I ate four species of animals in a slaughterhouse of flavor last night.

These Brazilian Steakhouses know how to make a man happy.

It was date night. So I took the lovely wife and we destroyed that place. We ate so much meat we were worried they were going to ask us to leave. (My wife is a wonderful carnivore like me.)

meathouse

The wife had a $9 glass of wine, that came from a $14 bottle. Stuff like that always proves just how fancy a place is, when even the cheap stuff ain’t cheap!

But if you really, and I mean really, like meat. You’ve got to go. They walk over to your table with giant slabs of 20 different sorts of meats on giant skewers and cut off chunks of tasty animal flesh that has been marinated and cooked into perfection.

They also have a ginormous salad bar, but why waste stomach space on such inferior food?

But look at this. This is the stuff dreams are made of.

brazilliansteakhouse

And we chose the perfect day to go. Because it was the final day of VEGAN FEST 2018!  It was right across the street from us. I was half expecting protestors to throw fake buckets of blood at me and call me a murderer once I walked out. But I guess PETA wasn’t there, because everyone seemed really nice.

This is from their website:

Join us for a celebration of compassionate living in one of the top vegan-friendly cities in the country: Asheville, NC! It’s the fourth annual Asheville VeganFest: June 8, 9, and 10, 2018. On Friday and Saturday, listen to speakers from around the country as they tackle the latest vegan issues in our new venue, The Orange Peel. On Sunday, enjoy an outdoor festival with over 75 vendors showcasing vegan food, beer, lifestyle products and more!

(Sorry guys, there wasn’t any compassion inside the steak house. It was like a massacre of meat.)

Asheville VeganFest is hosted by the largest no-kill animal rescue organization in North Carolina, Brother Wolf Animal Rescue. As we continue to expand our circle of compassion, we’re spreading the love with our community and introducing folks to the joy of delicious, healthy, plant-based foods. Join us for what is quickly growing to be the largest vegan festival in the Southeast

Well, a lot of animals died for me to eat yesterday. Like, a lot.

I ate four different species, not counting the smoked salmon that I got before I realized ‘smoked’ doesn’t really mean ‘cooked’. Ick.

But those poor vegans really don’t know what they are missing out on.

I bet every time the wind changed direction and blew the wondrous scents of beef sirloin, flank steak, ribs, fillet mignon, beef tenderloin, pork sausage, lamb chops and leg o’ lamb, and roasted cinnamon pineapple towards them – a handful converted to meat eaters on the spot and zombie walked to the nearest fast food restaurant for some greasy burgers.

Interestingly enough, apparently vegans don’t like paying for parking. The streets were packed, there were zero parking spots, anywhere. Until we went into the parking deck that was 500 feet from the festival. After the first deck, it was pretty much empty the rest of the way up.

Over all, a good tasty adventure I highly recommend.

And just to throw some politics into this mix.

Last night was the Tony Awards, which celebrates theater or something. I dunno. I don’t much care. Watching a bunch of self righteous creepoids patting themselves on the back in $5,000 gowns and tuxedos and lecture us ‘commoners’ on how we are a bunch of unenlightened troglodytes for having opposing political views is at the very bottom of ‘Things I Don’t Give a Whoop About’.

But, apparently, Robert DeNiro accepted some award then received a standing ovation for yelling ‘F Trump’ as his acceptance speech.

Ooo. So BRAVE and POWERFUL.

yawn

Let’s look at some really basic logic.

Trumps booming economy with a record low unemployment rate vs DeNiro’s continuously unhinged insults?

Yep. Have fun storming the castle.

Slayin’ Nazi’s is as American as eating apple pies.

WAR & CONFLICT BOOKERA: WORLD WAR II/WAR IN THE WEST/FRANCE
Landing on the coast of France under heavy Nazi machine gun fire are these American soldiers, shown just as they left the ramp of a Coast Guard landing boat, June 6, 1944. CPhoM. Robert F. Sargent. (Coast Guard) NARA FILE #: 026-G-2343 WAR & CONFLICT BOOK #: 1041

“You are about to embark upon the Great Crusade, toward which we have striven these many months. The eyes of the world are upon you. The  hopes and prayers of liberty loving people everywhere march with you.

In company with our brave Allies and brothers-in-arms on other Fronts, you will bring about the destruction of the German war machine, the elimination of Nazi tyranny over the oppressed peoples of Europe, and security for ourselves in a free world.

Your task will not be an easy one. Your enemy is well trained, well equipped and battle hardened. He will fight savagely.

But this is the year 1944! Much has happened since the Nazi triumphs of 1940-41. The United Nations have inflicted upon the Germans great defeats, in open battle, man-to man. Our air offensive has seriously reduced their strength in the air and their capacity to wage war on the ground. Our Home Fronts have given us an overwhelming superiority in weapons and munitions of war, and placed at our disposal great reserves of trained fighting men.

The tide has turned! The free men of the world are marching together to Victory!

I have full confidence in your courage and devotion to duty and skill in battle. We will accept nothing less than full Victory!

Good luck! And let us beseech the blessing of Almighty God upon this great and noble undertaking.”
― Dwight D. Eisenhower

Today is the 74th Anniversary of D-Day.

The day when 160,000 allied troops converged on a 50-mile stretch of heavily fortified open beach. By the end of the day, almost 10,000 Allied soldiers were killed or wounded and we owned a chunk of France.

The oceans ran red with the blood of their sacrifice that day.

We owe them great thanks.

Now go watch Saving Private Ryan or Band of Brothers to get the heebie-jeebies at seeing what they went through. Because they broke the mold after the Greatest Generation.

Personally, if I could pick an era to spend my prime years in, it’d be the 1940’s.

Cool clothes, cool hair, fantastic weaponry, Kate Beckinsale, and slayin’ Nazi’s. (That was a reference to the movie Pearl Harbor by the way)

Doesn’t get more American than that.

And speaking of weaponry.

43M1Garand

My 1943 M1 Garand. (Ooo! Aaaahh!)

If you aint’ got one, go to TheCMP.org and buy a Garand. For reals.

First off, it’s not considered an evil ‘assault rifle’ because it uses a 8 round enbloc clip and not one of those horrid 30 round magazines. So it’s legal pretty much everywhere.

Second, of the 5 million Nazi’s killed during WWII, I’d say the M1 Garand waxed a good 20 percent. I pulled that number of thin air, but my point is this – it’s lethal. 30-06 is a superb round.

Third, they are CHEAP at CMP. For $650 bucks you can have a ‘Field Grade’ Garand capable of killing every land critter in the world. Buy one anywhere else and you will pay $1000 or more. And they won’t last forever. Once they are gone, the price will sky rocket.

Fourth, the history. Personally, I hope mine protected it’s carrier by slaying everything that moved before him in a Fascist’s uniform. And hopefully, it wasn’t some unlucky one that went through multiple dead GI’s before ending up in my hands. -shudder-.

But it’s kind of like these reincarnation folks.

They are always some reincarnated King, or Prince, or Princess.

They’re never some gutter rat who was ran over with a wagon after stealing a rotten apple in the streets of England back in the early 1800s.

You kind of just hope for the good possibility.

All that aside.

Today was a good day.

Men with giant brass balls clanged their way ashore, kicked evil in the teeth, and pushed them back until their hell-bound overlord shot himself in the face with a Walther PPK.

God bless them for their courage, sacrifice, and valor.

 

No one likes Party Poopers on Memorial Day.

I posted this on Facebook Sunday and felt it was relevant enough to move here and go more in depth.

***

Personally, if I got waxed by some poop head… I’d want everyone I know to grill out, drink some beers, eat burgers, shoot some guns, and enjoy a three day Memorial weekend however they want.

Because that’s freedom. Freedom from the very people that our vets died defending it from. You know what freedom is?

It’s cooking a fat burger over charcoal instead of being forced to attend public book burning or mass indoctrination rallies.

It’s about drinking a cold beer with the boys instead of wondering if your door will be kicked in during the middle of the night and your family taken to some gulag where you’ll be worked to death or executed because you have a college degree.

It’s about throwing water balloons at your kids instead of worrying if your daughter will be stoned to death as a ‘honor killing’ if she is sexually assaulted.

It’s about wearing American colored sun glasses on a boat instead of worrying about gas shortages, eating rats, or prostituting yourself to survive. (Looking at you Venezuela)

It’s about lounging in lawn chairs instead of worrying if you’ve got enough food in your underground bunker in case the Russkies or North Koreans nuke us.

It’s about being able to freely and openly bicker with your family about your differing political views without worry of being labeled a dissident and snatched off with a bag over your head to be dropped into a mass grave.

THAT’S what our vets defend us and others against!

And if we Americans can’t enjoy our way of life, then what was the point of their sacrifice?

You want to place flags on all the vets graves? Right on!

You want to pour a forty on your battle buddies grave? Sounds good!

You want to see a flag at half mast and throw up a quick prayer to our Lord and Savior, to thank Him for gracing our existence with such men who would selflessly die for others? Awesome!

You want to drive four hours and play in a swimming pool with your family? DO IT.

You want to grill some tasty meat? DO IT.

This is America.

Every day is the Fourth of July. Every day is Veterans Day. Every day is Memorial Day.

EVERY DAY IS THE ‘REST OF THE WORLD SUCKS AND WE DON’T’ DAY!

And I’m not about to bash someone for having a good time on Memorial Day by assuming they don’t care about our honored dead.

Is that… is that…? YES! YES IT IS! BOOK ART!

By the talented Mike Katoglou.

Not to give much away, but yes… There is a running train fight scene that involves a Gatling Gun, Triceratops, and Giant Apes trying to kill everyone. Cause if you’re gonna go for awesome, then go awesome.

Woop!

Cowboys V Apes final

(I’ve got to frame this bad boy. And if I get a choice, he’s doing the book cover.)

 

 

 

 

Chunky Monkey – An example of womanly RAGE.

I think I’ve spent the past three or four days on one stupid scene that’s really not even that important. Because it involves a bunch of dialogue about convincing the Governor to send soldiers to help defend a town.

And it’s just boorrrinnngggg…..

But action scenes, that’s where it’s at.

***

Here are two examples. The first is just dialogue. Bleh. The second is dialogue… with ACTION!

Dialogue:

“Hey Jan,” Michael said with a smile as he tossed his laptop bag on the coffee table.

“Hey yourself, how was work?” She asked as she closed the refrigerator door and opened the freezer.

“It was work. I got a 1% raise today.”

“Oh that’s nice honey.” He could tell she wasn’t really paying attention as she moved the frozen tater tots and chicken nuggets aside. “Hey, where is the Chunky Monkey ice cream?”

“Sorry, I couldn’t sleep last night and I finished it off.” He reached around her with a pen and wrote ice cream in bad cursive on the grocery list notepad that was stuck on the front of the refrigerator door.

“But, it’s my favorite!” She pouted.

 

Action:

[“All Aboard the Murder Train” from How I Met Your Mother blares in the background]

Michael kicked the door open and dove inside, avoiding the fatal front as his arch nemesis blew a chunk out of the door frame. He heard her pump the shotgun as she ducked back behind the wall and into the other room.

“Look, I’m sorry!” He screamed as he simultaneously tried to press himself flat against the wall and peek around the corner at the same time. It wasn’t really working well. He couldn’t see anything but a pile of dirty laundry still in it’s basket.

“It was mine! And you took it from me!” She yelled in return.

He dunked instinctively as a basketball size hole suddenly appeared above his head, showering him with sheet rock dust and bits of insulation as she guessed where he was.

Spinning onto his back, he used his steel toed Wolverine size 15 boots to push himself backwards. As he slid away on the cold linoleum, he drew the massive Ruger Super Redhawk revolver from it’s holster across his chest and thumbed back the hammer. Grimacing at the recoil he was about to feel,  he sighted between his raised knees, and pulled the trigger.

The boom was deafening as the 400 grain .454 Casull DoubleTap bullet slammed through the Sheetrock wall, snapping the 2×4 stud in half, and leaving a fist sized hole as it blasted through the house leaving a trail of destruction and onward to never-never land. Or the neighbors house, whichever. Jim still hadn’t returned the rake he borrowed anyways.

His ears rang as he cocked the pistol again and tried to peer through the gun holes in the wall. He coughed as the dust from the destruction found its way into his lungs.

“Honey? Are you okay?”

BOOM! Cha-Chunk! BOOM!

The first slug hit the floor beside him and punched through and into his man cave downstairs as he scrambled to get behind the kitchen island. A shotgun pump later and the second shot was higher this time, blowing pictures and magnets off the refrigerator door as she wrongly assumed he had taken cover there.

“It was just ice cream! There was barely any left!”

He pushed himself to his knees and rested the butt of the pistol on top of a cutting board covered with half sliced carrots and a tomato while carefully lining up the iron sights. The round door knobs on the cabinet doors dug into his chest as he braced himself.

“You try working customer service and see how HANGRY YOU GET FOR CHUNKY MONKEY!” She screeched in a murderous rage.

Looks like take out tonight. He pulled the trigger back, watching the cylinder rotate until a fresh cartridge was under the firing pin. Slowly he began incrementally adding pressure as he focused on the front sight, until suddenly the trigger broke clean and the hammer dropped.

KA-BOOM!

The muzzle blast flung the plastic salad bowl across the room and bits of romaine lettuce and spinach rained down from the heavens around him.

“I’ll buy you more!”

“I don’t WANT MORE! I want want you ATE! I’m going to rip it out of your intestines with my BARE HANDS!”

He shuddered and carefully sized up the window above the sink, trying to gauge if he could fit through it. Because sleeping on the couch tonight suddenly didn’t feel very safe.

***

See? Action = Cool.

Dialogue = Only cool in action.

Otherwise it’s lame-o.

 

(EDIT – Dick Casull, who invented the .454 Casull round died two weeks ago. So I figured I would use that round just for kicks and giggles.)