live from the guillotine

Here We Go, Depression 2.0!

Many concerned conservatives have been urging their fellows to call their representative and voice their displeasure with the Democrats' Depression 2.0, Bankrupt America plan. 

Yet I have nothing to do.  Indeed, having sensible Congresspersons who realize what a generational threat this bill is going to be, have already declared they will not support it.  Call your Congressman?  Ha!  Last night my Congressman called me.  He informed all of us participating on the conference call that he had no intention of voting for a bill that creates little in the way of jobs, but furthers the growth and reach of government to such a degree that the very Republic is in danger.  And then he took questions for well over an hour.  This, my friends, is representative democracy at it's finest.  I'll be willing to bet it isn't happening all over the country.

From The Corner at National Review, my congressman also has a bill I DO support:

Rep. John Carter, a Texas Republican, sent out a press release earlier today about his innovative new bill:

"Rangel Rule"

All U.S. taxpayers would enjoy the same immunity from IRS penalties and interest as House Ways and Means Chairman Charles Rangel (D-NY) and Obama Administration Treasury Secretary Timothy Geithner, if a bill introduced today by Congressman John Carter (R-TX) becomes law.

Carter, a former longtime Texas judge, today introduced the Rangel Rule Act of 2009, HR 735, which would prohibit the Internal Revenue Service from charging penalties and interest on back taxes against U.S. citizens. Under the proposed law, any taxpayer who wrote “Rangel Rule” on their return when paying back taxes would be immune from penalties and interest.

Thank you, Congressman Carter!

Count me shocked that the Depression 2.0 bill passed with not a single Republican vote.  I didn't think they had it in 'em.  MrG would like me to note, and I fully agree, that if they had shown this kind of united fiscal discipline when they were actually in charge of the Congress we wouldn't be in this hideous situation to begin with.  The compromising of principles and lack of leadership brought us to this day.   You finally stand together to oppose insane spending at just the moment it does absolutely no good since you're now in the minority.  Thanks guys!

I hope they've learned from their mistakes as they're fully responsible for them.  As always, we taxpayers foot the bill.  And our children.  And our grandchildren.  And our great-grandchildren. 

Now on to the Senate where Republicans can be counted on to give Obama and the Democrats cover for the socialist takeover of our country.  Do not do it, Republican Senators! Do not do it!   Or, as the Wall Street Journal puts it:

This is supposed to be a new era of bipartisanship, but this bill was written based on the wish list of every living -- or dead -- Democratic interest group. As Speaker Nancy Pelosi put it, "We won the election. We wrote the bill." So they did. Republicans should let them take all of the credit.

Thanks to Ace of Spades for this last quote. 

Compare and Contrast

God works in mysterious ways.  My cousin, Ron, sent me a link to a blog with a 90 second stick figure recap of 24, just for giggles.  It was funny, but the blog itself really interested me and I read several other posts.  As the matter of fact, I'm linking it now and thanks to Brant Hansen for his blog and this wonderful story.

Remember that Christian high school basketball team recently in the news that destroyed the opposing team and keep right on going until the final score was 100-0?  From ABC News:

A Texas high school girls basketball team has apologized for winning big. The Covenant School, a private Christian high school in Dallas, defeated Dallas Academy last week in a blowout: 100-0.

And:

During the lopsided Jan. 13 game, spectators said the Covenant School ran up the score, playing aggressive offense, even with their 59-0 lead at halftime. The girls kept on the pressure until they scored the 100th point.

The Dallas Academy, a small private school with 20 girls, is for students with learning disabilities. With eight girls on the varsity team, these young women are used to challenges on and off the court. Despite hours in the gym practicing each week, the Bulldogs haven't won a girls basketball game in five years.

I wanted to write about this earlier in the week, because both my older kids played on teams with 8 players at the varsity level.  The basketball teams weren't as bad as the 8 player football team, needless to say, but we've lost nearly as ugly here at the guillotine.  I'm a sports fan, so I understand playing the kids hard and working not only for the current game but also the next game.  I can understand Covenant up to the half, but beyond that, what the hell were they thinking? 

What Covenant did to Dallas Academy was unsportsmanlike, tacky, and at the very least, beneath the values that Christian parents hope for when they send their kids to private school hoping to take care of their children's academic and moral training.  Not a single player came out a winner in this game, as Covenant showed absolutely no class, let alone Christ-like qualities. 

After reading about that game, imagine my delight in coming across this story at Letters from Kamp Krusty.  It seems a Christian football team from Grapevine, Texas decided to do the right thing and their coach initiated it.  This is a Christian school I'd want my kids to attend:

It was rivers running uphill and cats petting dogs. More than 200 Faith fans sat on the Gainesville side and kept cheering the Gainesville players on—by name.

"I never in my life thought I'd hear people cheering for us to hit their kids," recalls Gainesville's QB and middle linebacker, Isaiah. "I wouldn't expect another parent to tell somebody to hit their kids. But they wanted us to!"

Who were these Gainesville boys?

But then you saw the 12 uniformed officers escorting the 14 Gainesville players off the field and two and two started to make four. They lined the players up in groups of five—handcuffs ready in their back pockets—and marched them to the team bus. That's because Gainesville is a maximum-security correctional facility 75 miles north of Dallas. Every game it plays is on the road.

This all started when Faith's head coach, Kris Hogan, wanted to do something kind for the Gainesville team. Faith had never played Gainesville, but he already knew the score. After all, Faith was 7-2 going into the game, Gainesville 0-8 with 2 TDs all year. Faith has 70 kids, 11 coaches, the latest equipment and involved parents. Gainesville has a lot of kids with convictions for drugs, assault and robbery—many of whose families had disowned them—wearing seven-year-old shoulder pads and ancient helmets.

So Hogan had this idea. What if half of our fans—for one night only—cheered for the other team? He sent out an email asking the Faithful to do just that. "Here's the message I want you to send:" Hogan wrote. "You are just as valuable as any other person on planet Earth."

Do yourself a favor and find out what it meant to the Gainesville boys by reading the whole thing.  

God's talking to us every day.  Coach Hogan was listening and everyone was a winner that night. 

In the Midst of WWIV, Depression 2.0?

Peter Kirsanow at National Review Online: 

So . . . we're going to have a tax cheat in charge of the IRS, a man instrumental in the pardoning of terrorists as top terrorism watchdog, and a woman whose husband gets tens of millions from foreign governments in charge of implementing foreign policy.

 

Also from Andy McCarthy, links to two articles on the gigantic, horrifying, wasteful, and useless "stimulus" package, Depression 2.0, that is about to be crammed down our throats by the Democrats.  The first from Conn Carroll at Heritage: 

Speaker Nancy Pelosi (D-CA) yesterday told Politico: “Yes, we wrote the bill. Yes, we won the election.” The House bill perfectly demonstrates how the left is using the economic stimulus bill as cover to accomplish its long-held desire to permanently increase the size of the federal government, with little or no benefit to the American taxpayer.

Today’s top six disastrous highlights..

After reading that, check out Connie Hair's article at Human Events:

The Democrat “stimulus” bill -- a bill that was created behind closed doors by Democrat leadership who usurped the normal committee process -- reaches nearly a trillion dollars in spending, and the non-partisan analysts cannot guarantee that this $825 billion in proposed legislation would create one single job.  

The Democrats are going to end up turning this recession into a depression, just wait and see.  If they don't manage it, it will be a miracle.  What remains unclear, at least for now, is whether or not they are doing it intentionally.  I guess we'll soon see since Obama is  meeting with the Republicans today. 

Will the Republicans be silly enough to vote for this monstrosity and give the Democrats the political cover they desparately seek?  Probably. 

 

Mom Needs Some Christmas Pictures

Here are a few snaps from the Hogan Family Christmas.  We aren't very good photographers are we?  Nevermind.  On with the show:

Opening presents, Daddy in his "Poppy" hat. He isn't smiling because of the hat, Uncle B.  He's smiling because Hen and I gave him every episode of "The Rockford Files".  I'm still kinda bummed that I only had time to watch the first 6 episodes, just to make sure it was all good.  

We made chicken n' dumplins for Sunday lunch.  Veritas is usually my go to dumplin' gal, but she was on her way from college town, so the dumplin' baton was passed on to my oldest daughter, Valentine, and my sister Henny.  They did a great job.  Yes, we roll out the biscuits.  It would be insane not to do so.  Trust me on this.

No, my sister's real name isn't Henny.  I've told this before on the blog, but I'm too lazy to look it up and link it.  Henny is a childhood nickname.  I call her Henny.  She calls me Fuzzy.  My cell phone speed dial says "Henny Home" and "Henny Cell".  I get birthday cards addressed "Dear Fuz".  I guess it runs in the family that both Hen and Fuz will pose for a picture with anything, even a biscuit can.  Mom gets in on the dumplin' action:

I'm not sure what Mom's holding there.  The last piece of Poppy's Perfect Peanut Brittle perhaps?

Here's a shot of Mom, Hen, and me.  (Yes, mother, this is the best picture I had.  One had your eyes closed, the other had Hen's eyes closed. This is the proverbial  IT, even though I appear to be preparing to attend a Marilyn Manson concert by underlining my eyes with black splotch.) :

This picture reminds me of a trip to the dentist when Mom said I would get my teeth cleaned and because I was young, I actually believed that "getting your teeth cleaned" meant my teeth would morph into movie star wide and bright like Mom and Hen here.  I smiled in the bathroom mirror after the cleaning, expecting Mom's teeth to wink back at me, only to find I still had Dad's teeth, only cleaner.  It was a bitter blow. 

And no family event would be complete without the Joker! game:

Bug, Spence, and Uncle B.  Note how Bug and Uncle B immediately hide their cards while Spence, so innocent, keeps his fanned out.  Sad, that.  Another Joker! shot:

(l-r) Veronica, Viagra, Bug, Spence, Uncle B, Uncle B's rabbit ears on Willard 'cause that's just how we roll, Willard.  Again, Veronica covers her cards while Willard just hangs 'em out there for the world to see.  I bet he didn't win a game, bless his heart. 

Now we do get ridiculous about the Joker! game.  Rules are hotly debated, arguments break out, and family members act as if the very Constitution of the United States might have been spat upon during any questionable move.  Also, we're alot Irish.  On the one hand I find that troubling, but on the other, I've played Skip-Bo with mom's mom, MaMa.  I've seen MaMa slap a hand over a card, glare, and grit out, "A CARD LAYED IS A CARD PLAYED." 

At the time, she was playing with my 6 year-old daughter and 5 year-old son.  I guess she'd mellowed.  There was a time when she was really serious about her card games. (Kidding!!  She wasn't playing with the kiddies when she did that.  The rest:  True Story.)

Can we ever overcome our genes plus our history?  In our family, not if we play cards. At least we aren't like Dad's side of the family, who actually came to blows over a 42 game.  Having played 42 with them, it's completely understandable.  They are terrible table talkers and not the least bit subtle.  They might as well take out an ad in the New York Times entitled, "I'm going in 6's.  Do you have the double, partner?  And also, the 6:5?  After that, I got it!" 

And speaking of the Dark Side, our domino brawler cousin Mas dropped by to visit during Christmas.  Fun Times!  Here's a shot of me, Mas, and Hen:

We look completely sane, what with being domino throwdown Hogans, dontcha think?

Cousins Kim and Howard also showed up Sunday afternoon.  Kim, Howard, Hen and I spent many a summer at Granny Hogan's house tearin' up anvils, locking each other in the cellar, swimmin' in the cow's watering trough, ridin' pigs and motorcycles, and swingin' on cables from the top of the barn rafters into the cotton trailer.  I'll never forget the time I sailed past the cotton trailer, let go with seriously bad timing at the far end of the barn, landed all the way down on the dirt floor of the barn, flat on my back, breath completely knocked out of me, and turned my head upon the dirty straw to look deeply into the eyes of a skunk.  Incapacitiated, I could only stare at the skunk and hyperventilate further.  Lucky for me, the skunk had met Rusty the farm dog earlier in the day and was dead as a doornail.  It took me long minutes I will never forget to wrap my brain around the  fact that the skunk was actually dead, although still seriously rank.  I may have kissed Rusty later, but that's between me and Rusty.

Sadly, our camera died at that point and I don't have a picture of the four of us.  We had some serious fun on that farm, but it's probably for the best that there is no photographic evidence as Kim just could NOT keep her mouth shut.  We were sitting in Hen's living room with my teenagers and Kim just blurts out, "Remember when you used to drive us around all over the county and we weren't supposed to go past the railroad tracks?  And we just snuck on into town and got caught on main street?  You were a wild child, Lana!"

People who do not have teenagers!  Do not tell these stories in front of other people's children.  Now all the kiddies want to drive the car, though they don't have a license or even a permit, just like Mommy.  Granted, Granny let me drive around the back roads at 13 and 14 with my cousins and sister, which was insane, but that doesn't mean I'm going to agree to it with my children.  Duh!  You just know they'll go past the railroad tracks and roar right into town.  Hello?  They're my kids.  What WAS Granny thinking? 

And what was I thinking?  She lived in a town of what, 1500-2000 people, perhaps only a third of the population directly related to us?  Knew me by name?  Recognized the car?  What person with a brain in their head could have predicted someone might notice?  The party line was burning up with the fact that we'd crossed the railroad tracks before we even hit main, dontcha know. 

Remember when you thought your parents and grandparents were mind reading geniuses?  Then, after you had children, you realized that the real problem in your nefarious deeds being found out was that you were dumb as a box of rocks.  

No matter my glare, Kim would not be silenced.  She then had to engage my sister and tell about how, "Lana would hang her feet out the car window and let us sit in the floorboard and do the gas?"

I was always there for them, bringing the fun, but just as I was about to insist for the benefit of my youngsters that it never happened, Hen rats me out, "Good Times!!"

And now for the kiddies.  This wasn't taken exactly at Christmas, but it CRACKS ME UP!  Hen's baby boy, Hogan, is Spiderman.  Aside from a few missing legs, he's a dead ringer:

Hen's baby, Ella Jo!  It's hard to say whether she looks like her Momma or her Aunt Lana.  This picture, however, trends toward Hen.  It doesn't matter, really, as her personality is all Aunt Lana.  I'll take it:

(l-r) Hen's oldest daughter's (Weewee) baby, Kyleigh, Vision, Hogan with claw hand, Ellie Bellie, and the pumpkin. 

Vision, Kyleigh, and Ella Jo. 

WeeWee and Kyleigh.  Kyleigh was getting pretty tired at this point, but she's still trying to bring the smiles.  What a sweetheart.  

Daddy and Ella Jo.

 
The pumpkin:  Take my picture!

Ella Jo and the pumpkin diving on Spence before bedtime.  The pumpkin appears to have Ella Jo in a headlock, note the tight grip around Ella Jo's neck.  But it's love, people.  A love lock about the neck and shoulders. 

Hogie Bear and the pumpkin.  "We made candy necklaces.  Thanks Val!  Also we're tired of smiling for all these pictures."

  All the kiddies:  Ella, Veronica, Pumpkin, Veritas, Hogie, Spence, Kyleigh.

Veritas and the pumpkin.  Just cause I like this one.  It's late, I know, but life happens on the way to Merry Christmas.  Even so, we had a very, merry Christmas.   

Congratulations, America!

Obama’s Victory

A victory for the hysterical Oprah Winfrey, the mad racist preacher Jeremiah Wright, the mainstream media who abandoned any sense of objectivity long ago, Europeans who despise America largely because they depend on her, comics who claim to be dangerous and fearless but would not dare attack genuinely powerful special interest groups.

A victory for Obama-worshippers everywhere. A victory for the cult of the cult. A man who has done little with his life but has written about his achievements as if he had found the cure for cancer in between winning a marathon and building a nuclear reactor with his teeth.

Read the whole thing.

Fun Times! 1.20.09 Edition

1)  Today is daughter Veronica's birthday!  Happy Birthday Sweetie!!!  Thank you so much for not only loving my son, but contributing to the silliness and sarcasm around here.  We would be seriously diminished without your valuable contributions in the sly aside department.  Perhaps most families don't appreciate the excellent laugh as much as we do, but we treasure you for it. 

Veronica is an incredibly loving mother to our Kitty, which has to be a bit of a trial at times as the Kitty is just as stubborn and relentless as her Daddy.  Veronica has a huge capacity to love and it shows with the way she has embraced her husband's siblings and at times, fiercely taken them and their trials, setbacks, and triumphs as her own.    I especially appreciate her in those times because she's so relentless in her support and/or outrage.  The relentlessness doesn't just come from Daddy, after all. 

She has taken us all into her heart and it is a blessing.  I hope we bless her at least as much as she blesses us.  And I'm not just talking about her insane court-side behavior, although that is most excellent.  She brings passion to every sport and she's dead serious about the no whiner rule.  What's not to love?

2)  Basketball tonight.  Willard's game was good, but not overly exciting.  In excellent news, the boys finally figured out how to beat the press and amazingly, it was what their coach had been telling them to do all along.  Great job, coach!  Also excellent, only half as many turn overs this game, which means...  Put one in the win column!

In funny news, Willard actually dribbled the ball between the opponent's legs and came out on the back side with the ball.  Yes, Willard.  I have NO idea why he was taking the ball down the court, what with his not so mad dribbling skillz, but he was and he did.  Go figure. 

Vision cheered the JV on to victory this evening and she looked just as perky and enthusiastic as she possibly could.  We all helped her do the motions and wave the spirit fingers from the stands and I'm sure she was thrilled with all our help.  As any 17 year-old girl would be, of course. 

I'm really surprised how few parents actually show up for the games, whether their children are cheerleaders or players.  I mean, seriously, it's your kid.  What's so important that it makes your kid expendable?  Nothing, actually, but I guess they'll find that out later when there isn't anything they can do to fix it.  Sad, that.

3)  My kids are always goofing on me because I tell them the same story over and over, but in my defense, I have five kids and I can't remember who I told.  I want to make sure everyone gets the memo.  As quickly as they'll laugh when I tell that story they've heard one hundred times, one will turn, frown, and say, "You didn't tell me that!"

So when I quipped to MrG last night on the phone, "Hangin' out with the dry cows tonight?"  Veritas had no clue. 

It seems someone missed the skinny on the dry cows.  In the evening, the cows needing to be milked don't need to be rounded up and herded to the barn, they show up voluntarily and early because they have full to bursting udders and are looking for relief.   Not so those dry cows, who have no milk and thus no reason to come to the barn as the sun is fading.  They stay out all night long.  The dry cows are the party 'til the cows don't come home bovines and a call to the sheriff could be involved in the evening. 

When I was a teenager, MaMa would poke fun at anyone who came home late by saying, "Hanging out with the dry cows?"

After she explained it to me, I pictured the dry cows out in the pasture, doing Lord knows what all, but certainly getting up to no good as they ditched their milk producing responsibilities and proceeded to pal around with that young upstart bull next fence down, until all hours!  I imagined nothing but trouble hangin' with the dry cows and, of course, that was MaMa's point.    Stay away from the dry cows.  They don't have the sense to come home at a reasonable hour. 

It occurs to me the dry cows may be like the feminists in this day and age, but it's late and I'll have to explore that meme another day.  Otherwise, I'll really be hanging out with the dry cows. 

4)  President Obama.  I hope I am so wrong about him I'm embarrassed and must apologize.  After all, I love this country.  Unfortunately, I don't think I'm wrong.   

Not Fun Times! 1.19.09 Edition

1)  Thanks Mom.  You said 24 comes on at 7 on Monday night.  I should have realized there was a problem when your niece on the west coast agreed.  It can't come on at 7 both places, now can it?  So after careful planning based on what you told me was the gospel truth,  I missed the last 10 minutes because I had to pick Vision up from the  movies.  What else did you tell me that wasn't exactly accurate?  Start at the beginning.  I'm just sayin'...

2)  In lighter news, Willard was puzzled that you gave me a bible study entitled, "Job".   He wondered if you thought I needed to get a new one?  In his defense, his interpretation was phonetically correct, although biblically illiterate.

I said, "It's Job, Willard, Job!  And it's from Gran, Willard, Gran!  She's not worried about my resume."

And he said, "The guy where God kills his wife and kids, takes all his stuff, and makes him sick?  That Job?"

:: looks worried::  "Why does Gran think you need to read about Job, er, like now?"

Just kidding.  I made up that last sentence, but admit it.  When you read that you can't think "Job", because job is stuck your head. 

3)  No more updates tonight as Veritas has been here all day having all the fun she can possibly have given the circumstances.  I gave her my Ann Coulter book to read.  What could be more fun than that?  She went home tonight as classes start tomorrow. 

More fun tomorrow plus the dry cows!

To Fun Not To Try!

I came across this link at The Weekly Standard blog for the Obama Inauguration Speech Generator and couldn't resist.  You simply type in some adjectives, nouns, etc., and it generates the speech.  There were a few glaring errors, but I think it holds up well.  This is my Obama Inauguration speech:

My fellow Americans, today is a black day. You have shown the world that "hope" is not just another word for "slam dunk", and that "change" is not only something we can believe in again, but something we can actually misunderestimate.

Today we celebrate, but let there be no mistake – America faces scream inducing and red challenges like never before. Our economy is Islamist. Americans can barely afford their mortgages, let alone have enough money left over for strategeries. Our healthcare system is most excellent. If your left foot is sick and you don't have insurance, you might as well call a scheming trial lawyer. And America's image overseas is tarnished like a pacifier diapers. But mortifying together we can right this ship, and set a course for Wasilla, AK.

Finally, I must thank my revolting family, my amazing campaign volunteers, but most of all, I want to thank Harlem Globe Trotters for making this historic occasion possible. Of course, I must also thank you, President Bush, for years of romancing the American people. Without your rabid efforts, none of this would have been possible.

All in all, I accidentally got in some pretty good lines, dontcha think?  I almost capitalized red because it's my favorite color, but then thought it would look out of place.  My bad.  Please do try it and post your results in the comments.  I'll put them up on the main page so that the entire guillotine family and avid readers can be represented for Obama's Big Day.

Willard's contribution, which reads like me trying to cheer up my boy after losing a basketball game, plus pure 15 year-old boy.  It's pretty darn good:

My fellow Americans, today is a black day. You have shown the world that "hope" is not just another word for "they", and that "change" is not only something we can believe in again, but something we can actually sodomized.

Today we celebrate, but let there be no mistake – America faces serious and awesome challenges like never before. Our economy is fast. Americans can barely afford their mortgages, let alone have enough money left over for the chess team. Our healthcare system is fat. If your weenis is sick and you don't have insurance, you might as well call a sanitation engineer. And America's image overseas is tarnished like a can bottle cap. But molesting together we can right this ship, and set a course for church.

Finally, I must thank my smart family, my dumb campaign volunteers, but most of all, I want to thank Taliban for making this historic occasion possible. Of course, I must also thank you, President Bush, for years of hustling the American people. Without your sexy efforts, none of this would have been possible.

Fun Times! 1.15.09 Edition

1) Ate lunch with Valentine and Viagra.  Val had a horrifying moment when one of the "clients" she interviewed informed her that baby daddy was currently at the same place, doing the same special forces thang as Cuzzie Will!!  Needless to say, "What is baby daddy's name?" was probably a much more harsh and hysterical question than she'd intended.  As I told Val, "You were just scared you'd have to take the kid home!"

Praise Jesus!  We aren't related to baby daddy and we had a fun lunch.  It's quite fascinating that Val and Viagra have so much seedy, work related knowledge in common.  She in social services and he in pest control, but both scheduling appointments based on the fact that The Price is Right! comes on at 10 a.m. and everyone's home for it in front of the 50" plasma screen.  They hide the weed from Val, but from Viagra, not so much.

2) Not much more in the fun news department, but Viagra relates this story for your entertainment.  He and the pumpkin were working on baseball this afternoon.  Specifically, making sure the ground balls don't get past the pumpkin.  She's 3.  Let me say that again for those who missed it the first time.  She's 3!  She was really doing a good job and Viagra reconsidered letting her play pre-T-Ball this season, at which point she'll be...4.  Barely.  So as she's all excited about it and determined to play, Viagra cautions her, "If you want to play, you can, but you're going to have to work hard." 

And the pumpkin says, "Working hard is not my style.  Slow and steady's my motto, Dad!"

Pictures from Christmas for Cuzzie Shaila

  

I did not take the pictures this Christmas, so we must rely on the pictures Vision took with her new camera.  Two words:  slim pickins! 

Every year we go to the beach at Christmas while visiting Grandma.  I am not a fan of the bundle up and go to the beach in order to freeze to death plan, but the kiddies insist.  Here is a shot of the pumpkin with cuzzies Matthew, Christian, and Bryson in the background:

This is a shot of Vision and Veritas riding to the coast in Veritas' truck.  Note that Veritas is still recovering from her viral pink eye and wearing glasses.  Hopefully they were not speeding down the highway like maniacs when this shot was taken, but it wouldn't surprise me:

 

This is a shot of Mark V (Val's boyfriend), Val, and Willard.  Valentine tells me Mark V reminds her of Willard.  This is becoming more clear the longer we know him.  I'll leave the reader to decide what that means regarding Mark V.  Did I post about Mark V?

The first time Val brought him home to meet the parents, she tried to carefully arrange it so that no one else was home.  Astonishingly, she thought all of us at one time might making him run screaming like his hair was on fire.  Can you even imagine?!?! Through a convergence of incredibly unlucky events, at least according to Valentine, the minute they walked in the back door everyone showed up, even Viagra and Veronica.  As soon as she introduced him, Viagra said, "Did you say Mark?  Mark? Val, have you ever actually gone out with anyone not named Mark?  How many Marks does this make?"

And it was on.  The kiddies started reeling off the list of Mark, Mark, Mark, Marco, which technically counts, and our new Mark was...Mark V.  Yes, we really do call him Mark V.  Except Willard, who calls him Kevin, but that's a whole nother story.

On the bright side, neither she nor we get confused and call him Eddie.  Since he has been back over many times, I guess he appreciates our warped sense of humor.  Much better, I think, to get that information out of the way early in the game.  They always get so touchy when you spring it on 'em later. 

This is another beach shot of Christian, Willard, Viagra, and Tucker playing football.  The boys loved their ping pong ball sling shot guns, by the way.  I got several glares from the adults, but every single boy ran up and gave me a huge hug and thank you Aunt Lana!!!  The most hilarious part of the gun story is the night I passed them out Viagra decided to play a little trick on his cousin Will, known on this blog as my excellent nephew Will. 

Just to make the story clear, MrG and his sister Robin are ten and twelve years older than their little sisters, so there is almost a generation between the oldest cousins and the youngest cousins.  Viagra is 23 and Will is 22.  Their ping pong sling shot cousins are 11, 10, 9, 8, and 5.  Also necessary for clarity, my excellent nephew Will is in the military, special forces.  

So Will, Viagra, and Mark V are outside watching the younger cousins go to war on the front lawn with their newly acquired weapons and as the weapons discharge Viagra starts picking up ping pong balls and putting them in his pocket.  Mark V notices this, but Will is oblivious.  As the ammo runs short, Viagra makes a back room deal with the little guys and the deal is this.  You can have ammo, but your first obligation is to shoot Will in the face.   Kid after kid is running up and shooting Will in the face while Viagra and Mark V are completely unscathed.  Will wonders aloud for approximately 15 minutes why these sweet children are murdering him with ping pong balls and never once attempting to shoot the other two men.  His crazy mad observation skilz will be the brunt of every joke for the rest of the weekend.  At this point, Mark V and Viagra are bleeding through their eyeballs trying not to laugh aloud until six year-old Courtney, the only girl cousin, gives Will the clue.  Probably outta pity.  Hilarity ensues!

Will then begins a counter-offensive by stealing Christian's gun and offers his own deal.  You can have your gun back, but only if you immediately shoot Viagra in the face.  Christian takes his gun and trots over to dutifully shoot Viagra in the face, but he's seriously remorseful about it and reluctant to pull the trigger.  Will, standing right next to Viagra at this point, urges him on by telling him they have a deal and he has to shoot Viagra!  Viagra and Christian listened to Will's explanation and then Viagra tells Christian they had the first deal and it supersedes any subsequent deal that might have been made with Will.  As Viagra and Will both told me, they both about died laughing when the logic of that statement registered in Christian's little head like a light bulb being turned on.  He grinned and immediately turned and shot Will right in the face.  No hesitation at all.  

At that point, Will stole another gun and went to war with Christian.  And every time Christian shot at Will, he hit him right in the face.  Hysterically,  Will couldn't touch the kid, even from two feet, with a fired ping pong ball.  Viagra remarked that he slept much better at night knowing Will was protecting the country.  Just kidding, he said, "Mister special forces is out there getting his ass handed to him by a nine year-old."

MrG said, "And isn't he a weapons specialist?"

When Will and Viagra recounted their war stories later that evening,  we all laughed until we couldn't see straight.

This is a picture of Uncle Wade, Willard, and MrG after an amazing meal at The Boiling Pot.  The Boiling Pot is a place where you order your seafood and they dump the entire meal, plus veggies, right on the table.  Then everyone goes at it like Neanderthals.  It's so messy they tie on a bib when you order, what with the popping off of heads and all, but the food is awesome.  At the end, they bring around the "finger bowls" to facilitate your cleanliness, but there was no way the "finger bowls" would work with that mess.  I asked Vision to snap a pic of the guys with their "finger bowls".  Notice the carnage, tastefully draped with a napkin and MrG with sea critter guts all over his sleeve.