- Far too many of you are using pleasurable when you should use pleasant. Pleasurable has fairly strong connotations, and they’re not necessarily good polite conversation. Do your part on this, please. Thank you.
- Another winter of neglect; another spring of firing right up on the first try.
- I did have a tool fatality in the process, though, when I went to air up the right rear tire (which I do every single time I need it instead of taking 30 minutes one time to fix it properly). I had a little inexpensive rechargeable compressor a little larger than a lunchbox that I think I bought the year Lea and I got married, so nearly 20 years ago. I had replaced the battery once, but that was it. What a great soldier! Well, some sintered hardware inside it has irreparably failed, so I finally said goodbye last night. I replaced it with this, which feels a little flimsy, but I’ll be happy if I get two or three years out of it. (Slam-dunk, really. Already had a battery to run it.)
- I had the best club sandwich of my life yesterday at AM Booth’s Lumberyard in Huntsville. It was perfect. It was generously constructed, including thick bacon. It came on fresh jalapeno-cheddar FredBread. I’ll go back for that sandwich often.
- The opening 2017 Formula 1 race was reasonably entertaining. It looks as if Ferrari may be competitive this year and give us some Lewis Hamilton relief.
- I’m mostly OK with the stage racing in NASCAR this year, but I think throwing a yellow at the end of each stage is stupid. Keep it green, count the points, and race on.
- The weather looks delightfully mild over the next week or ten days. We didn’t have much of a winter, but we are apparently going to have a spring.
There is a thoughtful piece on Rocket City Mom about how to talk to your kids about pornography. Obviously, that’s a different discussion now than it was thirtysomething years ago when I first hit puberty.
My “pornographic” education was rather tamer. At 12 I saw the video for Don Felder’s “Bad Girls,” and just…whew. Wow. This is freakin’ great. I mean, how could it get any dirtier than this?
Sigh. Can we have the off-the-shoulder top back in style, please?
It wouldn’t be too much longer before my friend David and I would discover a few magazines in my dad’s closet—magazines whose title rhymes with Bent Mouse—which then contributed their own bits to our respective mosaics. You know, the photographs of naked women were nice, but in hindsight, they really weren’t the main takeaways. It was mostly the ridiculous letters that made their marks. We read about all kinds of goofy shit that I thought was going to be a lot more common that it turned out to be.
(Or maybe it is, and I’m still living a really sheltered life, but I kind of doubt it.)
Then there were the teen skin comedies of the ’80s, which, once captured onto VHS, were treasured possessions indeed. Your Revenge of the Nerds. Your Hardbodies. Your Goin’ All The Way!—a strange little low-budget example that HBO must have run a bit. I bought an old VHS rental of that one on eBay ten or so years ago, then digitized it so I could enjoy it on my computer screen at my leisure. As I type, it’s probably the raciest thing on my hard drive.
The first actual X-rated film I saw was Devil In Miss Jones—practically an ABC Afterschool Special compared to what kids can effortlessly punch up today.
In this post I’ve lightheartedly enjoyed remembering my first exposures to dirty pictures. Part of that is simple nostalgia, but a more sociologically important component of it is that I really did have one of the last “innocent” childhoods in this regard.
Pornography is a far graver problem now than it was in the early ’80s, when I was first coming of age. It’s a lot harder to have a “silly” exposure to it now. The exploitation is exponentially worse; the depictions and consequently warped realities of its young consumers far more serious.
If you can relate to what I’ve written above and smile, please do. But then please do go read the linked piece on Rocket City Mom.
And watch BoWilliams.com for further posts on 21st-century pornography and what we need to do about it.
I got a great mental one-two this weekend, resulting in what my car sales motivational training called a “checkup from the neck up.”
One was lunch on Friday with Saintseester that I considered canceling as close to the appointment as 20 minutes before. (This would be in the interest of sparing her my pissy attitude.) Glad I didn’t. She’s immune to most of what I dish when I’m pissy, and I needed to hear what she had to say.
Two was a great walk with Aaron that was a casual addition to Sunday afternoon after church. We checked out the Swan Creek Greenway in Athens, which is really right in the middle of town, but you don’t have to walk very far down it to feel like you’re not. We weren’t ideally attired and it was constantly drizzling, so we only explored about half. The rest will be there when we go back. (And call my Walls of Jericho training officially underway.)
- I met Conni for lunch at Cahoots in Hartselle today. What a visually fascinating place! Looking forward to taking Lea over there.
- I showed Nathan True Romance this week. I love this film, though I’d forgotten how quirky the score is. It’s almost playful, though given most of what happens on-screen, it’s disconcerting rather than calming.
- Hopefully, my combat with our dishwasher is near an end. Its new drain pump is installed, and its new inlet valve will be tomorrow evening. Probably another $100-150 saved, thanks to RepairClinic.com.
- The new Formula 1 season is upon us. Here’s hoping the changes to the cars will make for better competition. (They certainly look better.)
- I was on vacation when we had to change the damned clocks this time, so it was largely transparent to me. I’ll have to remember that.
- We might be done with any reasonable prospect of a freeze. Guess I’d better cut the onions this weekend.
- Posts (and/or possibly post series) in progress: A wet shaving primer; best and worst ROI for high quality in daily use items; and a new feminist manifesto.
This is part of an ongoing series reviewing hot wings in the Huntsville area. Visit #HsvHotWings for a comprehensive linked list.
Taylor’s Wing Shak, suggested by reader Amanda Conger, is located out Winchester Road a piece, in always-bigger-than-I-remember-it northeastern Huntsville. Rachel and I went out for lunch to check it out.
Taylor’s is nearly full service, with the only you-tote-it part being the check at the end. Of the numerous combos available, the eight wings and fries for $9.25 seemed the best option for lunch, so I went with that. You’re allowed to get two flavors with the eight-wing combo, so in a bit of a departure for the post series, I got four supernova wings (“with heat like the sun”) and four lemon pepper wings. Celery is an extra buck, but you get a lot of it (interesting detail). Our service was friendly, prompt, and unobtrusive.
Quality: 5/10. My wings were appealingly basketed, with clear delineation between fries, supernova wings, and lemon pepper wings. They were fried effectively, with crispy skin yet juicy meat, and served at a good temperature. Unfortunately, size was rather lacking. I had a couple that approached reasonable, but most were small, and one was a two-bite runt.
Flavor: 7/10. All of my wings tasted good. The supernova wings have an immediate chili pepper kick, and then smooth out on a sweet barbecue note. The lemon pepper wings had an appealing salty tartness, with a good bit of black pepper background. Yummy.
Heat: 5/10. The supernova wings come out of the gate warm, and then climb a bit. I got a little sheen on my forehead, and a little tearing followed. I had a mild afterburn of about five minutes. (Heat commentary is for the supernova wings only.)
Taylor’s Wing Shak seems a promising joint that wants to be taken seriously, with numerous flavor and combo possibilities. Indeed, they’ve got a lot of the melody down. A bump on wing size could make this a great stop.