Michael Kindt's Blog, page 49

I feel obligated on social media to let you all know what I...

I feel obligated on social media to let you all know what I look like periodically. See you in 4 or 6 months or Friday night, depending on how drunk I get. But, yeah. Hello. June 6, bitches.

We have now reached the point where the majority of the country doesn’t want to vote for the two choices we have.

If ever it was third party time, it’s now.

It’ll never happen, though, I don’t think. We’re too weak and will just justify and deny. Besides, the Walking Dead is on (appropriately).

I predict low turnout and a Trump win. It all comes down to who’s hated the least, and at least Trump can make us laugh. 

But whatever.

drgnfckr:amy schumer isnt funny

drgnfckr:

amy schumer isnt funny

My son terrorized me with this photo today, insisting it was a...

My son terrorized me with this photo today, insisting it was a real tat. All blown up on the computer I can see that it is not, but on the little screen of my phone? Not so much.

“Oh my fucking God,” I thought. “He’s finally all squirrely on drugs. I worried about this shit since before he was even born!”

I almost jumped in the truck and went to Portland to collect his ass. “We’ll find a good doctor,” I’d say to him as we drove back home. “You will be unconscious for the whole procedure. Millions of people live full lives as amputees.”

He eventually admitted it was Sharpie.

Whew!

Apparently, him and his band, Fire Nuns, recorded a local Portland tv show today which will air on Father’s Day.

Ok. I can live with that, but you stay away from hooch and slatterns, boy!

Here’s my dog Daisy passed out after an all night...

Here’s my dog Daisy passed out after an all night bachelorette party. When she comes to, we are going to have a very serious talk, young lady.

Muhammad Ali had two very unique moves.

One was the “rope-a-dope” and the other had a name too but I don’t recall it and if I don’t know something, I don’t go running to the internet because, ultimately, I don’t care. 

The second move whose name I can’t recall was where he would hug his opponent. Only, he wouldn’t just hug them, he would take all his weight off his feet and hug them, forcing them to support his 200 plus pounds. Imagine wrapping your arms around someone and lifting your feet off the ground. That’s what Ali did, but he wasn’t obvious about it. His boxing shoes were still lightly on the canvas. Now, obviously, the ref would break up any clenching, but it always took a few seconds. Ali would be reluctant to let go, biding his time, finally letting go right before he would get in trouble.

Over and over and over and over he would do this during a fight. Supporting 200 plus pounds for 5 or 8 seconds may not be a big deal, but doing it over and over again, coupled with all the other exertion, will wear you down to a little gasping nub.

The rope-a-dope was where Ali, who had very long arms, would put his gloves up around his head and his arms along his torso, his elbows clear down past his midsection. He would just lay against the ropes and let his opponent wail on him. It looked like he was getting his ass kicked, but actually his opponent was doing very little damage.

The damage was actually to the opponent, who was wearing himself out even more. Then, in the later rounds, Ali would just THWACK knock him the fuck out: “sting like a bee”.

Additionally, when Ali was dancing and hopping about (“floating like a butterfly”), he was pretty much unhittable. At his peak, the only way to hit Ali was if Ali let you (see rope-a-dope).

He was amazing and a poet and a rebel and absolutely the greatest. I recommend watching some of his fights, if possible for you.

Today, boxing is pretty much dead, what with MMA and pay-per-view and questionable judging, but there was a time. Yes, there was a time…

My personal favorite Buzzcocks tune. I wrote many stories...

My personal favorite Buzzcocks tune. I wrote many stories which seem like lies to this song. I apologize. It’s a harmony in my head……What can I do?

BUZZCOCKS - HARMONY IN MY HEAD

Give it up to the English for perfecting snotty….

I am having a Buzzcocks moment. Forgive me or fuck you, which...

I am having a Buzzcocks moment. Forgive me or fuck you, which ever works.

Buzzcocks - Ever fallen in love?

I am losing interest in bingo.

I’m discovering is very hard to pay attention to my squares for so goddamn long. It has begun reminding me of school, where you stare at this mind-numbingly boring piece of paper or book and you wish, nay, pray that God would, please, for the love of all that is holy, kill me fucking now.

So what if I can win 30 bucks? Why is all bingo 4 hours long?

The only thing I wanna do for four hours is sleep.

Back in school, they told me I had adhd. Personally, I think that is bullshit, like oppositional defiant disorder. Look, if your kids won’t fit into the round hole they’re supposed to, at least don’t define them as sick and drug them into obedience. It’s the least you could do.

The last time I went to bingo, I fell asleep and drooled all over my card. When somebody yelled “BINGO!” I woke up and realized I was in the exact same situation as school.

So I left.

I just made French dressing from scratch.

It has that certain indefinable je ne sais quoi quality which you don’t get from a bottle at the grocery store. Hell, it may even have joie de vivre, I don’t know.

I am quite the Francophile, actually. There’s something you probably didn’t know about me. Mike the Francophile. Also, in the last 5 or 8 years I have actually almost sorta taught myself how to read French. If I have my dictionnaire handy, I can get through a paragraph in, like, 15 minutes. Sure, it took me a whole year to read a Moliere play, but I fucking did it.

Here is a quote by Moliere that I’ve always enjoyed (translated into English, in case you didn’t notice): “Writing is like prostitution. First you do it for love, then for a few close friends, then finally for money.”

I’m a writer and I’m still waiting on the money part.

But why am I talking about this? This is a post about food.

I also made bread soup, which is very efficient. Instead of dipping your bread into the soup, you cook it right in the soup. Elimate the middleman, I say. It also helps if you cover the bread in cheese before you add it. Covering anything in cheese always helps. One time a girl I loved dumped me and I was heart-broken, but as soon as I covered the whole thing in cheese, I was fine.

Anyway, I’m going to drink these two bottles of Beaujolais-Villages.

A votre sante!