Smells Like Da' Coqui

A blog outta nowhere…

In doing some general research for a trip I will soon be embarking on, and because such things concern me, I ended up researching what Puerto Rico smells like.

Thanks to our World Wide Web I have now determined that coquis smell like Pabst Blue Ribbon beer. So I’m now looking forward to, beyond seeing and hearing these little things, smelling them.

One may ask, “Wow! How did you come to research the smell of the coqui, Darkgarden?”
It all started one day a long… no… not long, as time is relative to me. It all started one day in the past when I started thinking about Puerto Rico being a possible new home for me. The allure of the endless lack of cold is a pleasing thing for one of my nature.

Though I grieve deeply for America, I do dislike the idea of turning my back on it as well. I don’t believe there is any revolutionary hope for it, and I feel as I type that it is dying; the America as we know and love it. I have served it civilly and as such feel that I know a deeper pulse that it carries beyond the majority. This led to a dilemma. In so serving, I also feel attached, and don’t fancy the aspect of severing that tie. The idea of investigating Puerto Rico became relevant when one researches the cost of everything in the keys of south Florida. With Puerto Rico receiving the percentage based highest amount of government benefits, I figure they probably don’t hate us too much either. This has strayed a bit from the topic at hand, but some background never hurts a blog that no one (ok…hardly anyone) reads anyway, and serves as an outlet of thought and reflection.

So we come back to the wee coqui.

I think the Smell-O-Da-Coqui has gained its fame more from the likes of Smell-O-Da-Puerto-Rican.

Of course anyone from Puerto Rico at this point, probably wouldn’t welcome me with open arms. I admit, the concern that I have most about Puerto Rico is how everyone smells.
I hear the generic tales of Europeans being a slight more lack in hygiene than we are used to here in America (the more civilized parts). I am thus hoping that, perhaps in Puerto Rico, people received their cleanliness from … umm… those in habitation nearer to high populated towns or cities in mainland America.

I admit I have more than once ejected someone from my office who arrived there for a prearranged meeting, only do be stinking like things I dread in my thoughts on olfactory experiences. (I mean.. COME ON!... You people die and lay and gather stink that an everyday person could not vaguely imagine! This is all well and good, but someone has to remove you after the fact, and in this area, I seem to have a knack of ending up with you. I can always forgive this accompanied by the feeling of pity and dread, but when you’re alive and you present yourself to someone else in public smelling the foulest of fouls, don’t fucking act surprised when someone eventually tells you, “Dude, look. You smell terrible. Why would you think of presenting yourself in such a manner? I’d be happy to meet with you when you return clean.”) Therefore my concerns about an overall public smell seem relevant… and shall remain so.

I have been constantly bombarded by people telling me that I would never move to such a location. This, of course, only serves to make me hope like hell that the place smells ok, as I’ve lost count of how many people I would so dearly love shove my dick in their ass upon my departure. I’ve unfortunately recognized so many, that it would bring tears to your eyes if you allowed the emotion to take the steering wheel for a short time. …and yeah yeah… You have those types everywhere. Fuck! The majority of the population consists of those types! However, the good ones out there always overpower the assholes (smelly or not), and for that reason I, for one, continue to fight the good fight.

Lets just say, I want a change of ass-holes. I’ve exhausted the ones around here.

...and I do wonder how the coqui smells at twilight.

Quantum Zombie Rapture

So I got to wondering with this Rapture business...

Considering Quantum Mechanics... Could the world be ending simultaneously along with creation?

On that thought... If every neutron decided to go rouge for whatever cause at the same time... Would we just blight out in a wink, or would shit get really fucked up n' stuff? Like, all of a sudden instead of playing paddle-ball, you are suddenly a vapor of smoke blowing over the top of a rotting log that also used to be President Eisenhower.

I guess the immediate answer (that came to me anyway) is that there would be no realization whatsoever, and if one were looking from the outside in (which wouldn't be possible I imagine) the existence in front of them would readjust into something probably non-describable here. (I'm guessing any more than we could write a working formula for time travel.)

So I then fall back on the concept of the world ending instantaneously.

See... Now.. If the fucking Rapture would have just come along (especially accompanied by the Blondie song a few minutes ahead of time!) all this would be for naught. I'd be driving around in a really cool vehicle of sorts, shooting the shit out of zombies (no doubt on my way to hook up with Charlie) and loving life. Unfortunately Sis (if not taken up by The Rapture) would have had her head bitten off by some zombie looking like Tom Bombadil in the first half hour while she believed she was tromping off to The Shire.

..and Johnboy... Would live several weeks without even knowing shit was going down... Cause even zombies couldn't find him up on that mountain.

Damn you Rapture!

I was LOST

I recall several years ago trying to enjoy a series I thought at the time to be my kind of thing. LOST. I started the first few episodes watching, but I couldn't understand what was going on. The rest of the main family (at that time and place... which is a cool thing to say when speaking of LOST) seemed to follow it pretty good, but it took too much thinking on my part and I soon tired out.

So years later, I decided to try again. Mainly thanks to NETFLIX streaming thing where I can watch a shitload of stuff without having to wait for it in the mail. It just streams into my Blu-Ray however it does, and I get to watch episode upon episode.

I just got done investing around 100 hours of LOST viewing to see what everything was about. I enjoyed it actually. Being able to watch episodes back to back helped me understand the flow of the story (though I can't say I understood shit about what was going on at times).

Like a train-wreck you're watching in real time... I viewed the last few hours. Those who know anything about me know I don't watch (try to avoid) anything where a dramatic death of anyone major takes place.

I'm not sure I understand a lot of it, but by the end of LOST, I can now add just a little more trauma to my psyche.

I have a lot of questions, but refuse to revisit what I'm sure are thousands of threads on the matter. I will carry the baggage of LOST's deaths with me as just another weight added to an athletes training pack.

The writers did very good with Hugo and Jack (and I hate that fucking name). Yup... Everyone did love Hugo. However, where most liked Jack... I liked the fact that no matter what, he remained this pathetic, searching guy throughout the entire series. Right up to the end he is the one who still seems out there at sea hanging on a buoyant piece of debris. They chose an actor with the best "What-The-Fuck-Is-Going-On?" look.

Hell, frankly, they did an outstanding job with most of the characters for that matter.

Though I'm not really sure what the fuck I just spent about 100 hours watching, I think it was enjoyable and recommend it to anyone.

Watching it week to week? I can see why I gave up on it and left it to the rest of the family at the time. You miss one viewing or forget something and you're going to be lost. (I took notes from time to time, and asked questions from the ex at times... not that I got any type of relevant answer.)

So... when it comes down to watching FOX and the whole Osama thing, or being LOST, I chose LOST. (...and quite a few nights were spent watching non-stop FOX anyway.)

Back to LOST... I'd like to say who my favorite dude was on the show... However, it sort of just creeps to the group favorites. Hugo, John, Benjamin, Smoke-dude, Jack, et al. Just can't name one. Where I'd like to pick Hugo, I won't because everyone else picks him. So... I'll choose the noise that Smoke-dude makes after he grabs someone and is reeling them in!... It sounds like my brother making his old-car sound with his mouth.

Snowz Birthday... but... This is just a tribute...

What could I possibly give the two dearest things in my life on what is classified and celebrated as such a special day?

I asked myself that very question and pondered on it today. For today is the day before your next birthday.

The number of your years doesn’t really matter. You’re both men now, and yet there is that emotionally attached feeling for you both that will forever remain suspended in a timeless existence.

The date for that matter also doesn’t really matter, for I need no reminder to celebrate your first breath and my first gaze upon you both. I feel these things as an ever present constant in my life; every conscious and alert moment, in the depths of my dreams and deepest slumber.

Every momentous to mundane moment from the first time you entered my life was a pleasure. The bond I see between you is stronger than any living thing I know, and could only compare it to the strength of, like… the hefty Roosevelt Elk, or mighty Sequoia… no… because… those are living… so…wait... Perhaps… Bedrock! Yes. Solid and ageless bedrock … or granite! IRON! Yarrr! All those things! Yes! Mighty dead things that are very strong, but not alive that they would rot away or something like that!

I remember the feeling of tightly wrapping you both in your blankets for nap time. How still you would both lie. You were both most comfortable when you were next to each other … … Even though I’d wrap you both so tight that your faces would turn this really attractive purplish color.

You’ve heard me say it before, and I’ll say it again, (for its hard for me to believe as well) that every diaper I changed (you had to know this was coming) I truly enjoyed the moment. It was the caring and comfort that I could provide you. That simplest of tasks and servitude became an honor. … … … ... and…. There were plenty of other times, tasks and things of servitude that I guess were a little more pleasurable. I’m guessing, like, perhaps the offering of a nice piece of fluffy cake was a little more appealing, or so some would think. So… … … Fluffy cake and the diaper change! They are right up there boy-os!

The years of gaming came on quickly as well. What dear, sweet boyz you both were. Crawling up on the couch to glimpse your first experience with gaming. Sonic, Echo, Mario of course, and within a year… my boyz went hardcore with Resident Evil. What a proud moment. The quest continues. Myus, Syladren, Theabyss! (Oh yeah!) They are all represented here as well. All of Virginia is here on this day… … … wait… … Sorry… Wrong moment.

I’m very proud how you have both been aware and careful to monitor your physical health and stamina. You survived four years at Hampshire High School and came out the other end (which is a very appropriate analogy if I do say so myself) better men. It was an honor to watch you both mature beyond any comprehension I even had of maturity at such an age. Your caring and pleasant nature effects everyone you touch. You have learned and practice compassion, and that my dear boyz is a rare trait indeed.

In the concept of life, you allow yourself to learn something new all the time, and yet retain the ability to teach a wise man a lesson or two. You… are fancy lads.

I figure this is about enough for your reading attention span right about now, and I’m running out of attempted clever lines and other written things.

So, because it is tradition, I say unto you, “Happy Birthday Snow-Boyz!!!” However, I merely shake my head and smile because I cherish and celebrate you both so very deeply with every passing moment, every single day of the year.

I so love you both.

Memories of The Taylor Pork Roll Grill

The memories of my childhood seem to be somewhat skewed, as is often pointed out by others. (cough… Linguiniandjohnboy!) However, for good or bad, I thought I’d touch on a favorite of mine; brought on because I purchased some pork meat.

Atlantic City didn’t have any casinos back then, and I’m sure it wasn’t even an unrealized idea. In looking back I guess it was a sad time for the boardwalk as everything around it was aging and dying off. There was a new time rolling in that would eventually be swallowed up by the mega-casinos now overpowering every square inch of the boards.

The late 60’s and very early 70’s still kept a great flavor up and down the boardwalk for a lot of us. One of my favorite places was the Taylor Pork Roll grill. I don’t remember where it was, but the smell and atmosphere left many of us with memories that will last more than a lifetime.

Many times I remember going into the grill and getting a nice hot Taylor Pork Roll sandwich, fresh off the flames and an ice cold root beer. WIth that kind of a combo, man, you are in heaven. Sometimes we’d sit inside on cushioned barrel type chairs, or we’d carry our eats out onto the boardwalk, where any dropped crumb was immediately devoured by stalking gulls or people-friendly pigeons.

The interior was dark woods and brick. It was very comforting and smelled delicious. The only thing you could smell inside was the grilling.

Outside, the moms and dads all looked swell with their truly happy kids surrounding them. Smiling and laughing they would go by dripping ice cream from overstuff cones or leaving a trail of peanut shells as they shared a freshly roasted bag from the Mr. Peanut store. The air was intoxicating with smells of the sea, boardwalk and roasting pork roll. The ocean’s roar the cynical scream of the gulls and the sound of the pork roll grill all combined to complete this simple event.

All of that was brought to those of us lucky enough to experience it because of Taylor Pork Roll, which was(is?) a staple in New Jersey board of fare.

Probably right here I would have posted a picture of the infamous grill, if I could have found one. Alas, my internet searching came up short. So if anyone out there has a picture or a link to one, it would sure be appreciated and would fit right in.

Taylor Pork Roll is a treat you never get sick of, and it remains a shame that it is hard to find it in our area. There is just something about peeling off the burlap casing to slice off a few pieces to fry up.

I don’t know when they started packaging it like the following, but this is what Taylor Pork Roll is reducing itself to look like in present times:

That’s my brief recollection and how I like to remember it. I shall now look forward to Linguini telling me something like, “You know we only took you there once, and you threw up on some kid with an ice cream cone right after you ate. That was the trip where a gull shit on pa’s shirt and you pitched a fit because you didn’t get some toy.”

OMG... My Nephew plays for Phily Union!!!

SWEET!!!

THE ARM! aka Why I haven't blogged.