In Texas, Euphemism for I Downed a Six-Pack
So, when was the last time you got together with the gals and guys for a day of shooting the bejeezus out of a bunch of innocent, harmless, defenseless animals? Well Bubba and Bubbette, you'd be lying through your teeth if you denied that half the fun, and half the point, is to swig and chug your way through the day. So, "I shot him in the heart and face but only had one beer and that's why I didn't let the law talk to me 'till way, way after detox cleansed my system………" Well, sweet'ums, you believe it if you still believe in the tooth fairy and the goodness of George Bush.
Twisted Tales From the Son of the U.S.'s Most Twisted Mother
Don't know where to start, end, or make sense of the last week and a half, said Art, so he told us he wasn't even going to try. At best he said, he was just going to muddle through his thoughts, letting them scatter this way and that, and we could attempt to re-arrange them in our own minds if we wanted to. He did say that his mind was racing as fast as Cheney's bird shot raced towards his "friend's" face and heart. Now, Art told us, "teetotaler" Bush might want us to believe the hooey about why Cheney kept out the law's reach for several days, but up here we're not fools; couldn't survive if we were.
Hooey, Art said, probably disgusts most of you since you know what he and the rest of us are thinking, but with kids around, we watch our language, plus, it's too easy and simple-minded to gratuitously use obscenities and expletives.
Twisted Mother = Deranged Son
Terry said that Barbara Bush makes Joan Crawford at her worst seem like Mother Theresa at her best. Cripes, did she raise a twisted son! Enabling a President-in-Fact in his lies about not drinking and still shooting his friend in the face and heart. Art said he didn't care if the last name was Armstrong, it was still wrong.
Hooey #2, Art and Terry told us, this inanity about the Ports. "I didn't know about it!" Give us a break Bush, we're not as stupid as you are. Oh, and his other brain (remember, Bush doesn't read/think: it's done for him by the Devil's spawn: (Cheney/Rumsfeld/Gonzáles/Miers/Rice) Rumsfeld spouting: I didn't know (about the Ports); I only just found out! Deep, deep hooey.
Hooey #3, Sending Dumb and Dumber, AKA as Karen Hughes/WalMart Polyester Pant-suited and Condoleezza Condosleeza Rice, flying over the Middle East on their broomsticks, sans proper head-covering attire and flicking their cold, clammy hands all over the place, oblivious of the cultural revulsion some Middle Eastern men have towards shaking hands with women. Talk about winning the hearts and minds…….. I, Art said, would rather be gelded than be forced to shake Rice's torturing hands, as well as those of the enormous and threateningly pant-suited Hughes. You'd have to be pretty wary, even if your cultural beliefs didn't turn you off from shaking a strange woman's hands.
Hooey #4: Never met this guy, Jack Abramoff, no matter how many dozens of pictures that he and the media have proving otherwise. Give me a break; no matter how dumb you think Dubya is, he never forgot the face that matched a dollar given to his campaigns! (That's the poor white trash in the Bush family veins: boy, they love those ill-gotten bucks.)
Art continued, with his Hooey #5, explaining that now he, Bush, really was at odds with reason and more at home with insanity, the insanity brought down upon the entire world by lady Macbush's deranged son. The mosque bombing day before yesterday most likely will mean the beginning of a very much more ugly time in Iraq, worse than anything thought possible; but that's the key, isn't it, Terry said: thought. Nobody in Deranged Dubya's White House gave What Next another thought. When Dubya played Anna Nicole Smith in Drag on that battleship, prancing around à la Anna Nicole, squealing Mission Accomplished the dummy really did "think" the mission was accomplished. 59,054,087 of you unleashed him on the world not once, but twice. Hope you're happy.
On March 18, 2003, two days before her son, the feckless sissy girlie-man launched the invasion of Iraq, Barbara Bush appeared on Good Morning America. Our nation's "First Mother" asked Diane Sawyer, "Why should we hear about body bags and death and how many? . . . Oh, I mean, it's not relevant. So why should I waste my beautiful mind on something like that." Well, Barbara, it may not be relevant, but here on the farm and here on the ranch, we have sows, we have mares, we have ewes, and we have bitches. And the relevance is, the son of a ?
Hungry Teenagers: Break In The Tension
Divine sound, the dinner gong. It means the beginning of dinner, but also a respite in the sometimes truly disturbing conversations we hold. Tonight, Beatrix and Jeremy were mostly in charge of preparing dinner, and enough of the teenagers volunteered to help that things will run smoothly for our wonderful British chefs.
Beatrix will not permit foie gras in the house, and none of us would dream of serving it; ever. When we're in the mood for something similar, Beatrix will make us Chicken Liver Pâté (from free-range chickens of our own.) She served it in individual little lidded Duck's Head Terrines which each hold 3 oz. of her marvelous pâté. We are slowly building up a nice collection of essential serving dishes from the French company Pillivuyt, and these minute terrines are their item #400540 BX, and if you entertain (which you do or you wouldn't be reading these Chronicles,) we highly recommend their wares. The lids help keep the pâté chilled until each guest is served, and yes, you guessed correctly if you thought Beatrix would serve the dish with the best rye bread in the world, which we import from a German bakery in Mexico City. Beatrix and Jeremy had heard of a good sparkling wine we hadn't tried before, so they brought some bottles of Roederer Estate Anderson Valley Brut which we all agreed was perfect with the pâté.
Beatrix and Jeremy make excellent shellfish bisques, and tonight the bisque was flawless, served simply, with some snipped chives and paired with a bone-dry Spanish sherry, Bodegas Dios Baco Fino. Again, we used our new set of little covered soup bowls from Pillivuyt, their 2 cup capacity Lion's Head Tureens (Item # 400 150 BX). Max helped Jeremy with the large grills. This help is useful because we have a bank of three Viking grills on the porch so dinner for 40 - 50 can be done all at once. Together, they grilled some exquisite pork chops, filled dozens of our little wire baskets, and also grilled some Chayote squash, elephant garlic, eggplant and pearl onions. For this course, Jeremy poured us a Foxen 2003 Santa Maria Valley Tinaquaic Vineyard Chardonnay
Beatrix served us small dollops of mango/key lime sorbet to prepare out palates for the meat course after the fish. Small idiosyncrasies of ours, but we love our habits.
We have to be thankful for Beatrix and Jeremy's wine cellar; they always bring over such lovely wines (and stories of their horse training that we always learn so much from.) Tonight, Jeremy prepared some spicy roasts with perfect carrots and onions. But to really make this dinner spectacular, he and Beatrix poured us a fantastic 2003 Corbières from the Domaines Barons de Rothschild Château d'Aussières. This wine was strong, bracing, black, with earthy flavors and bright cherry and plum notes. Now you see why we have so many courses for dinner: it gives us the joy of tasting many different wines.
Dessert was relatively simple, Charlotte's Hazelnut Madeleines served with a perfect 1986 Portuguese Delaforce Porto Colheita. Jeremy suggested we emphasize the year: the 1965 vintage runs around $115.00 and here on the farm we seldom indulge to that extent.
Winding Down
We wanted to have our after-dinner coffee back in the great room with the teenagers to check on how their day had gone. They were anxious to visit with us also since today was the day when a couple of vets fan out and take care of the various vaccination needs of all our horses. Time-consuming for us, but back-breaking for the vets.
Summary:
Hooey. It's an innocuous word that can stand in for whatever word you think best describes the situation. Up here in the hills, we know it's all your gonna find between Dubya's ears; it's what his minions bathe in and live in; it's what his minions eat morning, noon and night; it's what Dubya feeds the press, and it's what his policies, all of them, consist of. Whew! We don't have that much hooey up here, and here it's animals as far as the eye can see; guess it's all on Pennsylvania Avenue.
