The sign read, “ANNUAL SPORTSMAN CLUB HAM SHOOT.”

Ham Shoot, what the hell is a Ham Shoot?

I can see it now……

First….what type of camo-gear do you wear to hunt ham?  Do I dress as some other barnyard animal?  Do I slather myself in honey or mustard and then roll in cloves?  I know, maybe I’ll grab a pineapple or two and secure them to my body.   A ham would never run from a pineapple.  Never.

I grab the Winchester.308 rifle from the secure gun closet, my custom made leather ammo belt with 100 rounds tucked safely into it  and head out to my pickup.

Damn, I forgot, I don’t have a pickup truck.  So I head out and get into my Toyota Prius.  Yes that battery powered wonder car capable of going from zero to sixty in about a week and a half.

I jump in and head off for the Ham Shoot.  As I head down the road I figure I might as well stop and get a coffee and some chew.  I mean, come on, it wouldn’t be a Ham Shoot without some chew.

I pull into the convenience store, run in and grab a black coffee and a tin of shredded beef jerky chew and head back to the Prius.

What?  You have a problem with beef jerky chew?  Sorry but I can’t stand that smokeless tobacco product.  The last time I put a wad of that in my mouth I was dizzy in about 15 minutes and then nauseous the rest of the day.  I figure walking around the woods hunting ham is not a good place to be dizzy.

I arrive at the Sportsman Club thinking this is going to be an interesting day.  Maybe I’ll be hanging out in someone’s tree stand waiting for an unsuspecting ham to wander by or maybe I’ll be tracking the some ham hocks through the denseNew England forest.

I go over to the recon board where this morning’s reports are highlighted.

Damn, there is ham everywhere!

According to the report:

• A large pack of Smithfield’s were spotted about a mile away in a field
• Elusive spiral ham tracks were seen by the river
• There are random sightings of the solitary and vicious or is it viscous canned ham all over the area
• Rare prosciutto were spotted sunning themselves near the mountain
• And last but not lease there is a herd of wild smoked maple hams near the summit of the mountain.

So with my rifle over one shoulder, my custom leather ammo belt around my waist, two fresh pineapples bungeed together and draped around my neck like a fruit lei and a pocketful of synaptic provocateurs, I head off into the woods to get me a ham.  No not Mia Hamm, get me a ham.

With apologies to Aerosmith, I have hijacked an old song of theirs for the title today. 

I wrote hijacked.  Should I be looking out the window for helicopters?

The Prius is the new Buick! 

Huh? 

It makes me so sad to say that because I was an original Pruis owner in 2001.  Some how the brand has been hijacked (HA, wrote it again) by a tribe of grey pony-tailed, acid flash-back having, baby seal bumper sticker loving nimrods who have the driving skills of, well, drunk howler monkeys.  How else do you explain the black Prius travelling at 55 miles per hour in the center lane of the highway during rush hour when the speed limit is 65 mph and the tolerated speed during rush hour is 75 mph – 80 mph? 

This type of navigational yeast infection historically has been limited to chronologically gifted adults who purchased their Buick Park Avenue sometime during the Reagan presidency.  You know the one.  After thirty some odd years it still has only 18,000 miles on it and has never be driven faster than 50 mph. 

It was so funny.  As I pass the Prius I look over and sure enough, the drunk howler monkey is sitting there, his hands at 10am and 2pm on the steering wheel, just like the driving instruction book says.  His posture is perfect otherwise I wouldn’t see his long grey pony-tail cascading down his back.  He sat there, motoring down the highway, obviously experiencing an acid-flashback because he was totally oblivious to the world around him which is pretty common with the self-centered, tofu snorting, drunk howler monkey way of life.

Come on, you never experienced the Prius around town that just stops on its own for no reason.  Well, maybe the howler monkey saw a pretty flower on the side of the road.  Or you never experienced the magic Prius that turns without using its turn signal.  It’s all okay because they are the only cars on the road.  I mean come on, it has to always be about drunk howler monkeys. 

My favorite is the drunk howler monkey who decides to pull over and open the Prius door in downtown traffic regardless of any cars coming up on them.  Remember, there are no other cars on the road, just drunk howler monkey operating Prius.

Saddle on up drunk howler monkeys.  I am going out and finding a 1982 Buick with a vinyl roof, old Lark cigarette butts in the ash tray and a working 8-track player.  Then it’s just you and me, drunk howler monkey.

Note:  No howler monkeys were injured or made to ingest alcohol during the creation of this post. 

That said, Bob my miniature, talking, semi-invisible elephant was cocked during the writing of this post and does a pretty good howler monkey impersonation. 

Also, any similarities between the action of humans driving Prius’ and howler monkeys is not intentional and in no way implies that howler monkeys would drive in a similar inane manner.   Howler monkeys in fact use a form of arboreal locomotion called brachiation.

Hey, it’s not like I took a vow like Seti did in the movie The Ten Commandments, when he vowed never to speak the name of Moses and then on his death-bed he uttered the name Moses.   Hey, did you know Chuck Heston played both Moses and was the voice of God in the movie.  That’s not right, he got to be Moses and God.   Kinda redundant if you ask me.

“Here are the Ten Commandments Moses.”

“Well, no shit God, I just thought of them and since I am who I am, and you are who I am then we are all together cuz I am the eggman,  they are the eggmen.
I am the walrus, goo goo g’joob.”

Mister City Policeman sitting
Pretty little policemen in a row.
See how they fly like Lucy in the Sky, see how they run.
I’m crying, I’m crying.
I’m crying, I’m crying.

Yellow matter custard, dripping from a dead dog’s eye.
Crabalocker fishwife, pornographic priestess,
Boy, you been a naughty girl you let your knickers down.
I am the eggman, they are the eggmen.
I am the walrus, goo goo g’joob.

Sitting in an English garden waiting for the sun.
If the sun don’t come, you get a tan
From standing in the English rain.
I am the eggman, they are the eggmen.
I am the walrus, goo goo g’joob g’goo goo g’joob.

Expert textpert choking smokers,
Don’t you thing the joker laughs at you?
See how they smile like pigs in a sty,
See how they snied.
I’m crying.

Semolina pilchard, climbing up the Eiffel Tower.
Elementary penguin singing Hari Krishna.
Man, you should have seen them kicking Edgar Allan Poe.
I am the eggman, they are the eggmen.
I am the walrus, goo goo g’joob g’goo goo g’joob.
Goo goo g’joob g’goo goo g’joob g’goo… (etc.)

Whoa, now that was a tangent of all tangents.  Yikes.

Where was I?  Oh ya,  I kinda like this whole Wikileak thing.  Sort of like an online Robin Hood.

Damn, that traffic jam, damn I hate to be late….

Not today – right on time.

Righteously pozitoodinal.  wicked righteously pozitoodinal.

So my peeps, wassup?

My lighthouse is brighter than it’s been for a long time.  Wicked bright as they say in Massatwoshitts.

Speaking with an old friend I had the opportunity to jump-start my lighthouse and it felt really good.  Sort of like spring cleaning except we’re about two weeks from the start of winter.  It’s freaking 15 degrees outside.  Brrrrrr.  At least according to my smart phone it’s 15 degrees.  How smart is a smart phone?  Is yours smarter than mine?  I bet if we leave both our smart phones on and place them outside over nite they will both get really dumb by morning.

Smartphone – HA, I don’t feel no smarter cuz I got me a smart phone.  Funny, my guess is that if you drink enough by about midnight the phone goes from being a smart phone to being a really stupid, “why did I get this fucking thing, dumb phone.”

So let me get this right:

Charlton Heston was Moses, God, the Eggman and the Walrus?  Is it wrong I capitalized God, Eggman and Walrus?  Wouldn’t it be funny if when that time comes Charlton Heston is standing there checking tickets to get into Heaven?  I can see him standing there checking tickets with the AK-47 slung over his shoulder…..

I am thinking I should go get an NRA membership soon.

Mental note – stop drinking the red Kool-aid.

Yellow matter custard, dripping from a dead dog’s eye.
Crabalocker fishwife, pornographic priestess,
Boy, you been a naughty girl you let your knickers down.
I am the eggman, they are the eggmen.
I am the walrus, goo goo g’joob.

I am thinking that there may have been some state of mind altering synaptic provocateurs involved in the creation of the above lyrics…..

cheers

Like an archeologist digging through layers of the earth to document epoch after epoch I stare into the depths of my refrigerator looking at jar after jar after container after container of  condiments.

The progress towards the back wall of the refrigerator uncovers new and unique treasures.  Some well into the early stages of fossilization, others,  have long transformed from that magic elixir of flavor enhancing love into a gelatinous mass of  greens and blacks.  They have one thing in common – they are all stuck to the shelf like they’ve been glued there.  What the hell?

Ah, the joys of being an habitual “gotta have” that magic elixir, collector.

How does a jar of jalapeno jelly manage to spill itself in the frig when the top is secure and the jar upright?

Is there some band of mischievous little Pixie’s that come out at night with the sole purpose of spilling condiments in the refrigerator?

I can see them now.  Tiny little elf like bastards with tiny little wool hats and puffy little coats stuffed with mouse fur.  Each of them carrying a small flask filled with whiskey.  Laughing as they go about their adventure.

I see them massing at the door of the refrigerator with their cold weather gear piled around them.  The little leader acting like he’s the  Sir Ernest  Shackleton of this refrigerator exploration.

Damn them to hell as they pry open the door and take out their little ropes to climb up to the shelves.

Them with their little grappling hooks on the end of the ropes that they swing in tight circles, building up momentum until at the right moment they release the rope and watch as the grappling hook accurately slips over the edge of the first shelf, gently nudging a half empty jar of mayo.  With excitement they begin the trek up the rope with their intent clear, to wreak condiment havoc.  Bastards!

I know it’s them.

All the jars and containers seem glued to the shelf.   Glued with something stronger than Super Glue.  It looks like a mix of maple syrup, mustard and Stonewall Kitchen’s Vidalia and fig marinade.

The Pixie little buggers with their match stick brooms, mopping the refrigerator shelf with the condiment glue.  Laughing as only little Pixie’s with mouse fur stuffed puffy coats and wool hats can laugh.  Damn them.

What’s this,  an unopened jar of maraschino cherries , righteous.  That makes the whole exercise worth it, now if I can only find my bourbon.  Manhattans are in order.

Where the hell is my bourbon?  Maybe that wasn’t whiskey in the Pixie’s flasks –  it was my bourbon.

That’s it, this means war.

To be continued

Today is another one of those – get my head outta my ass days.  I seem to be having a year of these head outta my ass days.

I am empowered with a list that is long and damn it, I am going to get it all done.

I so frustrate myself.  I paralyze myself with self-doubt and self-loathing that I end up shutting out everything good in my life.  Whether that be family, friends, experiences or simply life.

So last night before I went to bed I plugged in my double-secret pozitoodinal recharging system and my energy level is outrageously high today (never mind the 36 oz of coffee).  Dangerously high I’d dare say.

Had a wonderful day with the family yesterday.  In true McIntyre fashion we went to visit Milt (dad) at his current resting spot.  See the below photo…..don’t ask.  All I know is that I am sure Milt would approve.

nuff said

From left to right the asses are (Michael, Betty, Des, Judy and Ed)  I was behind the camera.

So on this beautiful Monday morning I have but one goal for the week and that is to make a positive difference.  Make a positive difference in my life, in some one else’s life, to the planet, to society….I don’t care.  All I know is that this week, I will make a positive difference.

My challenge to you is to do the same.  It’s a simple goal and a goal that we all should be able to achieve.  Shit, if I can do it so can you.

Get out there and rock the positive difference.

Pozitoodinal righteousness will reign supreme!

Mel Gibson –  Does Seder

Artie Lange’s – Knife skills 101

Tiger Woods – Pampered Chef Party for the Girls

BP America’s – Cooking with Oil

John Edwards – How to Throw a Baby Shower

Jay Leno and Conan O’Brien – Late night Snacks, no make that 10pm snacks, no, hold on, make that late night snacks

Bernie Madoff’ – New York City on $5 million a day

Sarah Palin – The Fine Art of Boiling Water aka Sarah’s Tea Party for 10,000.  they would actually make tea for 10,000 yet only 11 people really would show up.

Pat Robertson’s – Caribbean Pool Party

Ben Rothlisberger –  Jerk Cooking

Watch out world, the endorphins are running wild today.  Who the hell knows what I’ll do next.

Yee Fucking Ha!

According to an email I received it only takes 23 minutes to reverse the aging process.  If I can keep doing the knob in 23 minutes I too can reverse the aging process and it didn’t cost me nothing but 23 minutes of my day.

So as you ponder your day, think about if you can fit 23 minutes of pure pozitoodinal righteousness into your day.  Screw that - FIT 23 minutes of pozitoodinal righteousness into your day.

Maybe it’s 23 minutes of sitting quietly.  Maybe it’s 23 minutes of reading a book for pleasure.  Shit, maybe it’s sitting for 23 minutes in your car and not swearing at anybody.

Take 23 minutes for yourself today.  It’s a great way to start!

Ciao Mein!

Can you hula-hoop?  I never could.  That said, I am going to get myself some 3/4″, 160psi PVC tubing and make my own hoop.  Damn it, I am going to learn how to hula-hoop!

Now this should be pretty funny.  Stay tuned for an update.

Speaking of updates, what the hell is going on in France, oops I mean Arizona.  What’s next, proof of being a Christian or worse yet, proof you can hula-hoop?  Will be interesting to see how this plays out on a national stage given the growing hispanic voting population and the need for the republicans to court some of this voting populous.

Don’t know from where that semi-cogent thought process arose.

Where is Madge?

Madge rocks!

Sorry, I left for a little while.  Had to shower and shave – both my teeth and my head.

Gravity is evil.  It prevents me from hula-hooping.  I think I need to increase the friction associated with the hoop so that it equals the force of the gravity.  If I do that then the hoop should remain suspended around my growing midsection….I think….

Well, it’s time to get my ass in gear and find a job.  It’s hard not to let the constant rejection get one down.  It’s cool, I figure the key is putting myself in the position so that when the “right” job becomes available I am first in line for said job.

I was out to dinner with friends in Cambridge this past weekend and someone new to the group asked me what I did?  I replied, “about what?”

She didn’t laugh.  I think she didn’t get it because she kept looking at me and said, “about work.”  To which I said, “what about work?”

She said, starting to get a bit exasperated with me, “what do you do for work.”

Finally enjoying the conversation I simply said, “I do nothing about work.”

She rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to the chicken on her plate.  Meanwhile, I smiled and looked at the server and ordered a Knob Creek Manhattan.

By the way – if you find yourself in Cambridge try the Hungry Mother restaurant http://www.hungrymothercambridge.com/.  I give it two thumbs up.  I had the fried chicken as an appetizer and it was the best.  A beautiful, delicate skin – seasoned to perfection – that contained wonderfully, moist chicken.  Hush puppy’s, smoked tongue, grits with Tasso and cheddar were just some of the delightful offerings that highlighted this Kendall Square gastronomic adventure.

Have a pozitoodinally righteous day folks.

I am going out in search of the buried pozitoodinal treasure I hid in the back yard years ago.   Was it the backyard or the front?  Damn, I am going to need a bigger shovel.

We need to leverage that pozitoodinal energy to foster intelligent, cooperative discussions among all leaders.  It’s okay to disagree, however, we need to respect each other.

What we don’t need is the rhetoric spewing, like tequila tinged vomit, from the mouth of people like Sara Palin.  “Don’t retreat, reload?” Come on, Ms. Palin demonstrate some level of intelligence and leadership responsibility.  It’s okay to build a constituency for your platform on intelligent, clearly articulated opposition to the politics of today – it’s not okay to build it on hate and violence.

I am scared.  For the first time I have a feeling that we’re on a precipice of something that may not be good – at least in my opinion.  We all grew up with this romantic idealism about revolutions.  Shit, that’s how we became this great nation of ours. 

Well what happens when you’re on the wrong side of the revolution?

Given the level of hate, anger and negativity in the nation and world today I think that something really bad is going to happen in the next 6 months.  Whether it is a terrorist act – more likely domestic than international or something else. 

The explosive mixture building as an undercurrent in society today is seen in the level of tolerance for violence and hate that seems to be inconsistent with reality and demonstrated at extremes from children bullying other children to personal domestic terrorist acts by people who are just fed up.  To that add a dangerous erosion of faith exacerbated by the issues with the Catholic church as well as a political climate that has polarized and engaged people who have never been “moved” by said politics.

The funny thing is that here I sit typing on my old Presario V4000 laptop,  unemployed and with a life that the demons in my head characterize as one long under achievement yet I work hard to remain outwardly positive.  Shit folks, if I can do it so can you.  We need to all start doing it today.  We also need to hold everyone – from our leaders to our peers – accountable to demonstrate that same pozitoodinal energy. 

Where is the love folks.  The revolution needs to start today.  The revolution of pozitoodinal outreach.  The revolution of opening doors to communication.  The revolution of intelligent debate.  The revolution of love.

As the Beatles once wrote……

You say you want a revolution
Well you know
We’d all want to change the world
You tell me that it’s evolution
Well you know
We’d all want to change the world
But when you talk about destruction
Don’t you know that you can count me out
Don’t you know it’s gonna be alright

You say you got a real solution
Well you know
We’d all want to see the plan
You ask me for a contribution
Well you know
We’re all doing what we can
But if you want money for people with minds that hate
All I can tell you is brother you’ll have to wait
Don’t you know it’s gonna be alright

You say you’ll change the constitution
Well you know
We’d all love to change your head
You tell me it’s the institution
Well you know
You better free your mind instead
But if you go carrying pictures of Chairman Mao
You ain’t going to make it with anyone anyhow
Don’t you know it’s gonna be alright
Alright