Hiatus

Be Back Soon

On Holiday:

(Damn, the strippers slit my break-line.)

I trust everyone had as relaxing and refreshing holiday as I did. I am on the road so not a lot of time to bring everyone up to speed, so for your edification a weekend list:

Friday, I went home and read for a bit and turned in early ie: 6:30, I didn’t wake till 7am.

7 days ago it was 50, this weekend it was 90… damn Indiana.

I taught a class on Saturday, 70% no-show rate, wow, who would have guessed.

I worked in the extensive gardens of the wonderland like estate in which I reside.

I didn’t watch the Indy 500, chiefly because I don’t care.

I got very drunk with Tattoo John and two fellow tenured professors (think the James Gang on rot gut rye whisky, bennies & Hemingway), luckily my flower could drive us around.

I got punched in the face by Tattoo John, which I found quite humorous (he hits like a girl).

I went to Mass, very hung-over… so of course I was asked to fill-in for the reading.

I marched in two veterans parades.

I went to a friend’s home Sunday afternoon and made explosives out of normal household products (by request), which we then tried to blow out a tree stump with, my ears are still ringing, unlike the others who didn’t understand the concept of screaming “fire in the hole”, (on a side note, Mrs. JQP is right her home-made salve is good for flash burns). The tree stump still remains, and yes, I still suck at forming shaped charges. However, I did have a few Rolling Rocks and some laughs. Who says hanging out with Bosnians on student visas can’t be fun.

Sunday night, I cooked two 30oz steaks I had been saving, along with asparagus, however, I started with shrimp cocktails and Bloody Mary’s, which dear reader cures anything.

Monday, my loving bride invited the neighbor’s dog over for a play date with our hounds, after I expressly forbade it. The dog of course dug up all of my heirloom tomatoes and exotic collection of hot peppers, I did not speak to her until…

...I fell off the roof, at which point I needed a ride to the local hospital, thankGod my high speed paratrooper training saved my life, however I now am the proud owner of three broken ribs and 24 stitches.

I am like Norm at Cheers in ER.

I met my deductible, so now I can tap into my medical savings account.

Even wounded, I made cracklen corn bread, smoked pork chops and greens for supper Monday night.

Later, I made up with my loving wife, mostly because I was afraid of her.

I watched American History X, for the first time in years, plus parts of the Law and Order Criminal Intent marathon, I identify with Goren.

J. Thom the Jazz Man, called three times, to finalize his plans to meet in Indy the 15th for a group birthday celebration, even though it’s my turn to head to Memphis.

Your Recipe for the Week:

Sardine Tart Recipe
(This is a summer time treat the whole family can enjoy!)

Ingredients:
175 g (6 oz) shortcrust pastry
110 g (4 1/2 oz) can sardines in oil
1 small onion, skinned and finely sliced
juice of 1 lemon
65 g (2 1/2 oz) natural yogurt, one tbl spoon of green curry added.
65 ml (2 1/2 fl oz) fresh single cream
2 oz (50 g) cottage cheese
2 eggs, beaten
Sea salt and freshly ground pepper
Fresh parsley to garnish

How:
1. Roll out the pastry and use to line an 18 cm (7 inch) flan ring.
2. Drain the oil from the sardines into a small pan and use to fry the onion until soft. Remove from the pan and place on the base of the flan case. Sprinkle with half the lemon juice.
3. Beat together the yogurt, fresh cream, cottage cheese, eggs and seasoning. Pour over the onions. Arrange the sardines on top like the spokes of a wheel. Sprinkle with the remaining lemon juice and freshly ground pepper.
4. Bake in the oven at 220°C (425°F) mark 7 for 15 minutes then reduce the temperature to 180°C (350°F) mark 4 for a further 25 minutes. Serve hot or cold garnished with parsley.

Servings: serves 4-6


I remain a trend-setter in the world of fashion:

JQP esq.

In the Zone:

(It’s make your own caption day! Good luck, we are all counting on you.)

Status:
No, I did not go to No-Love-Thursday last night, even after 23 phone calls and 9 e-mails.
I am teaching all morning.
I am teaching all morning tomorrow.
After that I am working on the house the rest of the weekend.
I am still running on less than 4 hours of sleep (long story).
I live in a shell with no excitement and no surprises.
Have a good holiday weekend.
...and FYI Indy, Tim and Butchie will let you park in their yards for the 500, for only 50 bucks a car, first come first served.

As always, all my best:

JQP CPA

It’s No-Love-Thursday:

Thought for the Day:
Blaze with the fire that is never extinguished.
Luisa Sigea


(Are we not all a little bit like Mr. Christopher Walken? I for one I have a watch shoved up my ass, just to keep the gooks from getting it.)

The Day so Far:
I am running on 3 hours of sleep so ok, so I am sitting here reading my work e-mails (in my black silk pajamas, and red velvet slippers, while my paisley smoking jacket drapes across my shoulders),

So I get this e-mail that is asking a really fucking stupid question, I being who I am reply to the person (who I might add has a name the same as one of the people who work for me) with “Hey, you fucking dumb ass, didn’t I teach you any better than that, never ever fucking talk to a worm/prick/cocksucker, of a defense attorney, they are paid to lie…”

Then about 10 minutes later I get the e-mail back, it seems the person asking the question A) was not my staff person and B) was asking it on a state wide government news group. Which just so happens to be where my answer was thoughtfully posted at this early hour. I am not even showered yet, and I fucked up at work. Off to a wonderful start.

In the News:
Don’t you love calls from friends at 3:15 am that start with “Man, JQP come get me. Your not going to believe this shit”. The penthouse apartment of M. Chamberlain "Man about Town", was raided by police.

Yes, no shit, M. Chamberlain was woken from his slumber by a flash bang grenade, and 17 officers of our local SWAT team, as they barreled into his stylish apartment in the city’s fashionable Upper Westside.

After being both tasered and sprayed with pepper spray, M. Chamberlain was not able to convince the "Princes of the City" that he was not in fact Alberto Gonzalez who just so happens to be his next door neighbor.

Only after ransacking his tasteful yet masculinity decorated apartment did they decide that he was not in fact Mr. Gonzalez purveyor of kiddy porn and cocaine. Soon they released him from a illegal detainment method (standing on one’s throat, "Get Some! Gitmo Style!") and issued several apologies and a free visit to our local ER (at tax payers’ expense) soon after he was then (only after receiving two morphine suppositories, to calm his nerves) free to go. I picked him up at the hospital, and am on retainer as his legal representative.

Man, I think that would have made a great episode of Cops.

Your Hairy Pitted Woman of the Week:

(Pits and Tits, yes its the same girl from last week, just a more candid shot)

Today’s Bill:
"Love looks not with the eyes but with the mind."
From A Midsummer Night's Dream (I, i, 234)

Quote of the Day:
I have been thinking that I would make a proposition to my Republican friends... that if they will stop telling lies about the Democrats, we will stop telling the truth about them.
Adlai E. Stevens

As always, I am the man you always wanted to be, you pussy:

JQP DVM

Soylent Green and other tips for Entertaining:

Thought for the Day:
I happen to feel that the degree of a person's intelligence is directly reflected by the number of conflicting attitudes she can bring to bear on the same topic.
Lisa Alther, Kinflicks, 1975


(Combative Mexican Bull Fighting Midgets high on Crystal Meth haunt my very soul.)

The Day Ahead:
Today I meet with my boss, for our weekly “don’t bullshit me, what really happened” meeting, followed by a meeting of a community board I sit on, after that some teaching in the early afternoon, and rounding out the day, a meeting with a few officers of the courts.

Yes, another action packed day for yours truly, manning the ramparts of Western Civilization and defending the virtue of women everywhere.

Points of Discussion:
After an experimental dinner, which I found to be less than satisfying (never trust a recipe that involves meats, dried peppers and flat Pepsi) my bride insisted upon a walk, which I reluctantly agreed upon. She does some of her best thinking and instruction giving on these walks, which might or might not have added to my reticence. During the walk, I was instructed on my duties around the manor house over the up-coming weeks, you see my rich in-laws are coming up from the Sunshine State, for (now get this) two weeks. Yes, two weeks of extended family bliss.

At some point I will regale you the reader with how when last my father in-law and I visited, I threatened him with bodily harm. Using the classic line “if you don’t shut the fuck-up, I am going to kick your ass right here in your own Tiki Hut, & in front of your family, now you don’t want that do you?” Needless to say, I have a few reservations about our up coming encounter.

Add to that, that my petite and loving bride becomes someone I don’t know when she is around her father, a combination of a 9 year old girl and a psychotic person who the voices in her head are commanding and you the reader might get a little taste of my situation . …and to think I bitched about having to go up to the UP of Michigan to spend holidays with other members of her primitive shoeless, dog eating tribe.

It's really no wonder that I have trouble sleeping at night.

To answer a question posed by an avid reader; a Sample of Today’s Play List:
Flight of the Cosmic Hippo - Bela Fleck and the Flecktones
I Heard the Jukebox Playing - Kitty Wells
Back in Black – AC/DC
I Wanna Be a Cowboy Sweetheart - Dixie Chicks
Green Onions - Booker T and the MGs
Don Quichote - Magazine 60
Summertime - Booker T and the MGs
All the Way - Lee Morgan
Minuet (Boccherini)
Poor Boy Blues - Chet Atkins and Mark Knopfler
Wild Side of Life - Hank Thompson
I'm Blue Again - Patsy Cline
Dede Priscilla - Lea Lignanzi
Lawyers, Guns and Money – Warren Zevon
Caballo Viejo - Robert Torres
Beale Street Mama - Cab Calloway
Emabhaceni - Miriam Makeba

Today’s Bill:

SONNET 34
Why didst thou promise such a beauteous day,
And make me travel forth without my cloak,
To let base clouds o'ertake me in my way,
Hiding thy bravery in their rotten smoke?
'Tis not enough that through the cloud thou break,
To dry the rain on my storm-beaten face,
For no man well of such a salve can speak
That heals the wound and cures not the disgrace:
Nor can thy shame give physic to my grief;
Though thou repent, yet I have still the loss:
The offender's sorrow lends but weak relief
To him that bears the strong offence's cross.
Ah! but those tears are pearl which thy love sheds,
And they are rich and ransom all ill deeds.

Quote of the Day:
It is a profitable thing, if one is wise, to seem foolish.
Aeschylus

I remain, the model citizen of a Brave New Century:

JQP esq.

It’s a Nipsey Russell Tuesday:

(Everyone throw in your favorite Nipsey Quote.)

Career Development:
I am considering some contact work in southwest Africa or Iraq. Small arms and free beer, what more could a man of my nature want? Which of course leads me into song:

Roland the Headless Thompson Gunner
by Mr. Warren Zevon

Roand was a warrior from the Land of the Midnight Sun
With a Thompson gun for hire, fighting to be done
The deal was made in Denmark on a dark and stormy day
So he set out for Biafra to join the bloody fray

Through sixty-six and seven they fought the Congo war
Fingers on their triggers, knee-deep in gore
For days and nights they battled the Bantu to their knees
They killed to earn their living and to help out the Congolese

Roland the Thompson gunner...
Roland the Thompson gunner...

His comrades fought beside him - Van Owen and the rest
But of all the Thompson gunners Roland was the best
So the CIA decided they wanted Roland dead
That son-of-a-bitch Van Owen blew off Roland's head


Chorus: Harmony:

Roland the headless Thompson gunner
Roland the headless Thompson gunner
(Time, time, time
For another peaceful war
Norway's bravest son
But time stands still for Roland
'Til he evens up the score)

They can still see his headless body stalking through the night
In the muzzle flash of Roland's Thompson gun
In the muzzle flash of Roland's Thompson gun

Roland searched the continent for the man who'd done him in
He found him in Mombassa in a barroom drinking gin
Roland aimed his Thompson gun - he didn't say a word
But he blew Van Owen's body from there to Johannesburg

Roland the headless Thompson gunner...
Roland the headless Thompson gunner...
Roland the headless Thompson gunner...
The eternal Thompson gunner, still wandering through the night
Now it's ten years later but he still keeps up the fight
In Ireland, in Lebanon, in Palestine and Berkeley
Patty Hearst heard the burst of Roland's Thompson gun
And bought it.

And that is all I have to say about that:

JQP

Back into the Trenches:

Thought for the Day:
There is no silver bullet and frankly you probably don’t need one. It is far more important to be able to find the right kind of gun, be able to load the gun … and perhaps most importantly, be able to figure out where the werewolf is.
Matthew Oliphant, Useability Works, 03-22-2006


(As many of you know I am in fact a renaissance man, yes a man of many diverse interests and hobbies, one of which as been the fore front of my spare time these days, that being genetic engineering. I would like to make public my success of growing women in cocoons, soon I will be able to raise an army of hot naked 7 foot tall Amazon warrior women, all loyal to only me. It sure is better than reading Chaucer)

I think:
My wife is slowly poisoning me. I have proof. She doesn’t drink iced tea; I however go though a gallon of sweet tea a day. She always insists on making it for me. For years she has made my iced tea, for years my razor sharp intellect and youthful good looks have decreased. The only sure fire way to defeat her insidious actions is by drinking large amounts of alcohol in an effort to dilute its effects.

I am convinced she is a former KGB agent code named Natasha. If you too had seen her doing belly shots of straight grain alcohol off the washboard abs of underage girls …all while saying dirty-nasty things in dialects not often heard outside of Chechnya or some neighborhoods in Queens, you as well would soon reach my conclusions.

A brief re-cap of the Social Event of the Season:
Due to the numerous local, state and federal laws that were violated during the course of the evening, I refuse to divulge any details, on the grounds that it may serve to incriminate myself and others close to me, however in the event that the statute of limitations expires, or I am able to retrieve certain incriminating photos that were taken of yours truly in a effort to insure my silence, I will give you the reader the sordid details, granted they will most likely start out with “Dear Penthouse…”.

I would be remiss…
If I didn’t say thank-you on behalf of my kind and loving bride, to all those who helped make her party the special-magical event it was. The caliber of individuals who were present served to make it truly a birthday party to be remembered, let us also give thanks that a event of this magnitude only occurs once a year.

Todays Bill:
"This was the noblest Roman of them all."
--From Julius Caesar (V, v, 68)

Quote of the Day:
Not merely an absence of noise, Real Silence begins when a reasonable being withdraws from the noise in order to find peace and order in his inner sanctuary.
Peter Minard

I remain, able to conger up at will, nightmares of tequila and sweaty women’s breasts:

JQP esq.

It's a No-Love-Thursday:

Thought for the Day:
It's not the voting that's democracy, it's the counting.
Tom Stoppard


(There is something about heavily armed chics in bikinis, you know small arms nice asses that and tattoos always a plus.)

NLT:
While tonight is the normal meeting of this most venerated of drinking clubs, my time tonight is limited. I will make an appearance after work, only in my role as Good Samaritan and fund raiser for the orphanage. I am attempting to save both my liver and my money for the “Mother of all Birthday” parties. Little know fact, I have told different groups of people that it’s a theme party and they need to dress-up, so far I have covered, white trash, S&M, brides maids, Vegas Show Girls, Arabs, clergy, and Republicans so it should be fun to see who comes in costume, I am after all nothing if not a man who enjoys stirring the pot. I of course will be dressed as is my custom just like my idol, Mr. Tom Jones.

Class Photo:

(I am the 14th in from the left, 3 row, the one with the devil may care smile on my face.)

Today’s Bill:

SONNET 17
Who will believe my verse in time to come,
If it were fill'd with your most high deserts?
Though yet, heaven knows, it is but as a tomb
Which hides your life and shows not half your parts.
If I could write the beauty of your eyes
And in fresh numbers number all your graces,
The age to come would say 'This poet lies:
Such heavenly touches ne'er touch'd earthly faces.'
So should my papers yellow'd with their age
Be scorn'd like old men of less truth than tongue,
And your true rights be term'd a poet's rage
And stretched metre of an antique song:
But were some child of yours alive that time,
You should live twice; in it and in my rhyme.

Your Hairy Pitted Beauty for the Week:

(Special thanks to Geo Larson, truly a giant among those who are counted as the illuminati of Blog. That and he sent me a shit load of hairy arm pitted women, one a week all summer long, yeah!)

Quote for the Day:
The joy of a spirit is the measure of its power.
Ninon de Lenclos

I remain, much like the poached egg of your resolve:

JQP esq.

Running around like my head was on fire and my ass was a catching:

(I had to let my last secretary go, she just couldn’t get the right gin to tonic ratio, good help is so hard to find these days.)

The Day Ahead:
I have long ass “team” meetings, followed by management development meetings, followed by a marketing meeting, after that my skinny ass is so fucking out of here, which today I will euphemistically call “Working from Home”. Play nice.

I remain, much like the unwanted zit captured forever in your prom pictures,

JQP esq.

Today is Mrs. JQP’s Birthday:

(A candid shot, of some of the many wonderful things I bought for her special day, not to mention, planning the social event of the season this Saturday in her honor. Btw: see likes pink, and yes she turns 18 this year, so now I can legally declare my love for her.)

JQP

Nazi Alert:

I just got turned on to this from Johnny B. Good’s blog, he cited another Hoosier Blog of note that of Mr. Robert Rouse.

http://leftofcentrist.blogspot.com/2006/05/woman-placed-in-psych-ward-as.html

I told you so…

JQP

America’s Pin-Up-Girl for the New World Order:

(For your viewing pleasure, Spec. Lindi England, now doing time in a military prison. So she is a perfect 10, ex-con, combat vet, and sadist, best of all she is from West by-God Virginia. Friends, she is truly a woman for a new American Century)


(Kinky sex, no problem, lick her combat boots and she might use a cattle prod on your rectum, no extra charge.)

JQP

I am teaching:

(I wanted to include a candid photo taken last night at the weekly meeting of NLT. That and I think I look hot in a loin cloth.)

Puppy dog kisses,

JQP

Your all Invited:

“Work is the curse of the drinking classes.”
Oscar Wilde

Your presence is requested at the
“Second Annual Large Scale Birthday Celebration”
In honor of:

Mrs. JQP

Den Mother, Patron of the Arts and of course
Diva Par Excellence.

This year’s party promises once again to be the most talked about social event of the season. You and your guest will find yourself in the company of Media Giants, Exotic Entertainers, Captains of Industry, Intellectuals, War Heroes, Public Safety Professionals, and Intrepid Explorers of the Land, Sea and Air, also Representatives of the Law Enforcement, Health and Human Services Fields, Poets Laureate, Convicted Felons, a few Bolsheviks and a Gypsy or two.

All as your captivating Hostess Mrs. JQP leads you on a night of quick witted repartee and celebration, while dinning on the finest Macedonian cuisine, distilled grains and fermented hops, available on Old Decatur Road. All this and more awaits you!

Hours of this celebration from Saturday May 20th 2006 Year of Our Lord starting at 4:00 pm until 3:00 am, or until the last person falls. 21 and over only, Gifts (large sums of US legal tender) and full frontal nudity while encouraged are optional. Attendees are responsible for their own bar and/or food tabs, Cash and Checks only. Not responsible for accident or injury.

XXXXXXX XXX
XXXX XXXX XXXX
Fort Wayne, Indiana 46819
Phone: XXX-XXXX

Directions: Heading south out of town on XX (the bad side of town), pick-up Old XXXXXXX Road behind XXXXX’s Grocery. Drive though two lights, (Pettit and Paulding Roads), you will pass a Buddhist Temple on the right, followed by another one on the left, then the Jewish Cemetery on the right, after that is XXXXXXXXX XXX (it looks like a place where Steel Workers and Bikers would drink), it sits on the left (East) side of the road. If you hit XXXXXXXX you have gone to far, turn around and try again. I you miss it a third time, you’re not to sharp, call, and someone will gladly assist you. There is no more multicultural drive to a bar in town.

Remember: If nothing else, the drive is a celebration of our multi-cultural community.

RSVP Regrets only, in person or call: XXX-XXXX

Gladly, I Tap Dance though the Mine Fields of your Repressed Thoughts:

Thought for the Day:
“…teenage ambitions, you’ll remember well”
John Cougar, “Jack n Diane”


(Stick your arms up if you love JQP, see even Pentecostal children love PTOAPM)

No-Love, et al...
It is once again time for the much awaited weekly celebration, where deviance meets dialog, intelligence meets inebriation and where the rubber meets the road. Time once again for meeting of the "No-Love-Thursday Drinking Club and Mutual Aid Society".

I know not who plans to be in attendance, I do know however, the lovely and captivating Mrs. JQP plans on handing out personal invitations to her up-coming birthday party, which many of you know is not a party to be missed.

I having been up since 2:30 am, am planning on attending, but at this stage in the game it is hard to tell for how long. I do know there rests within me some bile that must be vented. I welcome the verbal ju-jitsu, because I got me a black belt in smart ass dialog. I am so bad I can cut you with words you don’t even know.

Too much of a Good Thing:
Doing the good work can at times be draining, there is just so many socks I can knit for the soldiers, so many books I can read to the blind, so much blood I can give, so many orphans I can be a role model for. I am but a man; granted a successful and attractive man, with a great ass and pretty teeth, but still I am just a man).

I am thinking about getting a part time job at a buy-here-pay-here used car lot, just to even out my karma. Yeah, I need me some balance, ’cause baby, even when I am bad, I am oh so good.
Either that or my first choice of sticking-up liquor stores in the Tri-State area, just for shits and giggles. But then again has you the avid reader know, that’s how JQP rolls, Hard Core, Old School, Bad and Nationwide.

Your Hairy Pit-Pic for the Week:

(Many thanks to a long time reader, first time contributor, man of the ages, the esteemed and well groomed Mr. Geo. Larson at http://georgeglarson.blogspot.com/)

Today’s Bill:

SONNET 31
Thy bosom is endeared with all hearts,
Which I by lacking have supposed dead,
And there reigns love and all love's loving parts,
And all those friends which I thought buried.
How many a holy and obsequious tear
Hath dear religious love stol'n from mine eye
As interest of the dead, which now appear
But things removed that hidden in thee lie!
Thou art the grave where buried love doth live,
Hung with the trophies of my lovers gone,
Who all their parts of me to thee did give;
That due of many now is thine alone:
Their images I loved I view in thee,
And thou, all they, hast all the all of me.

Quote of the Day:
The word 'politics' is derived from the word 'poly', meaning 'many', and the word 'ticks', meaning 'blood sucking parasites'.
Larry Hardiman

I remain, the kind of person who goes through your medicine chest:

JQP esq.

A Day in the Life:

(Sometimes, we all like to gather at grandmas house for a amphetamine driven poetry reading put on by my cousin, who I might add smells of Old Spice and likes to tell everyone that she doesn’t wear any panties.)

JQP

Rachael Ray: Food Slut for my Loving

Sweet, Train Wreck of a Food Network host? I can hear that annoying laugh of hers ringing in my ears right now.


Some girls in band camp played with flutes. Miss Ray however developed a oral fixation and a taste for sweet dark chocolate.


She always struck me has that woman they talk about in the feminine hygiene commercials, you know the one with the wetness problem.


I make my own stuffing.


Bad, Bad, Bad, girl. It’s true they all just need to be spanked, again and again.

Bon Appetite,

JQP

I am with Nolff and Indy Girl today:

We are learning about Jesus at Vacation Bible Camp. Be back soon.

JQP

Incense, Midget brides and Mixed Drinks:

Thought for the Day:
So much of what we call management consists in making it difficult for people to work.
Peter Drucker


(Contrary to most Westerners view, shariah law is at times very enlightened)

The Weekend Review:
Friday, my kind and gentle wife and I attended a truly multicultural event, a Syrian Cinco de Mayo party, replete with dancing girls and chip dip. On of the more interesting parties I have been to in sometime. In attendance at the party were a few names that might be familiar to you the long time reader: Baba Ganoush Girl (our hostess), M. Chamberlain “Man about Town”, OB/GY Kenobi and his wife Land o’ Lakes girl, assorted children, people who have over stayed their student visas and the usual hangers-on.

The only crisis of the party was in the music taste, Mexican, Syrian, and 70’s disco. I found myself wishing for some Frank Zappa (he was after all of Lebanese decent) or some Deep Purple. But, then again, I am old school that way. I did break OB/GY Kenobi’s prized pipe, for which I am still regretful. At 10, I gathered my bride and made an exit, since we both had to labor in the morning.

Saturday, I taught all morning and then came in the office to tend to the labors at hand, leaving work around 2, to arrive home to my flower, who after her morning gig had mowed the lawn (with that damn power mower), and cooked a fest. After, our mid-day meal, we napped and read a bit. Later in the day we watched the Derby, no we didn’t go this year, and no we didn’t go to the party down Indy way, and no we didn’t even have any Mint Juleps, which was just as well, because my picks for the race sucked has is my norm.

One thing I would suggest, is that if you ever get a chance to go to the Derby, do, it really is kick ass, even if you don’t buy one of those 1000.00 Mint Juleps they were pushing on TV. Special thanks go to John (my new found bookie) who called and placed a bet for me, you’re a good man John. After my loss I decided to stay in for the night, she watched bad movies from the 80’s and I read a book by a Zambian writer. We turned in around 10pm.

Sunday, I woke at 4am, bathed and went and weeded my gardens, until it was time for the early Mass. I left my bride to her slumbers. I often enjoy Mass by myself, so it was no big deal, that and just me and some old people show up that early, so its usually a quick one.

After Mass, I went and did a little shopping, went to the book store (shocker, the Bros. Hyde are breaking up, they have been the best rare and used book store in the Midwest for years, I have not been this shocked since Van Halen booted Dave Lee Roth), and then to home, where my bride made a huge breakfast, pork chops, new potatoes, eggs over easy, rye toast and cream cheese. This was followed by a quick change of clothes and off we went to 3, yes count them three baptism parties, all little girls. Granted they really look pretty, but there is something creepy about little girls in mock wedding dresses. We spent by far the longest time at OB/GY Kenobi and his wife Land o’ Lakes girl’s daughters. That child raked in the Jesus themed gifts, and as always was as sweet as she could be.

After, such a wholesome day, we went to the Rugby Bar to even things out a bit, followed by a quick meal at the Macedonian Roadhouse, in order to finalize some plans for the up-coming event of the summer season to be held there on the 20th of this month.

We left and on the way home had one of the talks that married people only have after 3 to 6 drinks, not a fight, just one of “those-talks” which is often more scary than a fight. We were home in bed by 9pm, which was also when Cold Case was over (a new fav.) they ended the show with a song by Asia, which to this moment has remained stuck in my head.

All in all a quiet weekend, around the Public household.

Today:
Once again I descend into the Salt Mines of the human soul. My hope is to hide from any and/or all meetings and get some of the routine shit done that I have been lagging behind on.

Today’s Worthless Fact:
Estimated amount of glucose used by an adult human brain each day, expressed in M&Ms: 250 Harper's Index

Today’s Bill:

SONNET 33
Full many a glorious morning have I seen
Flatter the mountain-tops with sovereign eye,
Kissing with golden face the meadows green,
Gilding pale streams with heavenly alchemy;
Anon permit the basest clouds to ride
With ugly rack on his celestial face,
And from the forlorn world his visage hide,
Stealing unseen to west with this disgrace:
Even so my sun one early morn did shine
With all triumphant splendor on my brow;
But out, alack! he was but one hour mine;
The region cloud hath mask'd him from me now.
Yet him for this my love no whit disdaineth;
Suns of the world may stain when heaven's sun staineth

Quote of the Day:
The knowledge of the world is only to be acquired in the world, and not in the closet.
Phillip Earl Stanhope

I as always remain, much like a small metaphoric dog humping the leg of your self-esteem:

JQP esq.

Cinco de Mayo and Derby Weekend:

Thought for the Day:
Nobody realizes that some people expend tremendous energy merely to be normal.
Albert Camus



JQP’s Trifecta:

Sweetnorthernsaint, Sharp Humor, Brother Derek. In that order.
(Bet the farm on it. Thats how I roll bitches, now get daddy a Mint Julep.)



Your Drinks for the Weekend:

Mrs. JQP’s Big Melon Margaritas
There are few drinks that are as satisfying, ie: the chicks love it and the get drunk and show me their tities. You can buy frozen honeydew melon year round in your area grocery stores. If you have fresh, at least 6 hours in advance, cube a large ripe honeydew melon and freeze it. You can buy and cube the melon well in advance and keep it in the freezer for up to 6 months. For a more potent drink, float a shot of Midori on top of the glass before serving or drop a few roffies in it.

4 cups frozen cubed honeydew (some say she wont but I always say Honey Do) melon
3/4 cup cheap ass white tequila, or go big with the 151.
1/3 cup fresh lime juice, the key being fresh not that plastic lime shit you have had in the fridge since last summer.
6 tablespoons sugar

Place all of the ingredients in a blender and pulse until smooth. Serve in chilled glasses.

Makes 4 servings.


JQP’s Mint Julep:

You will need:

2 cups granulated sugar
2 cups water (branch water is ideal)
Fresh Mint
Crushed Ice
Kentucky Bourbon (2 ounces per serving)

Make a simple mint syrup* by boiling sugar and water together for 5 minutes; cool. Place in a covered container with 6 or 8 bruised mint sprigs. Refrigerate overnight
.
Make a julep by filling a julep cup (silver mugs and yes I have a set) or glass with crushed ice, then adding 1 tablespoon of mint syrup and 2 ounces of bourbon. Stir rapidly with a spoon to frost outside of cup or glass. Garnish with a fresh mint sprig..

*This makes enough syrup for about 44 juleps.

Extra Tips:

Always use a premium Kentucky bourbon
Use crushed or shaved ice and pack in cup.

To bruise mint, place in a cup and gently pass the back of a spoon between cup and the leaves a time or two. You want the mint to release some of the fragrant oils.

Add a straw cut to protrude just above the rim of the cup and serve. You should be able to get a faint whiff of the mint sprig when you're sipping.

Keep the covered syrup in the refrigerator (after removing the mint leaves) if you don't plan on drinking all the servings.. Enjoy later....

Today’s Bill:

SONNET 151
Love is too young to know what conscience is;
Yet who knows not conscience is born of love?
Then, gentle cheater, urge not my amiss,
Lest guilty of my faults thy sweet self prove:
For, thou betraying me, I do betray
My nobler part to my gross body's treason;
My soul doth tell my body that he may
Triumph in love; flesh stays no father reason;
But, rising at thy name, doth point out thee
As his triumphant prize. Proud of this pride,
He is contented thy poor drudge to be,
To stand in thy affairs, fall by thy side.

Quote for the Day:
He's simply got the instinct for being unhappy highly developed.
Saki

I remain, hanging out at the back of the bus with all the cool kids:

JQP esq.

On Strike:

That and I am way fucking hung-over.

All my best children, play nice while your mother and I are gone.

JQP

PS: thanks to those of you who subsidized my abuse of alcohol last night, what a shitty walk back to town that was this morning.

I too was born a coal miners daughter:

Thought for the Day:
Few are agreeable in conversation, because each thinks of what he intends to say than of what others are saying, and listens no more when he himself has a chance to speak.
Francois de La Rochefoucauld



(At first everyone thought the methane gas leak was loads of laughs, soon they were to discover just how wrong they were.)

NLT:
Once again it’s that time of week when the illuminati, holders of the secrets of the 7th seal, seekers of truth and wisdom, free drinks and reckless banter, gather at the venerable Mahogany Bar. Yes children, its time for the meeting of No-Love-Thursday Drinking Club and Mutual Aid Society.

I however, find the co-pays that my crack medical team insists on receiving before performing any life saving measures; have bitten a rather large chunk out of my rather shapely ass. Thusly, my coffers are empty. I find that in the sprit of republican fiscal responsibility, I could be temped into submitting to my more base needs and attending. But, only for the sum of one pitcher of cheap draft beer (hang my head in shame).

I have not heard if anyone else plans to attend, so if you plan on being there please RSVP, so I know how many funny party hats to bring and cookies to bake. My start time would be around 4:00pm, or as soon as I am finished arguing my case before the Supreme Court (Mrs. JQP).

On the Day Ahead:
I have been charged with coming up with two marketing plans and one program organization plan, plus the start of a new web based training project (I am lucky if I can turn the damn computer on). Add to that, I have a state report that needs to go out first thing this morning and you have a fun filled day, I think I will be ready for NLT in a lot of ways.

Dinner, Lawn Care and Mitch Daniels:
After making a wonderful dinner ( Indonesian curry beef and lemon-hot pepper couscous) that was enjoyed by all, my Svelte Bride and I went on a walk with the hounds around the estate. With the sudden rain fall this week, it soon became apparent that our lawns needed mowing, either that or wait a week and bring a hay bailer in. Using gentle persuasion, I got My Flower to mow the lawn with the new power mower she got from a co-worker who recently fled Indiana. Lazy ass, abusive husband you ask? Read on…dear soul, read on...

Now those of who know me personally know that I am more than a bit of a traditionalist. I use a Webber Grill, gas grills are evil, what is the fucking point? I might as well be in my own kitchen cooking on my Viking Commercial Grade Stove and Oven Combo.

Charcoal and wood, fire, raw meat, it’s a man thing. This world view of mine has carried over into lawn care. I use no fertilizer, no insecticide, no lawn care service, and most importantly no power mower. Yes, I mowed the lawn with a lawn mower that I found in the back of the garage when I got this house.

A 1954 Easy Mow Ever-Sharp Reel-Mower, I was the Wally Clever of my block. No gas, and noise, no problem. Oh yes, those were the days of wine and roses.

Sadly, my 1954 Easy Mow Ever-Sharp Reel-Mower, gave up the ghost three weeks ago, it snapped in half, how, I have no idea, but in half it was. Which started me searching for a suitable replacement, I had to travel into Amish country to find like minds who shun motor power lawn equipment.

Now here is the shocker, a reel mower, costs 150.00. While readying my credit card for an impulse purchase, My Flower said “Dear sweet husband, man whom I love so, can we speak further about this before you spend “our” money for your passionate cause? At which time she informed me the Soon-To-Be-Moving-To-Vegas-To-Become-High-Priced-Call-Girl-Former-Co-Worker, would sell us her new power mower with all the attachments, a new shovel, a new hoe, garden hose, full gas can, and yard trash bags all for the amazing low price of only 50 bucks.

After an impassioned plea for the power mower I gave in, with the proviso that since she loves power equipment (in lots of ways) she was to be the one who mowed the lawn. My Flower, seeking yet one more place to exert her influence over my domain, ready agreed.

Thus my comments last night, about her getting off her ass and mowing the lawn with her new power mower, in retrospect perhaps not the smartest move on my part.

Mow she did...

...bitter and angry she was.

While I sat and supervised, stopping only to made myself a gin and tonic (dbl lime). Like most good husbands it is needless to say, I can at times be manipulated, (she would say that threats of physical violence, often involving external genitals work best, that and Marine Corp death grips). I was however quick to pick up on her subtle verbal cues of displeasure with me such as: “You better get off your mother-fucking ass and help”.

…and who can forget…

“tellmeonemoretimehowtodothis
andIamgoingtocram
thisfuckingpowermowerupyourass
youfuckingdickhead
knowitallprick
ishouldofstayedalesbian
burnyouinyoursleepfucker ”.

Sensing her mood, I took a different course of action, I made myself look busy. Being a smart man with a strong instinct for self preservation, I went and weeded my extensive gardens. Please note, I have over two hundred varieties of plants growing, many of them legal to cultivate. Also I should note that My Loving Bride is not allowed to weed since last year during my period of confinement she weeded about 100 plants, to include by prize winning Afghani Poppies and my own Tulip-Onion cross breed, (I mean, everyone wants a pretty onion don’t they?)

Suffice to say, I worked in my yard until 10pm, which oddly corresponds with when she un-locked the door to our palatial manor home (note to self, always take keys with you).

Which of course brings to Mitch Daniels, Indiana’s Republican Visionary Governor.

I blame him for the martial discord I and my Loving Petite Bride had to endure last night. If not for the states move to daylight savings time, I would have been too late in the day to take on projects of this nature. On a normal Indiana day pervious to his medaling, we would have been relaxing on the davenport reading Readers Digest to eachother or watching re-runs of Little House on the Prairie, while eating pickled farm produce.

But no, this extra hour of daylight served to up-set the delicate balance of domestic tranquility that is my home. For that I curse you Mitch Daniels, Hoosier-Home-Wreaker! In fact dear readers, I has is often the case am above reproach, it is in fact all that fucking Mitch’s fault.

Today’s Bill:

SONNET 150
O, from what power hast thou this powerful might
With insufficiency my heart to sway?
To make me give the lie to my true sight,
And swear that brightness doth not grace the day?
Whence hast thou this becoming of things ill,
That in the very refuse of thy deeds
There is such strength and warrantize of skill
That, in my mind, thy worst all best exceeds?
Who taught thee how to make me love thee more
The more I hear and see just cause of hate?
O, though I love what others do abhor,
With others thou shouldst not abhor my state:
If thy unworthiness raised love in me,
More worthy I to be beloved of thee.

Quote of the Day:
Do not be too moral. You may cheat yourself out of much life. Aim above morality. Be not simply good; be good for something.
Henry David Thoreau

I remain, much like you in the firmly held belief that every day I wake-up not on fire is a good day:

JQP esq.

To Hell with the Alamo: Remember Kent State

(The more things change, the more they stay the same, This moment in History brought to you by your local Coca-Cola bottlers and viewers like you.)


JQP

Cher naked:

(While on the surface this may seem like a gay post, it is not. For the record, I would drink a mile of this woman’s piss just to see where it came from and at her advanced age, that might just be a distinct possibility when involved in certain aerobic sexual relations that I tend to favor.)

"Half Breed"

My father married a pure Cherokee
My mother's people were ashamed of me
The indians said I was white by law
The White Man always called me "Indian Squaw"

[CHORUS:]
Half-breed, that's all I ever heard
Half-breed, how I learned to hate the word
Half-breed, she's no good they warned
Both sides were against me since the day I was born

We never settled, went from town to town
When you're not welcome you don't hang around
The other children always laughed at me "Give her a feather, she's a Cherokee"

[Repeat Chorus]

We weren't accepted and I felt ashamed
Nineteen I left them, tell me who's to blame
My life since then has been from man to man
But I can't run away from what I am

[Repeat chorus]

Gadabouts and Ruffians: The Summer Social Season Begins

Thought for the Day:
Forgive your enemies, but never forget their names.
John F. Kennedy


(I have the power to move objects with my mind, just thought you should know.)

Random Things & Cast Up-Dates:

I forced my bride to watch Casablanca with me on TV the other night, she couldn’t believe I knew all the words.

M. Chamberlain, has resigned his lucrative position in the 5th Estate, and is now a full time writer; this will allow him to finish the two books he has been working on; “Framed, the Fatty Arbuckle Story” & “The Secret Life and Death of Vic Morrow”. He also plans to continue to write screen plays and work on his free-verse in his spare time. I know you the readers of PTOAPM, join me in wishing him well.

My democrats won in the primary last night (thanks in no small part to my grandparents, they have not missed an election since 1936, even though both have been gone for years now), now its time for the hard battle.

I want to start a franchise of Tea-Houses, no I don’t want to run them, I just want to sell my business and marketing plan then sit back and reap the dollars, fuck the snob-hippy-crowd.

I am wearing black sans-a-belt slacks (a comfortable poly-blend) a white silk Guayabera (traditional Cuban cut), with my white bucks today.

Tattoo John phoned my last night, as you might remember; he left without saying good-bye a few months ago. As it turns out he was abducted by right-wing death squads and only after days of gnawing at his ropes while wearing adult diapers and being forced to watch reruns of Pat Roberson’s Faith Hour and Amos and Andy, was he able to escape. He called me from a safe house outside of Chillicothe, Ohio where he is being debriefed by one of my crack teams, or teams on crack, whichever the case may be. On the plus side he has the money he owes me, something about having a good friend’s big toe cut off helps them to realign their priorities.

Its warm out and the AM whores are back in place; today I saw a pretty one on the way to work, which is odd, pretty ones are often cops. As whores go, I tend to prefer the meth-heads to the crack addicts. Sadly, all I had in my wallet were two coupons for a free Big Mac and an Oil Change at Jiffy-Lube. Damn the luck.

I was in meetings all fucking day yesterday. However, I do have to say, that now I have a better idea of how fucked-up everything is. So, the day wasn’t a total loss.

I am going to make Indonesian curry beef and lemon-hot pepper couscous, for supper tonight, because sometimes a man just feels like eating with his fingers.

While taking myself off pain pills inversely increases my pain, it does serve to make me horny, and sharpen my caustic wit.

My gay stalker sent me pictures of my ass, snapped at a local watering hole last week. He is right; my ass does look good in Bugle Boy jeans. Round like a cherry.

Pastor Bob took a week off, to finish his work on a 1/3 scale replica of the Santa Maria that has been project over the winter. Working on it, late into night, at a secret bunker complex located under his home. He plans to sail himself and his family from here to the mouth of the Mississippi over the summer. In some way he thinks this will help prove his theory that the Spanish acting under orders from the Pope, are responsible for the decline of the native beaver populations and subsequent increase in venereal disease (sometimes, I find its best not to ask). I should also note to you the reader, that the Pastor is currently co-authoring a new book with Dan Brown.

I am not going to the Derby this year. Which is cause for much sadness, yes, in fact, my head hangs low. However one of my rich friends did invite my flower and I, to Zionsville, Indiana for a Derby party with free finger sandwiches and Mint Juleps. I fucking love me some Mint Juleps and I know all the words to “My Old Kentucky Home”. However, I have to teach once again this weekend, so I don’t know if my bride and I will be in attendance.

Later that same day, Baba Ganoush Girl called and invited myself and my Precious China Doll to a Syrian Cinco De Mayio party Friday night. . Falifal Tacos, Goat and Yogurt Burritos, cold beer, and good company, who could ask for anything more? Possibility of teaching a class Saturday morning hung-over: 90%.

The neighbor girl came over to our home last night at 10PM, to ask me some legal questions, I should point out that while this conversation took place, she was holding two b-cup white bras in one hand for reason that as yet are unknown to me. Yes, this really happened.

Today’s Bill:

SONNET 34
Why didst thou promise such a beauteous day,
And make me travel forth without my cloak,
To let base clouds o'ertake me in my way,
Hiding thy bravery in their rotten smoke?
'Tis not enough that through the cloud thou break,
To dry the rain on my storm-beaten face,
For no man well of such a salve can speak
That heals the wound and cures not the disgrace:
Nor can thy shame give physic to my grief;
Though thou repent, yet I have still the loss:
The offender's sorrow lends but weak relief
To him that bears the strong offence's cross.
Ah! but those tears are pearl which thy love sheds,
And they are rich and ransom all ill deeds.

Thought for the Day:
Training is everything. The peach was once a bitter almond; cauliflower is nothing but cabbage with a college education.
Mark Twain

I remain, the maxi-pad of your bleeding heart:

JQP esq.

Repost from way back in 2004:

Girls speak-out:
God I love being a lady. My favorite part is my vagina. Mine is incredibly wide and dizzyingly deep. My favorite part about having a vagina is menstruating. Sometimes when I'm putting in my tampon, I look at the little string hanging out and pretend it's a mouse's tail. I run out of the bathroom naked and yell, "Help! Help! There's a mouse in my vagina! This usually gets a big laugh- especially if I'm at the office, or the mall, or
on an airplane.

Sometimes I pretend the string is a fuse, and that if I light it a special bomb will go off in my vagina and my period will be over. For any of you who are curious, this is not what happens when you light the string on your tampon. Even if you have soaked the tampon in kerosene overnight. Trust me I've tried it almost a dozen times without success. It does however work when you use a combination of potassium chlorate, table sugar and a small
drop of sulfuric acid.

I like to employ my used tampons to make "vampire soup". I got the recipe from 'Martha Stewart's Living'- although I use fresh basil. We bring it down to the homeless shelter and they lap it up! I also serve it at slumber parties when my girlfriends come over to watch 'Angel'. It just makes everything so much more authentic. After that we normally run around the house in our bras and panties and have tickle fights. Then we practice our
French kissing on each other.

I don't let any of the girls go down on me during my period. They have to settle for tonguing my brown starfish. But my boyfriend is another story. I like to keep my boyfriend guessing about when I'm actually on the rag. That way I can act completely irrational whenever I want. He gets mad when he goes down on me and finds out I'm having my period. But he gets me back by coating my vibrator with chopped glass. Ouch!

But in spite of all of the ups and downs, I love being a lady. Recently, I've been trying to get pregnant by stuffing my vagina with sperm I find on the floor of the porno theatre behind my house. Wish me luck, I'll keep you posted.

(this was originally sent to me by someone I still think of, a great mind)

JQP

I am an Emotional Luddite:

I’ve been a Wild Rover for many a long year:
…and brothers and sisters, it is catching up with me. I taught a class most of Saturday, while a good class (I actually had people come up and say thank-you afterward) I was deep fried. The weather has been rain, followed by more rain, which makes me a bit slower than usual. Now add to that, that I am off the pain pills for the time being, and you get a feel for the special joy that is my daily existence. Suffice to say, there were no wild naked parties, no bar fights, no nothing, other than a quiet weekend, spent with my flower.

On work:
I have a shit load of work to get done and about 50 meetings to make sure I can’t. So, this should be a fun and joy filled week, but like our president, I am the decider, and I decide, unlike our president however, I am held accountable for my decisions.

More at the top of hour:

JQP