Saturday, August 31, 2013


Do not shoplift the pooty, Torn Slatterns and Nugget Ranchers
The hookers in Times Square are now offering a Miley Cyrus special; for $500, they’ll go from an innocent Hanna Montana to a skanky butt-grinding twerker.
Fox cancelled Kris Jenner’s show “Kris.” This exactly the kind of morale boost our nation needs after reeling from the humiliation of Miley Cyrus’s VMA butt-seizure.
Tough times for the Kardashians. Khloe’s husband, Lamar Odom, finally emerges after a reported three day drug binge, Kris Jenner’s talk show, “Kris” cancelled by Fox. Things are so tense, Bruce Jenner’s face could crack again.

Since you asked: 
Now, I will not perjure myself and say I made the best burger ever last night. What I am saying is that I made the best burger I have ever made last night, and, lucky you, here are my secrets.
Remember my burger motto? Treat a hamburger with the tender and unqualified love of a special-needs steak.
Rule 1: Buy ground chuck or sirloin no less than 15-20% fat. Don’t worry, the fat melts off.
Rule 2: Form the patties so the diameter is exactly the same as the bun. They will grill down to the perfect size, a little bit smaller than the bun.
Rule 3: Buy good buns.
Rule 4: Indent the burger on top and then season with salt, pepper, garlic powder and then float a few hits of Worcestershire sauce on top.
Rule 5: Put the patties in the freezer for 30 minutes. Remove right before grilling.
Rule 6: Sear both sides on the hottest part of the grill for two minutes a side. Then turn 90 degrees to the less, but still hot part of the grill. Flipping just three more times, at ten minutes total put on Havarti cheese. One more minute. Grilling time 10 to 11 minutes. Not 12.
Rule 7: Get grill marks on the underside of the buns.
Rule 8: Old school toppings. Thinly sliced tomatoes, even thinner sliced onions, butter lettuce. Spread on goop: mix mayo, ketchup, Worcestershire sauce, a little horseradish sauce, spread on both undersides of the buns.

Rule 9: Pour a frosty beer in a mug.
Rule 10: If you ever, ever take the spatula and squeeze down on the burger to flatten it, you must take your big plastic wire grill scraper and hit yourself in the crotch with it five times as hard as you can.
Some of my friends – primarily the ones who do not have dogs – consider us, Virg, AC and me, dog nuts.
We miss trips if we can’t find a dog-sitter. We love Wally like he is a member of the family. In fact, he is a member of the family. Yes, I post too many pictures of Wally on Facebook.
We are not dog nuts. Not that we aren’t eccentric, fanatic and a little crazy about our dogs. We are. It is just that I discovered a whole higher level of insane dog people.
Breeders and dog show people. Good holy high poop-hell, these people are nuts.
Picture Parker Posey’s character, Meg Swan, in “Best in Show” screaming at the hotel staff to find her dog’s toy Busy-Bee, and then wrench her up three more notches.
We visited a 60-ish woman who showed and bred Wheaten Terriers in the Santa Barbara area. Her home was that of a horder of Wheaten Terrier trinkets. Another Wheaten Terrier breeder wanted us to pay the standard fee of $2,000, but we couldn’t, A, pick out the puppy, or, B, name it.
Wrigley’s dad was a big-time show dog named Tucker from Broyhill. When I found out he was in a show at the Del Mar Polo fields, I took Wrigley to see him. They didn’t really hit it off. But the woman who owned Tucker? Crazier than an outhouse rat. They owned a giant Motorhome and employed a trainer and two groomers.
When I saw a cute white lab on a leash I went to pet him and the woman started screaming like I was killing her with an ax;
“Are you an effing idiot? I just had him groomed, you a-hole.”