Old Glory!

Laws are meant to be broken, and boy howdy, did we do one whale of a job that weekend.  Everyone that attended had to put their car keys and $50 into a “make bail” pot in case someone got arrested.  (a near certainty!)

My family has pleaded with me to not post any photos that might land most of us in the pokey, so I’ll show you what to do with 40 lbs of pork butt while hopefully keeping you mildly amused.

Here’s what 40 lbs of pork butt looks like.

That's an ass-load of butt!

Smoking this much meat takes a helluva long time, so you have to keep yourself amused while this is happening.

Takes the whole friggin' day.

Before you put it in the smoker you soak it in beer for about 10 hours.  I used a wheelbarrow and some trash bags, covered the meat in ice and let it sit.  Then you need to put on a good dry-rub.  This needs to be rubbed in and left to sit overnight.  It should like like this.

Properly dry-rubbed butts

I noticed that some of my comboddies showed up with bags of cash.  Small bills.

Small bills, no prints

We were going to play this, hopefully, only for money.

Who's the hottie?

Later, we switched to cards.  This is where things can get a little edgy, as everyone at the table cheats and is drinking. No guns are allowed at the table.

I see cards, cash, beer, friends and family....good combo!

Some of the guests hung out here before the AK47 and other assorted weapons were illegally discharged within 30 feet of the house.  Photos of this activity were prohibited by gunfire.

Chillin' amongst the villans!

I re-activated the tinnitus I developed as a budding rock star. I could no longer hear anything for the rest of the afternoon.  I could however still smell.  I checked the butts in the smoker.

This is better than any restaurants pork...guarantee ya that!

I baste these suckers with a vinegar based mop every hour on the hour.  After about 9 hours they came out of the smoker looking like this.

Hog heaven!

I turned these into a couple of trays of this.

Ready to stain your shirt!

Yep.  That’s the real deal.  Served up with home-made BBQ sauce on big fat f#$%ing rolls with cole slaw on top.  This took me about 20 beers to make.  I had a few pounds left over and I made Brunswick Stew with it.  I’m a true Redneck Gourmet.

Hope you all had a fifth on the 4th!

Cheers,

Jim

Bar Capital Corner of Atlanta

In no particular order, here are my favorite artists.  Click on their names to visit their web-sites, and double click on the pictures posted here for a bigger, better look.  Double click on the new image and an even bigger one without the side bars will appear.  This is really the only way to take this tour.  Double click.  Wait a second.  Double click again.

Karen Cohen. She is an artiste. I wanted to burn my own paint brushes after seeing her work.  It’s not often that you see something totally original. Here’s your chance.

Art you can look at for hours

She has an original voice on canvas and she’s really passionate about her work.  “My art represents events and times in my life,” she said with a great big smile.

She'll hate this picture, but check out the painting behind her. Go ahead. Double click.

You absolutely must check out her web site and see this stuff.  She is the real deal and if you’re fortunate enough to be able to hang a piece of her art in your living room, then consider yourself blessed. Truly unique.  She and her art blew me away.

Send his stuff straight to the gallery

Athlone Clarke. Don’t let the grim face fool you.  Athlone is one of the most spiritual humans I’ve ever had the pleasure to shake hands with.  He is arguably one of Folk Arts’ best artists.  I am priviledged enough to have an original piece of his in my living room. Serious, seriously, serious art.

Elaine is human art!

Elaine Rader attacked me with her smile. I don’t usually do the jewelry thing, but she invited me to take a look and it was time well spent.  I didn’t realize until I was writing this post that there was a ribbon hanging behind her head, and I don’t think it’s for wrapping presents.  She gets my vote as Artist That Looks Most Like Her Booth. What a pleasure.

Hide your kids dolls from her!

Tiffany Yownbey. Next time you want a cute paper mache doll holding a handgun…Tiffany’s your girl.    “What’s the story behind this?” I asked as I pointed to a piece with a tiny, tiny dolls head and a giant distorted paper mache body, “I found the head and had to put it on something,” she laughed.  I tried everything but a chain hooked up to a truck to get a good photo of her, but nothing doing.  “All artists hide behind their art don’t they?”  Yep.  Especially when it’s as good and original as this.  Do hide your toys if you invite her over.

Time for one of these. Harp Lager...a standard bearer lager and sister of Guiness Stout

I portook a pint of Harp and continued my journey.  I ignore every booth that involved pets and their cute names, pottery with poultry images and digitally altered photographs.  Real artists use film…unless you’re me, and you’re not.

Look out boys...this girl can blow!

Deborah Martin. Didjeridoo Queen of the World.  She was one of my favorite artists.  This self-proclaimed hippy told me of a recent journey to Australia that involved a hitch-hiker, a bon-fire and some acid. You need a didjeridoo in your house.  Admit you’ve always wanted one.  Buy it from Deborah.  Great people still exist.  I loved my time with her.

Peace out! Deborah being Deborah.

I wasn’t quite ready for the acid trip story, but I was damn glad she told it to me.  Made me immediately get another…

Yummy for my Tummy!

Lou is a serial exhibitor.  I saw her at Inman Park Festival with the Fulton County Master Gardeners.  I saw her again with the Tree People.  Lou likes plants and she knows how to keep them alive.  Look her up.  She’s easy to find.   Today she’s with…

Lou loves green stuff

Trees Atlanta. They’re the ones that plant trees all over the city.  They need volunteers.  You’re obviously not busy, so stop reading this and help them plant trees.

You're kidding, right?

There were two ass-hats that posted “No Photos” signs in their booths.  One of them claimed, “Intellectual Property.”  He made suns out of metal.  Not intellectual, not original…who cares.  I’m taking pictures anyway.  It’s a festival.  Lighten up.

What's that in your hand?

Paul Pearman. Rhymes with crazy mutha.  We hit it off immediately.  Within 30 seconds of arriving at his booth, Paul was pouring me a gigantic plastic cup of Sangria. Paul makes some of the coolest hand made belt buckles on this planet. He had a great story.  “A few years back at a show, this 12 foot Norwegian woman came into my booth.  A few days later she flew me and my wife out to L.A. to do a trunk show…on f#$%ing Rodeo Drive.”

Need some cool? I've got extra!

Damn near every celebrity in CA now owns one of Paul’s belt buckles.  Couldn’t possibly have happened to a cooler guy.  He can drink my beer any day.  Check out his web-site and wear a real piece of art…not some crap you bought at Mark Shale’s.

Look what I did with my Ga Tech Degree!

Got a little extra time on your hands?  Then by all means you need to meet Emily Ayers. I’m not usually a fan of quilts or the whole Batik thing, but her stuff is totally original art that you need to have hanging in your home.  “When you sew through your thumbs, it’s probably time to take a break for a while.”  She said it’s happened several times.  I want a quilt with some blood on it.

Nine finger Emily

This is her current favorite piece.  It’s called Robin.  Next time you are thinking about buying some meaningless wall mounting from Kirkland’s, give Emily a call instead.  She’s got great stuff, reasonably priced and it comes with a story….or two….or three…Emily likes to talk. Smiles Emily.  Emily desperately needs help with her web-site, so if you know anyone, maybe you can work a trade.

Another one? Who's counting?

That’s it.  That’s my tour of Summerfest, and for what it’s worth, I met all but one of these artists for the first time at the festival.  None of them gave me a dime to be on here.

Local artists are some of the most important members of our community.  Support them.  Make the effort.  Make a friend.  I enjoyed each and every one of them, and these were the best the festival had to offer.  Click on any of their names and get a better look at their stuff, double click a few times on the pics to get a better look at my stuff.

I’m a local artist too.  Maybe you need some photos or a real wryter.  I use the “day in the life” and “papparazzi” approach.  No posing. Real photos of real people. No grinning allowed. Feel free to support me if you need what I can do.

Write.  Take photos.  Repeat.

I have to take a leak.

Cheers,

Jim

Do they still party like it's 1979?

Yesterday, I was on my way to Summerfest–an arts festival in Atlanta, when I got stuck in some very nasty traffic. I sat in my car for about 10 minutes without moving an inch. I heard some faint music…rhythmic, minimal instruments, lots of drums and tambourines. I looked to my left and there they were. Right out in the street for everyone to see. Krishna’s. And they were having a party. I chose to opt out of traffic and crash the Krishna-fest.

I found a back-street and parked my car. I was greeted by my first Krishna of the day. Just what I expected. A man wearing a dress, with one of those funny pony-tails and some clay on his face.

Mayapura Dhama Das--my first Krishna of the day, and my tour guide

His name was Mayapura Dhama Das. He joined the Krishna’s at the height of their party days back in ’76. He’s some kind of priest.  He offered his service as my tour guide. Here’s what I didn’t expect. He was a down to earth, kind of normal, really happy guy. Just look at him!

Turns out this wasn’t just a regular party I was crashing. This was a three day Festival of India. He invited me to check it out and allowed me unfettered access to take photos of anything. Cool. At first glance, it looked like any other festival, only this one had a decidedly India theme.

A Festival with booths....go figure!

There was face painting.  The Krishna’s call this “tilaka” and they mark all the sacred parts of the body.

Spiritual Face Painting

There were children.

Krishna kiddies

There was even a princess or two.  Krishna’s called her a “Mataji.”

Mataji

This was beginning to look awfully normal to me.  Where’s all the weird stuff?  How come nobody’s trying to recruit me and get me to sell my stuff and shun my family?  That’s when Mayapura Dhama Das took me inside the Krishna Temple.  Okay, here it comes.  I remove my shoes, bow to who knows what when I went in the door, and I was allowed to witness a very special ceremony.

Alter inside the Krishna

His Grace Jayapataka Maha Raj, was leading a ceremony where a couple was formally receiving their Krishna names.  His Grace is considered a “Great King” or “Swami.”

Couple receiving the Krishna names

Okay, not too weird.  I’ve been to Baptisms and I’ve been to a briss or two.  So far, this just seems religious.  No group sex, no hooka smoking and people were definitely not being forced to do anything.  I’m baffled.  This is not what I expected from the Krishna’s.

The parade was a big part of the day, as it is at most festivals worth their salt.  This one had a float, sort of.

Krisha Parade Float

Okay, it’s really more of a chariot than a float and they only had one.  But theirs has diety’s of God, and his wife and a eerily realistic, life-size figure of Swami Prabhupada…the founder of Krishna, or Krsna.

His Divine Grace...Bhaktivedanta Swami Prabhupada

This is no motorized float.  The Krishna pull this float with ropes.  In fact, pulling the rope is a very big deal.  I’ll try to get this right.  They believe that if you pull the rope, then you will not have to experience birth again, except a spiritual birth.  I guess this is the Christian equivalent of salvation.  You better believe I pulled that rope!

Pull that rope!

They chanted, sang, played percussion instruments and danced while the chariot made its’ way through the already traffic plagued streets of Atlanta.

Dancing in the Streets!

All of this made Mayapura Dhama Das very happy.  He seemed to know everyone there, and there were several hundred people there.  “This is a big family reunion,” he said, “These are all my family, my friends.”

Openly happy all day long!

Hmmmm.  I don’t have 500 friends.

Throughout my couple of hour visit Mayapura Dhama Das did his best to enlighten me about his purpose and the purpose of Krishna.  He told me that all are servant and only by blessing can one attain spiritual advancement.  He said that Krishna is about the “entire science of self-realization.”  I’ve got pages of notes that I took, but I’m not here to evangalize for the Krishnas.  If you want to know more about them you can go to www.krsna.com.

This was an unexpected experience.  I spent a few hours with people that were happy, friendly and openly welcoming.  They didn’t try to recruit me and they no longer hang out in airports.  In fact, most of what they practice is preached and happening in Christian Church’s all over the world.  No sex outside of marriage, they’re vegetarians, and they practice yoga.

With the exception of the clothes, these people were alot like me.

Cheers,

Jim

Hotness Obama!

…and a couple of unwanted side-effects, most notably the recent article in Newsroom Magazine that ranked the Top 25 Party Colleges and included recreational waterboarding at keggers as a judging criteria.

“We were friggin’ board with just getting drunk every night,” said Barry Frisko President of Sigma Aumygod fraternity, “all that vomit…it sucks.   Then we saw President Obamas memo on waterboarding and exactly how to do it so that you wouldn’t really die from it, you’d just be scared shitless and think you were going to die and you’d tell anybody anything…what a great twist for beer-truth-or-dare.   It’s hilarious!”

Step by step...nobody gets hurt for real!

On to other things…

Time to get Joe Biden a new hat! Better make it out of aluminum foil as he seems to give out classified information faster than waterboarded detainees.  Gotta have some kind of barriers to keep the Russians from figuring out everything he’s ever been told.  Just this week he divulged the exact location of the secret bunker where the VP himself would be taken in case of a National emergency.  Al Queda staff sent Joe a $100 gift basket from Edible Arrangements.  Wanna know some State Secrets…just ask.  Just ask Joe.  It’s really that simple.  The man has no filters.

Testing 1,2...Testing...Is this thing on? Ah, goody!

“The first mainstream African-American who is articulate and bright and clean and a nice-looking guy.”  This is how Joe described his running mate in 2007.  He definitely needs one of these.

Joe's new hat.

Then of course there’s Nancy Pelosi, now fighting for her political life against the CIA. That’s right, the CIA.  The same agency that can detect a fart in the shower from 500 miles away and tell you what you’ve had to eat over the last three days.  She only accused them of lying to the Congress of the United States about the latest college craze….no biggie…WTF???   Republicans smell blood.

Nancy's not nervous.

Nancy may be a liar, but she misses her sister.

Separated at birth??

To round things out, Harry Reid–incompetent arrogant traitor and genuine threat to our democracy as we know it, made some stupid gaffes of his own…not even worth the trouble of mentioning.

Harry saluting President Obama

Here’s the punch-line to all of this week’s news.  A new CNN poll…of all the places… shows that we’re starting to like…

Mr. Popular!

I’m exhausted.    This took me

Cheers,

Jim

Read this sign carefully

It’s always good to know that next time you need a flat tire, you’ve got a choice.  I called the number on the sign and asked the owner what he meant.  He hung up on me.

Here’s another great idea in case you need a faster way to get off of your roof.

That's a house. That's its' roof. Yes, that's a sliding board.

I knocked on the front door and met the owner of the house…Buddy.  He either couldn’t pronounce or didn’t want me to use his last name.  I asked him if he sold pool supplies.  (Logical explanation, right?)  “Naw” he said.  “Why do you have a sliding board on the roof?”  I asked.  “We like to get real drunk and use it for rasslin.’” (read: “wrestling”)

Click here for highly disturbing demonstration of roof rasslin’.  Warning:  strong language.

Ya’ll come back now, y’hear?

Cheers,

Jim

This ain't no velvet Elvis

I was pub crawling for beer with the so-hot-she-causes-cars-to-crash Mrs. Abeerforbreakfast over the weekend and, I swear I’m telling the truth, the topic of conversation in not one, but two bars was:  “What song would you listen to while committing a recreational murder.”  I shit thee not.

A dancing server at the Vortex,  “anything with a techno beat.  Musical porno,” he said.  He danced and made stabbing motions to the beat of the techno song that played in the background.  Midly disturbing, highly entertaining.  Went well with my delicious Tex melt.

Burgers, Beers & Babes Inside

A little later at the Porter Pub, I met Sean Scharbach.

Sean

A Quentin-esque character, who without hesitation said, “That’s easy” as if he’d been asked this before.  “Dear God by XTC,” he said with unabashed enthusiasm.  You can listen to it here, and I encourage you to do so.

The wildly hot, having-a-great-hair-day-Mrs. Abeerforbreakfast suggested a change of location and conversation subject matter.  That’s when we witnessed this.

This is why I love Atlanta.

I needed

Cheers,

Jim