Food Processor no Match for 86 Year Old Lebanese Woman

November 13, 2015 § Leave a comment

Vitamix 750 Pro

Vitamix 750 Pro

Family sources reported today that Teta, the 86 year old Yasso family matriarch, had reduced a Vitamix professional series 750 food processor to a smoking piece of trash.

The Vitamix 750 had performed diligently for nearly two years, longer than any other machine, preparing delicious Hummus, Kibbe, Majedra, and other Lebanese delights in the skilled, yet demanding hands of the 86 year old woman.

Representing some of the finest engineering in the culinary preparation world, and constructed of high-grade, heavy-duty material, the 750 is known globally for its ability to produce smooth textures, provide versatility in the kitchen, and overall ease of use. According to internet sources, the machine presents a powerful, durable solution to common food processing tasks.

Repeated salvos of instantaneous, pulsed puree cycles followed by firm knocks from the 86 year old hands, however, proved too much for the UL listed piece of kitchen equipment. At 5:13 p.m. today, approximately 15 minutes before the family was to sit for dinner, the machine emanated a high-pitched squeal and colorful plume of smoke just before its final preparation of Hummus.

Taking the machine’s destruction in stride, 86 year old Teta spooned the final remnants of Hummus clinging to the machines glass walled container onto a serving platter just before tossing the smoking pile of plastic, steel, and glass into the trash.

At post time, Dan, Teta’s son in law, was discussing a new food-processor’s warranty coverage with the local Best-Buy sales person.

Fucking Gerbil Still Alive

November 12, 2015 § Leave a comment


Burrower the Gerbil

94 Hickory Troy, Michigan

Sources confirmed earlier today that Burrower, the fucking gerbil, purchased as a family pet more than four years ago, is indeed still alive.

In spite of all available statistical information, Burrower, the Bousho family gerbil, has managed to sustain enough caloric intake, healthy activity, and hydration to maintain a robust and active lifestyle unlike his sibling brother, Snowy, who kicked the bucket last summer.

Normally gerbils have an expected life-span of three years with some internet sources reporting elderly gerbils maintaining complete functionality into year four. Burrower, with no signs of tumor, stroke, or general ill-health, is working on year five.

As social creatures, most human family members expected that Burrower would pass rather quickly after brother Snowy left for the ethereal light of eternity in the summer of 2014. But even after three episodes of apparent stroke like distress, long tail erect sticking from the cedar chip bedding, Burrower brushed aside death and went about spinning in his blue and white plastic exercise wheel.

At post time, Dan was seen headed to the local pet store to retrieve another bag of Gerbil food and cedar chip bedding.

My Fogle Family: Part I

August 17, 2015 § Leave a comment

I think writing as a failure is because it’s expected that the whole story can be captured in five minutes.  The extent of the attention span it seems.  At least mine most days.  But writing isn’t like that, life isn’t either. Nothing good ever happens in five minutes, it takes time, maybe even a lifetime before you get good at something.  Then you die.  That’s the bitch of it.

I was just sitting on the couch (I say couch, not sofa, even though I worked selling furniture for a while and when I said couch my managers cringed.) a minute ago thinking about my brothers kidney.  I was also thinking about you, whoever you are, reading this and wondering to myself, why would you want to read this, and why does my brother have a tumor the size of a softball on his kidney?

And does it really matter?

My name is Dan, my brother is Dave.  We have a sister Sue and we were all born to a woman named Rebecca who married a man named Edmund.

For the longest time, I thought my mother’s middle name was Sue, in fact, in the Navy I put that middle name on more than a few official papers, the fact of the matter is her middle name is Marie.  That’s why my sister’s middle name is Marie too.

My brothers middle name is Lawrence, after my father’s middle name.  My middle name is Earl which is after my grandfather’s on my mothers side.  Granddad was a Kentucky coal miner back in the day when they actually dug deep holes in the ground and men went into these holes and picked away at the coal by hand until they had a tidy pile and then they shoveled the pile into a coal car which was pulled to the surface.  Talk about some bullshit hard work, coal mining is that.  But Grandpa Melvin did that.  And when he wasn’t mining coal, he was  tear assing around the county where Central City is located.  So I hear.  Which is where he met my grandmother on my mother’s side, Alice, Alice Gay Day.

Alice was a little crazy.  I visited her when I was sixteen while she was in the purple wing of the Novi Regional unit one day after she had an episode.  I remember vividly the nurses telling me to follow the purple tiles on the floor and that would lead me to the purple wing, where, Alice was found propped up in bed, gray disheveled hair springing forth as if Medusa herself had officiated the styling, and babbling incoherently about the martians coming to take her home.  My grandmother always wanted to go home.  We all assumed home meant the great hereafter.  Grandma played the organ in church in Kentucky and took a shine to god and his kingdom.  So we just assumed that she was talking about the kingdom when she talked about home.  Martians or not.

Alice and Melvin had a brood of their own.  Uncle Kenny, Aunt Debbie, Aunt Phyllis, Aunt Linda and my Mom Rebecca.  Alice had a child die in infancy.  She never got over that.

They’re all Fogles, but according the the social security office the name is Fogie, that is if you are trying to verify some sort of birth record or such.  I found this out one day when I was at the social security office doing just that.  I was having a bitch of a time and the lady I was talking to obviously saw how frustrated I was.  She is the one that told me the spelling of the name is Fogie.  Thank god for small favors and federal workers able to put two and two together.  Something of a lark it seems these days.  But then again that was twenty years ago and I don’t suspect that the government has gotten any wiser.  So maybe if I needed to do that again I’d be fucked.

Alice also guilted Rebecca with a mind full of bullshit that she never got over.  Rebecca felt she was the perpetual keeper of her siblings.  Because that’s what Alice told her.  My mom rarely had a day of peace because of what Alice did.  Not until she died, and even then, I’m not sure she found peace.  Especially if Alice beat her there, which, of course, was the case.  And of course, assuming there is some sort of hereafter.  Who the fuck really knows?

The Consciousness of Sleep and the Universal Round

October 11, 2014 § Leave a comment

Dear IT Guy From India,

I feel that cosmically, forces deep from the universe flow through my soul, and that each evening, when I sleep, the darkness I experience is only that from which I come, and to which I will ultimately return.

I don’t fear the darkness, because in it, I find a warmth and love that makes me know that it is not my enemy, but rather, a friend. Proof of this, to me at least, is that the darkness of my sleep is split with dream, of which I can take to believe as reality as any waking moment. What is waking consciousness after all, but sensory perceptions of a world that I cannot prove exists other than my mind perceives all things I experience. Is that not the same as dream in sleep?

Coming Awake in Des Moines


Dear Coming Awake in Des Moines,

You’ve got a lot of choices with an Apache server install, and depending on your distribution or installation choices, Apache may already be installed.

Setting it up on Linux varies from machine to machine, Red Hat, Debian, Caldera, or Mandrake, among others have different ways to fine tune the install, but in the end they all work the same.

When I configure Apache, I like to keep all the binaries and associated files in one directory, typically /usr/local/apache and I’ll set up a content directory like /home/httpd/html. Here is where I’ll put all the CGI scripts and programs.

What’s nice about this setup is that if you end up with multiple “virtual hosts” running, you get an easy handle to manage it all. In a lot of distributions out there Apache is already set to go out of the box. You just start the server and populate it with content. But sometimes you have to play with the config file.

Apache is really a simple operating system to get up and running, unless you have to compile your server, which is beyond the scope here. But if it is installed already, great, you’re almost there!

Hope that helps.

On Writers and Writing

October 10, 2014 § Leave a comment

Go carefully into these dark woods

Because when power comes to subjugate people,

They go for the writers first.

They will hunt them down and kill them

Not because they are the mightiest

But because they stand for the truth

Sittin and Thinkin, and Drinkin.

June 18, 2012 § Leave a comment

William Clayton broke into Giliad’s apartment today.


He’s scopin’ the place out just to make sure his keys work. Killing is on his mind, but just how is the question.


November 11, 2011 § 2 Comments

Rusty and beat up, like a dessert mesa, the building rose. Lonely among the red sands sitting silently centered in a patch of blacktop, hot and stinking of oily asphalt fumes.

“What time he supposed to show up”

“Said Three o’clock”

“Well it’s goddam half past three o’clock now, he’s fucking late”

“Shut up”

“What d’ya mean shut up, the guy was supposed to be here half an hour ago, you shut up. I’m sick of this stink. Maybe he changed his mind.”


“What we going to do if he don’t show.”

“We’ll do it ourselves.”

“You’re nuts, we ain’t never done something like this ourselves.”

“Well, there’s a first time for everything, you ain’t scared of it are you?”

“Fuck no, I ain’t scared of shit.”


Waves of heat rose from the blacktop, shimmering mirages beyond the car’s hood, then, a stretch of baked concrete leading to a door.

“Le’me see the gun.”

He reached under the seat, feeling the upholstery brush his hands as he felt along the carpet, finally, feeling the grip, he pulled at it. It got caught in some wiring and spring work.

“Shit, this things gonna go off, blow my balls off in the process. Damn thing’s stuck.”

“Don’t blow your balls off, just get the gun out.”

He got it loose and tossed the gun on the seat next to him.

“There ya go, there it is. Now what, we gonna go or we gonna wait. We ain’t never done anything like this ourselves before.”

“Nothing to it.”

“Nothing to it my ass, we ain’t never done this ourselves before.”

“We just walk in like we own the place, walk down the hall, open the door and shoot the bastard. Simple.”

“Simple eh? You been inside? You know the layout? You know where to go?”

“Shut up.”

“Fuck you, you shut up. I say if this guy doesn’t show in the next minute we get out of here. We stick out like a sore thumb, there ain’t no other cars around us, people gonna wonder what the fuck two guys are doing sittin in a car in a goddamn half empty parking lot on such a hot fucking day. This stinks.”

Five minutes passed.

“Let’s go.”

“Yeah, let’s go, it’s about time.”

He opened the car door, stepped into the heat clutching the gun and shoving it into his pants.

“I thought you meant let’s get out of here!”

“No, we’re going to do this thing. C’mon.”

The door handle burned the second his hand touched it. Yanking, quickly, the door fell open and a wash of cool air flooded across his sweated body filling it with sudden chill.


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