Kit-tays and the Corporal

Cpl. Wolves came by yesterday to visit his animals. And his mother, too, I guess, but probably mostly his animals. And, yeah, his animals were glad to see him:

Looks like he was glad to see them, too.

I guess we haven't had a kit-tays post in a while

Mrs. Wolves has been a little slack about the kit-tays photos lately. Fortunately, she is getting past her funk and seems to be getting back into the game. Like this:

When Cpl. Wolves was forced to return the kit-tays to their rightful home, he also brought the cat tree he go them. This is the first time both of the sisters, Murder and Mayhem, have ever been spotted on the tree at the same time. Cute, or what?

Yeah, we did a little Easter celebration at Chez Wolves

Not much. A little churching, dinner at Cpl. Wolves. And Easter baskets. One for Mrs. Wolves:

One for Cpl. Wolves and Married Into Wolves:

Apparently, the Easter Bunny feels that I did not deserve my own basket. But here are the baskets for those who did deserve them, together with our Easter lilly, which I will plant in the front bed when the time comes:

Sorry for not noting this in a more time-appropriate fashion, but things have been busy and I am catching up on the blog. Started a new gig on Monday, too, so more on that. In any event, happy belated Easter.

Back on The Farm, people

Finally got a nice weekend -- not cold,  not snowing, not raining. What else to do but pack up Jeb the Wonder Dog and head for The Farm?

He does like to ride. And stick his nose out:

So, when I got to The Farm, there were new beds, and even the old beds were newly filled with soil:

What else could I do? I put in tapes of carrot seeds, as well as loose seeds to finish the parts I didn't have enough tape for:

I put in radishes and spinach, then watered the crap out of those beds:

On the south side, the far bed got the carrots, but I also put in peas in the next two beds:

And I watered them, too. Plus, I put up anti-dog fences:

Down by the old asparagus bed, which was being prepped for onions, there was some serious tilling:

I think it might have killed the tiller. Still, we got the bed prepped:

Farmer Tom hoed it:

And Farmer Tom's daughter planted onions:

Looks good:

The two potato beds had plenty of soil, but Farmer Tom and I had a disagreement on planting strategy. He wanted to go with mounds, while I wanted to go with planting directions and go for trenches. 

The difference is not inconsequential. Potatoes can grow quite close to the surface. If planted in mounds, it is difficult to put dirt over them to ensure continued growth. Farmer Tom went with mounds. The seedlings are planted in the mounds.

I chose to go with conventional farming wisdom and planted the seedlings in trenches. That way, the mound in the middle, in which nothing is planted, allows me to shove dirt onto the potatoes as necessary during the growing process. Farmer Tom planted two rows in mounds, while I planted two rows in trenches, with a mound of available soil in between. 

We'll see how that turns out. I expect to have a better yield, but I guess we'll see.

Sometimes, you just have to wonder how people justify things to themselves

Such as, for instance, voting for Hillary Clinton:

Let me ask a question the mainstream media is always happy to ask about Republicans, but never asks about its preferred candidates on the Left: What does it say about you as a person if you besmirch yourself by voting for Grandma Benghazi?
Here’s a woman who lies so often that her name has practically become synonymous with deception. Unlike her husband, who was such an artful liar that people wanted to believe him when he wasn’t telling the truth, Hillary is ham-fisted about it. She tells obvious lies that everyone from the media to her enemies, to her friends know are lies right from the beginning.
How do you vote for a woman so dishonest that she claims her daughter was jogging around the World Trade Center on 911 or said with a straight face that she landed under sniper fire in Bosnia? When she lies about having her own email server and about putting our national security at risk by having huge numbers of classified emails sent to it, how do you respect yourself when she gets caught lying about it over and over again?

Look, I'm not suggesting that Donald Trump is an attractive alternative. Being forced to choose between an  immature slimeball and a felon, though, is not exactly how most folks want to go. Even her supporters in the media are forced to claim that there should be a higher bar to indicting her simply because she is running for president.  I guess that's the only way to claim she shouldn't be indicted when the FBI wants to bring her in for questioning.

Seriously, it is beyond me how anyone this close to a felony indictment could also be this close to a major party's presidential nomination. Please try to imagine what the media would be doing if a potential Republican nominee - any potential Republican nominee -- were also under criminal investigation. Think the media would let them remain a viable candidate? Yeah, me neither.

I think we have proof that the NFL owners do not actually understand the game that their teams play

Among other things that happened at the NFL owners' meetings in Boca Raton, Fla. -- yeah, it's good to be rich, so you don't have to meet in Newark or someplace -- the owners voted to move the touchback line from the 20-yard line to the 25.  What this means is that, when a kickoff goes out of the endzone or a kick returner opts not to return a kickoff that he catches in the endzone, the ball will go to the 25-yard line instead of the 20. In theory, this will discourage kickoff returns, a goal of the league as returns lead to injuries.

They also lead to really, really, really exciting plays, which I guess the NFL wants to do away with:

The second rule that passed will essentially eliminate the need for teams to return kickoffs. The league has moved the touchback from the 20-yard line to the 25-yard line. Making kickoff returns safer is something the league has been focused on for a while, and this is perhaps the biggest change.

Think again, bitches. A few years ago, the NFL moved the kickoff spot from the 30-yard line to the 35, reasoning that more kicks into the endzone would result in more touchbacks. As it turned out, that was true, but it didn't stop returners from taking a kickoff out of the endzone, gambling that the returner could get past the 20 and improve his team's field position. So, the NFL moves the touchback line to the 25. That affects the calculus, right? Surely most returners would be instructed to just take a knee so the team could get the ball at the 25, which is not bad. Right?

Wrong. Guess what happens next. Kickers will be instructed to drop the ball inside the 10, and teams with good kickoff coverage units will gamble that their unit can bring that returner down before he gets to the 25. Actual result: more kickoff returns, not fewer. Teams were willing to kick the ball out of the endzone if the receiving team was going to get the ball at the 20, as that allowed the kicking team to avoid the risk of a long return. A return to the 25, though, is the equivalent of a decent return and totally acceptable to the receiving team -- and equally unacceptable to the kicking team, which is why kickers will be told to force a return rather than a touchback.

How could owners not see this? Either quit stupid rules changes that won't actually affect whether teams return kicks, or do away with kickoffs. The NFL doesn't want to do away with kickoffs because they can result in good returns, which are among the most exciting plays in the game. Because of the high-velocity collisions involved in most kickoffs, though, the NFL wants to appear to be attempting to avoid injuries. If they choose to do so by eliminating the things that make the game interesting, though -- and kickoffs and returns are simply one example -- what do they gain?

I have limits on how much degradation I am willing to endure

I am working on a shitty project. The rate is fabulous, but the cap is hard at 40 hours a week, and even with a fabulous rate, that don't cover the bill. No internet access at all, higher commuting costs because of the 5-day requirement, etc. etc. Naturally, I am looking for something better.

What do I keep running into? Other projects with a 40-hour cap and much lower rates. I find an overtime project, go to fill out the conflicts form, and what do I see at the top of the form? "Temporary legal assistant." For the uninitiated, a legal assistant doesn't even have to have a high-school diploma. I am not slamming on legal assistants -- they are vital, and many are truly indispensable -- but I am not one. Ever. I replied to the agency that sent me that form, "I am not a legal assistant." I don't want to be a dick, but I don't mind being a dick. Fuck 'em.

Beef-heavy food porn for ya

Actually, this is the meal I fixed Sunday night to celebrate the 30th anniversary of my marriage to my blushing bride, Mrs. Wolves, who has never to my knowledge actually blushed. In any even, blushing aside, I fixed a ribeye roast, which could also be viewed as a prime rib. You start with a big chunk of ribeye. My recipe calls for a boneless 10-pound chunk of ribeye. Mine was 5 pounds:

You really only need two other ingredients: seasonings, and mustard. I used my house seasoning, mae with a 1/2 cup of salt and a 1/4 cup each of garlic powder, onion powder and pepper. I actually use less pepper than that, but knock yourself out. As for the mustard, I went with horseradish mustard, but others use dijon, honey mustard or even ballpark. Suit yourself:

Anyway, season the meat:

Slather it with the mustard of your choice:

Roast that sumbitch at 500 degrees F for one hour. That time is for a 10-pound roast, For a smaller roast, such as mine of 5 pounds, dial that back to about 45 minutes. Don't want to overdo it. After the cook time is done, turn the over off and let the roast sit in there for another 90 minutes. No peeking -- you want the temperature to stay high until it gradually declines. Then out comes the meat (that's what she said):

Having prepared the main event, I also made bread:

I fixed some asparagus, corn on the cob and hollandaise sauce to round out the menu:

Pretty damn good if you asked me. And yes, I got flowers:

Anyway, bon appetit.

Not fillin' and tillin', just chillin'

I stopped by Farmer Tom's Friday on the way home from work, and we worked out how our farming weekend would proceed. Since the forecast for Sunday was rain turning to snow, and the the forecast for Saturday was just overcast and temperatures in the 50s, we figured we would do our farming on Saturday, fill a couple beds with some more dirt, till the beds and get some seeds in. Sounded like a plan.

Alas, Sunday arrived on Saturday. It was raining from morning on, and at about noon it started to look like snow was mixed with the rain. By 1 pm, maybe 1:30, it was all snow. And it snowed all day. Mind you, it wasn't very cold -- maybe mid 30s -- but it was snowing pretty good. Nothing on the roads, but dusting on the grass. At about 1 pm, snow is coming down at The Farm:

At home, it was beginning to stick on organic surfaces:

Like grass:

Yeah, grass:

It's fricking March:

M id-March:

Anyway, all of our plans to put crops in and till beds fell by the wayside. Can't till mud, right?

This freaks me out

I feel like I should get one, just because:



Don't you?

Hat tip to The Blaze

This about covers it

I don't think I need to comment on this:




Do I?

Maybe she should just shut up

Hat tip to the Washington Free Beacon, via Townhall, for this little bundle of joy:



Does she know anything? Short answer: no. And what she knows, she lies about.

Apparently India can't decide whether to shit or get off the pot when it comes to aircraft purchases

India has a long history of buying Russian (or Soviet) aircraft. In recent years, though, they have been all over the map. India's military has Russian (or Soviet), French, American, British, Brazilian, Indian, Canadian and Swiss aircraft, ranging from trainers to airborne tankers to transports to fighters.

In recent years, the country has been looking for bids for its  Medium Multi-role Combat Aircraft, and effort to upgrade (through replacement) some of India's aging aircraft, primarily MiG-21s. That effort has been abandoned, but India has been negotiating with France to buy 36 Rafale fighters. Those talks apparently are not going well:

The Indian air force will not be receiving new Rafale fighter jets anytime soon. Despite a unique intergovernmental agreement signed by India and France in January committing to conclude a deal for 36 fully fitted Rafale jets, negotiations remain stuck on the value of the order. This is a stunning situation, bordering on the absurd. Price was precisely what bedeviled the possibility of an agreement for 126 fighters in India’s notoriously long but finally aborted Medium Multirole Combat Aircraft (M-MRCA) contest.

It would appear that India and France agreed that India would buy 36 of France's fifth-generation Rafale fighters (if you believe France -- they likely are no better than 4.5-generation, like the FA-18 Super Hornet) but failed to agree on the price. India now wants to pay a lot less than France wants to charge. It might be a commentary on how much India wants to spend on its military, but it also might be a commentary on how close other countries are to having truly fifth-generation fighters for sale. It looks a lot like the U.S. might be the only nation currently offering such a product, which bodes well for the future of the F-35. We'll see.

I guess there's pretty much nothing Hillary won't lie about

It doesn't matter how demonstrably wrong she is, the woman lies reflexively. She says she used a private server so she wouldn't have to carry multiple devices, but she clearly carried multiple devices. Fine, whatever, I wouldn't want to admit that I used a private server instead of a government email address so that I could avoid Freedom of Information Act requests either. I mean, seriously, if your personal history was as fucked up as Hillary's, and your political history so full of corruption, wouldn't you want to avoid public scrutiny?

So I don't blame her for that. I think she's a felon for exposing classified information to the world on her unsecured private server, but at least I understand her (entirely selfish) reasons for doing it. I would lie, too, if I thought it might get me out of criminal liability.

And I get that she lied about her husband's bimbos so that her husband could get elected. And stay elected. Maybe she convinced herself that he really wasn't fucking those women (and the ones we never heard about). One of those women was once a legal client of mine, and I have no doubt he was fucking her blind. But I get why Hillary would lie about that.

At some point, though, lies become stupid. Hillary, if she had not reached that point prior to this, has finally reached that point, saying this:

Hillary Clinton declared U.S. involvement in deposing Libya strongman Muammar Gadhafi didn't cost any American lives — failing to mention the 2012 terrorist attack in Benghazi that killed U.S. Ambassador Chris Stevens and three others.

Seriously? Is that ignorant piece of shit trying to claim that her poorly thought-out coup in Libya was a bloodless (for us) good idea? Libya is a failed state because of what we did, and is a breeding ground -- and training ground -- for terrorists because of what we did.

And no Americans died? Sweet baby Jesus. Does the stupid shit believe that? Apparently, yes:

Clinton didn't, however, mention the Sept. 11, 2012, attack on the U.S. diplomatic outpost in Benghazi that killed Stevens, information officer Sean Smith, and former Navy SEALS Tyrone Woods and Glen Doherty — questions about which have dogged Clinton throughout her 2016 presidential campaign and that have led to an investigation of the private email server she used while secretary of state.

It seems to me that we now have a choice for president between someone who will lie about anything, and someone who is a felon and will lie about anything. Great choices.

California gets what it deserves, if you ask me

I'm not sure the rest of the country would mind if California did what Jerry Brown, famously known as Governor Moonbeam, apparently jokingly thinks the state should do:

California Gov. Jerry Brown joked on Monday that if Republican frontrunner Donald J. Trump wins the 2016 election, the state would have to erect a wall — not on its border with Mexico, but its borders with other states.
“If Trump were ever elected, we’d have to build a wall around California to defend ourselves from the rest of this country,” he said at a dinner held in Sacramento by the California Labor Federation and State Building and Construction Trades Council of California, according to the Sacramento Bee. “By the way that is a joke,” he added. “We don’t like walls, we like bridges.”

I don't know if Jerry likes bridges or walls, but I do know that people who actually make money (who don't work in Hollywood) are leaving the state:

Brown was touting the state’s economic progress, and the influx of young, talented tech workers — though the state has experienced net out-migration for decades, especially of middle-class families.

He also apparently failed to mention that many of those "young, talented tech workers" are from overseas and are replacing young, talented tech workers born in this country who make more money.

But I am totes cool with California building a wall. Jerry called it a joke, but I think it might be the best idea he ever had since dating Linda Ronstadt when she was in her prime. Which was pretty good:

Just sayin'.

OK, if we have Andorra, where the hell is San Marino?

There are, apparently, six European micro-states: Andorra, Malta, Monaco, San Marino, Vatican City and Lichtenstein. Malta and Andorra have come by, with Andorra coming by only two days after a post lamenting that Lichtenstein continues to ignore Eff You. It seems clear that the post imploring Lichtenstein to visit, which mention Andorra's recalcitrance, was responsible for the visit by someone in Andorra.

Well, I am now calling upon Monaco, San Marino, Vatican City and Lichtenstein to pony up, damn it. Where the hell you been? I'm waiting.

Ho. Lee. Fuck. Andorra!

Ask and ye shall receive, y'all! Mere days after mentioning that Andorra has never visited Eff You, Andorra visits Eff You! I would say words fail me, but that is demonstrably not true.

So what is Andorra? Well, it is mostly small:

Andorra . . . officially the Principality of Andorra . . . also called the Principality of the Valleys of Andorra . . . is a sovereign landlocked microstate in Southwestern Europe, located in the eastern Pyrenees mountains and bordered by Spain and France. Created under a charter in A.D. 988, the present Principality was formed in A.D. 1278. It is known as a principality as it is a monarchy headed by two Co-Princes – the Spanish/Roman Catholic Bishop of Urgell and the President of France.
Andorra is the sixth-smallest nation in Europe, having an area of 468 km2 (181 sq mi) and a population of approximately 85,000. Its capital Andorra la Vella is the highest capital city in Europe, at an elevation of 1,023 metres (3,356 ft) above sea level. The official language is Catalan, although Spanish, Portuguese, and French are also commonly spoken.
Andorra's tourism services an estimated 10.2 million visitors annually. It is not a member of the European Union, but the euro is the de facto currency. It has been a member of the United Nations since 1993. In 2013, the people of Andorra had the highest life expectancy in the world at 81 years, according to The Lancet.

Andorra is jammed between France and Spain, like so:

I'll tell you what freaked me out -- there are five European nations smaller than Andorra, which is fucking tiny. Apparently tourism and financial services -- Andorra is a tax haven -- comprise almost the entirety of the Andorran economy. Skiing and other winter sports are a bid draw there. The country is located in the Pyrenees mountains, and so its terrain is mountainous. For the Cowboys fans in the audience, that means "really fucking hilly." It makes for good skiing. It also means there are no airports for fixed-wing aircraft in the country, only heliports. Think about it.

It's mountainous and old and not heavily populated, giving you scenes like this:

And this:

So thank you for the prompt response, Andorra, and welcome to Eff You Nation. Everybody extend a big Eff You welcome to Andorra and ask Monaco and Lichtenstein what the fuck is keeping them?

The deer are getting brazen

Proof positive that people need to hunt deer more. I had heard about this stuff happening down in Montgomery County where everyone is far too, um, sensitive to hunt deer, but this is the first time I actually saw deer gang-feeding in a house's front yard without fear.

But leaving The Farm on Saturday, this is what I saw:

And this:

Hard to see, I know, but there were at least a dozen deer grazing in the yard of the house across the street from Farmer Tom's place. Clearly, these guys need to be shot at more often. Let's put a little fear into them.

I got Sunday morning food porn, bitches!

OK, so it's Monday night. But I fixed this stuff for breakfast on Sunday and it was freaking good. So pay attention.

First, you will need some eggs, some link sausage and some crescent rolls. Get the big ones:

Brown the sausage links:

Scramble the eggs. Add cheese if you like (clearly, I did):

Lay out your crescent rolls on a baking sheet, thusly:

We will pause for a moment for those readers who are still thinking about what "thusly" means. Everybody caught up? OK. Put some of the scrambled eggs and one of the link sausages on a crescent roll:

Roll that bitch up:

Keep doing that until you are out of eggs, sausages or crescent rolls, whichever comes first:

Bake those suckers for 18-20 minutes at 350 degrees F. (no metric shit here):

They gonna be good, y'all:

So eat 'em.

If you don't have Lichtenstein, what do you have?

I mean, really. I got a visitor from Luxembourg this morning -- my second, not my first -- and I realized, yeah, I'm killing it in Europe, I rule from Portugal to Finland to Greece,  Sure, no Kosovo or Montenegro yet, and Monaco shuns me -- and it still hurts too much to talk about how Andorra, San Marino and Vatican City refuse to come by -- but Lichtenstein cuts me to the bone. Why, oh why do they spurn me, ignore me, refuse to even acknowledge Eff You Nation? I'd rather they spit on me and at least let me know that Eff You exists than give me this deafening silent treatment. So how about it, Lichtenstein? Bring it.

Yes, burning things again

I stayed up way too late and drank way too much beer as Jeb the Wonder Dog and I sat out back and stared into the seductive flames of the fire pit. Well, I did, Jeb the Wonder Dog drank no beer and went off chasing deer or something, Found him out front at about 3 am, but that's how these things go. He always goes galivanting somewhere and then waits for me in the front yard.

So yeah, it looks like the last fire, but it isn't. Fire is like that:

Fire, of course, is also like this:

And this:

And let's not forget this:

Saturday night in the sticks, baby.