There’s a coffee shop downtown that is seeking summer help. They have a sign posted in their door to this effect. The sign reads:

Now Hiring For Summer Jobs

Maybe it’s because I’m out of contacts and back to glasses this week, maybe I’m just not paying enough attention these days - but I read the sign as:

Now Siring For Hummer Jobs

The H and the S somehow jumped places and hilarity ensued - well, in my mind anyway. I wonder what my facial expressions are like at moments like these? I probably don’t want to really know the answer to this. There’s a grammatical term for mix-ups like these, but I can’t place it. I thought it was malapropism, but I’m not certain malapropism applies to written word or just spoken, or if malapropism is right at all.

Anyway. Again. Because it’s just that funny:

Now Siring For Hummer Jobs

Albert Hofmann, granddaddy of synthesized hallucinogenics, passed away recently. Which means one point for Mike in the death pool. It was almost too obvious. The man was 102. 102. Not sure how the rest of us beachcombers missed this in our picks.

What happens when you bring together a slew of ingredients that are relatively disgusting when they stand on their own, but are divine when combined? You have a properly crafted reuben sandwich, a favorite at The Gull Reef Club.

I’ve had reubens at many restaurants and found that there are some significant differences in construction from place to place, much of it dependent on geography. It saddens me to report that I’ve not found a place in the south that makes a reuben the way I prefer them. Good thing Mike knows how to do them up properly.

A proper reuben consists of cooked, sliced corned beef, sauerkraut, swiss cheese, thousand island dressing, butter, and -the essential key - dark, pumpernickel rye. If the bread isn’t nearly black, throw it back. Fry your sauerkraut slightly before assembling it onto the sandwich to get out some of the moisture. Butter your pumpernickel like you were making grilled cheese. Assemble the sandwich, minus the thousand island. Fry the entire sandwich until crisp and the cheese is melty. Serve with the thousand island on the side for dipping. See? Lots of almost gross ingredients come together to make the world’s most splendid sandwich.

Guess what I had for dinner?

I’m here at the Inn watching David Gregory host MSNBC’s live coverage of the Pope’s visit to the States. Gregory went to introduce his guest, Dan Gilgoff, and said instead, ‘Now we go to our guest, Bob Geldolf.”

He quickly corrected himself. I could hardly hear the correction over my peals of laughter. My sides ache.

Word is that Charlton Heston has passed away. Points to nemov, nighttimer, and Cyan in the Death Pool.

Cyan - you’re leading now. I supposed some sort of morbid congratulations are in order. All hail, the lead Angel of Death Cyan!

Ya’ar, Beachcombers. Flowing through my book sale books, I can now count Mutiny On The Whaleship Globe among the completed.

This is a non-fiction account by two survivors of a mutiny on an American whaleship in the South Pacific. Not only does the narrative include the mutiny but it also covers the subsequent life of the two survivors on tropical islands as servants/guests of some of the natives. Because the account was originally put down sometime after the incident (1824-1825), I had to reckon with some of the assumed racial superiority of the authors, which was common for that time. This wasn’t overwhelming enough to kill the story itself. It was a very compelling, and very short, read. Check it out, mateys.

Just rounded out two southern themed books (part of my library sale books).

First off was Tobacco Road by Erskine Caldwell. I wanted this book to be so much more than it was. Instead of it being a painfully/ironic/southern gothic story, it was just nothing. A whole lotta nothing. The end couldn’t come soon enough. Maybe I’ll be able to appreciate something in this book years from now that I’m just not getting at this time. But maybe not.

The second, um, book (?) with a southern theme, was not actually a book. It was Tennessee Williams’ play Cat On A Hot Tin Roof. I haven’t read a play in years and honestly didn’t think I’d like it. I was pleasantly proved wrong. This turned out to be a powerfully emotional story, a high southern drama.

The copy of Cat that I have, has both Williams’ original Third Act and director Elia Kazan’s influenced/rewritten Third Act. I prefer Williams’ original. It left much more to the imagination. It also highlighted Brick as more of a tragic fallen star, which appealed to me because Brick was the best developed and my favorite character in this play.

I know some of you beachcombers have dabbled in the theatre. Any of you work on Cat in any capacity? I’d love to hear your take.

The universe has absorbed another one - Arthur C. Clark has passed to the great beyond. It’s been a depressing month for geeks.

Score one for Cyan and Gina in the 2008 Death Pool.

While Mike is doing some hardcore home renovations, we don’t have much time to make dinner. We opted for Taco Bell tonight (ugh, I know, I know, spare me the lecture).

While there, they were playing a bizarre mix of fusion and easy listening jazz over the restaurant speakers. In the middle of the lame music lineup, the mix took an extra-bizarre turn and a klezmer song was played. Yep, that’s right - a real clarinet tootin, toe tappin, bottle dance style song. Really puts you in the mood for nachos - wouldn’t you agree, beachcombers?

Ay ay ay vey!

I’ve been watching waaaay too much Corner Gas lately. Earlier today, I found myself saying ‘holy hell’ and anyone (meaning everyone) who annoyed me was a ‘jackass’. Eeep.

Just finished a little book I picked up at the local Goodwill. In all honesty, I wasn’t thrilled with my choice but on that particular day, the book selection at Goodwill was sparse and I was really hungry just to read something. So I dropped a whole fifty-cents on Michael Crichton’s The Great Train Robbery and figured even if it sucked horribly, I wasn’t out all that much.

To my pleasant surprise, I really enjoyed this book. It is a fictionalized tale of an actual train robbery that took place in 1850’s England. If you aren’t big on historical fiction, this will not be the book for you. However, if you enjoy an interesting tale peppered with documented facts from the Victorian era, you’ll really like this one. Some of the reviews I read on the book before I started it complained that Crichton over-researched the book and inserted too much of that research into it, which for some, became a distraction. Myself, I liked that and thought it really helped set the mood for the actual story line.

The other bonus about this book is that it is littered with Victorian era slang. Dollymops, screwsmen, and reeb - were all common English at one time, apparently. Fun stuff.

I’d go on more, but my mouse batteries are dieing, we’re out of fresh batteries, and using keyboard commands are a real pain. Toodles, beachcombers.

The library had a book sale this weekend; And because the $1 hardcovers and 50¢ paperbacks were too much, Mike and I held off on going until today in order to take advantage of the bag sale. $2 for all you can fill into a grocery bag (their issue).

I got enough books to keep reading for quite sometime. Some are pulpy, others whimsical, and still others simple classics. Here’s what was in my bag, in order of how they are stacked on my desk right now:

Fools Die, Mario Puzo. I liked The Godfather so I figured I don’t have much to lose by grabbing up this one.

Mutiny on Board the Whaleship Globe : The Notorious 1824 Whaling Mutiny and Subsequent Massacre of the Marooned Ship’s Crew By South Sea Islanders, as Told By Two Survivors , William Lay and Cyrus M. Hussey. I love old books if only because their titles were so ridiculously long. This is a true history, compiled by Lay and Hussey from the actual records involving this mutiny. Should be pretty good and will hopefully satisfy my pirate/sailing adventure novel urge I get at least once a year.

Cat On A Hot Tin Roof, Tennessee Williams. A classic, right? I have no idea what this is about but I’ve heard of it. That counts for something.

Early Georgia, Volumes 26 and 27, The Society For Georgia Archaeology. Can you believe these aren’t linked on Amazon? These will probably prove to be completely worthless to me; But, you know, it said ‘early Georgia’ - it suckered me in.

The Natural, Bernard Malamud. I don’t think I’ve ever read sports fiction before. With baseball season just around the corner, this will probably get read sooner rather than later. The synopses I’ve read make it out to be a pretty good novel.

The Hunchback of Notre Dame, Victor Hugo. I was never forced to read this one over the years, so I’ll give it a go on my own. It has very, very, very small print. I already don’t like that. I won’t hold it against it if it turns out to be a good story. It better be better than that lame-ass Disney flick.

All The King’s Men (A Random House Play), Robert Penn Warren. In my excitement over finding the title to such a political classic (that I’ve thus far failed to read), I snatched this up with out opening it. Only upon coming home did I realize that this is a play adaptation of the actual novel. Meh. Guess that’ll learn me.

Tobacco Road, Erskine Caldwell. Of all the books I got, this one will be read first. I’ve been slowly making my way through southern gothic authors, but haven’t had the pleasure of making the acquaintance of Caldwell. I’ve heard nothing but good things about his writing, and in particular, this book. I’m so all over it.

The Firm, John Grisham. Pulp to be sure, but Grisham is one of those guilty pleasures. His books make for great airplane reading. Now if I could only afford to fly somewhere…

The Cardinal of the Kremlin, Tom Clancy. So I’m probably the only person in America that has never read a Clancy novel. There were tons of them there. Mike pointed out this particular one to me, to which I opened my bag and said ‘drop it in.’ I have no idea if I have purchased book 3 of an 8 book series or maybe his worst novel ever. Someday, probably not too soon, I’ll know.

Live From New York: An Uncensored History of Saturday Night Live, as Told By Its Stars, Writers and Guests, James A. Miller and Tom Shales. This one will likely end up in the bathroom. Lots of short essays and chapters. Perfect on-the-go-while-going reading. Plus, this is one Mike may actually want to read. The bathroom is a certain spot he’ll remember to pick it up.

I love book sales almost as much as I do thrift stores. Other people’s used stuff at super discounted prices, huzzah!

Someone get these guys a clock -

Just east of Lincoln, just north of Broughton - I saw a dude in a white gorilla costume carrying a skateboard. Of course a skateboard. What else would a white gorilla carry?

bucket recently started a topic at America’s Debate called Food Myths. It inspired the following -

Here’s a food myth that drives me up the wall - that ‘undercooked’ beef will give you food poisoning.

You gotta admit, the phrase ‘undercooked’ beef certainly does sound scary, and just begs for nanny-governments to step in and regulate. However, the definition of ‘undercooked’ by some standards have become ridiculous and insults the palette.

For example, the great state of South Carolina, has made it a law (.pdf) that all beef served to restaurant patrons must be cooked to 155° “for your protection.” Thank you South Carolina, but let me decide what is for my protection.

Beef cooked to 155° is nearly burnt as far as I’m concerned. Mooing, bloody beef is just fine if the beef was good stock to begin with. Worried about getting bad beef? Then don’t get beef at a place that sacrifices quantity over quality (i.e. fast food). A restaurant concerned with quality is not in the business of poisoning its customers.

And don’t get me started on raw fish…

Ahoy-hoy Death Pool Players. Mike has made us a kick ass new tracking system for the 2008 Death Pool. You can view it here: 2008 Death Pool Stats. Nice huh? Thanks Mike!

The tracking system is quite timely as well. As you can see, your Angel of Death 2007 is already on her way to retaining her title for 2008. Former Indonesian President Suharto has died. I’m good, what else can I say?

Be afraid.

Hey beachcombers - your beloved Innkeeper has received a few requests to extend the deadline for the Death Pool submissions. This is no problem at all, and in fact, better for me.

The new deadline to submit your picks is Monday January 14, 2008, 10pm eastern. That should be enough time for all of you.

The last books I read of 2007 were G.K. Chesterton’s The Napoleon of Notting Hill and Sinclair Lewis’ It Can’t Happen Here. For the end of the year, my reading took me on dystopian bent.

I liked Can’t Happen far better than Napoleon. In fact, it’s hardly fair to compare the two. Can’t Happen is one of the best books I read in 2007. Sinclair Lewis was painfully insightful at many points in this story. Sometimes I’m left wondering why I hadn’t read a particular author sooner. Such is the case with Lewis. How did I miss him? More to come certainly.

I really don’t feel like getting into a big review of either of these two books right now. I will leave you beachcombers with this quaintly naive and lovely sentiment from Chesterton in Napoleon:

Freedom of speech means practically in our modern civilization that we must only talk about unimportant things. We must not talk about religion, for that is illiberal; we must not talk about bread and cheese, for that is talking shop; we must not talk about death, for that is depressing; we must not talk about birth, for that is indelicate. It cannot last. Something must break this strange indifference, this strange dreamy egoism, this strange loneliness of millions in a crowd. Something must break it. Why should it not be you and I?

Greetings beachcombers. Greetings 2008. So long stinkyear!

Your amicable Innkeeper is host to the 2008 Death Pool here at the Gull Reef Club. You’re invited to play. Sorry I’m a bit late to start, but I am a southerner-by-choice and claim the right to take my time.

The rules are simple. Submit to me, either as a comment to this post or by email to thegullreefclubATgmail.com, 10 names of celebrities/well-known people that you think will die in 2008. The people on your list cannot currently be hospitalized, nor can they be on death row. If the person on your list can’t easily be found by a wikipedia, google, or encarta search, then that person is not famous enough to be valid.

The deadline to submit your list to me is Thursday January 10th, 2008, 9pm eastern Monday, January 14, 2008, 10pm eastern. Once I have all the entries, I will put them together in one post for everyone to read. I will post updates throughout the year as they become necessary.

The winner gets the adoration of me, the official title of Angel of Death for 2008, and maybe something else to be determined. Full disclosure: I am also playing. It’s sort of hard to rig this sort of thing.

Merry morbidity!

Addendum to rules: You can’t pick someone has already died in 2008.