WKRLEM: Shark week continues

To pee or not to pee....that is the question

 

I take three water pills every day so I have to piss all the time. It can get very annoying as you are always looking for a bathroom. You can't just have Paulie Gatto pull the side of the expressway to let loose all the time.

It is the worst at the beach. The bathroom is like miles away man. You got to walk so far you forget why you are doing it until the piss runs down your leg. So you have to go in the ocean. But that sucks because sometimes the water is cold and you are washing off your sunscreen and it just makes everything sucky. So I wait until we come back from the beach before I take my pills. Which makes me get up all night to pee. 

If it's not one thing it's another.

At least I don't have Ramona Singer's problem. Ramona of the Real Housewives of New York is facing a shitty situation. It seems she took a dump on the floor of her bathroom on the last class trip. Or at least some poop fell on the floor. This is not the first time with her since she had done the same thing last season. Of course her friend Sonja gleefully laughed about it and they showed it on camera. It was pretty humiliating for Ramona. She must have a problem.

And she can't go in the ocean to shit.

It's Shark Week!

 

Some people don't get the memo. This dude Marcelo Rocha Santos was drunk on the beach and he had to pee. So like most of us he walked into the ocean. He and his buddy were standing in waist deep water when a shark came up and started eating him. It got his hand  and some of his leg before his buddy and the lifeguard could beat the shark off. This happened in Brazil in an area where they have a lot of shark attacks. It was murky water and the guy was all greasy and salty and the shark wanted a treat. You would think the poor sap would realize it was Shark Week.

What to do when you have a bunny in your backyard.

I need another cup to face the day

I always start the day with a couple of cups of coffee. Not lattes. Not half foam Americana's. Just plain joe. Black. In a big cup.

We often argued when we were first married about coffee and how to make it. I had a old fashioned Faberware percolator that I had for about twenty years. It  had  a plug and you had to take the guts out to clean. It didn't have paper filters or any of that bullshit. Just hot strong coffee. It was the best coffee pot I ever had.

It finally gave up the ghost and we proceeded to buy a new one. Unfortunately it was a disaster. You see China had bought the company and everything was being produced over there. Which means it works for about a year and then the heating element goes.  So for the past six years or so we would buy a new one and throw out the old one. It was a disaster.

Finally someone gave us a brand new Mister Coffee.  I hadn't had one since the seventies. I hate the coffee it makes. But I had to use it because I was tired of the complaints of the weak coffee a dying Faberware pot would make. I have to make sure I have the fucking filters and all that shit. The only solace I have is that I use high octane coffee and make it incredibly strong. I used to hate Mr. Coffee because that is what we always had in the accounting offices I used to work in. They would always make bland insipid coffee and it was like drinking dishwater. I guess I just have to get over it and take it like you have to do with so many things as you age and lose agency over your life.

I was introduced to coffee by my grandma when I was six years old. When I would go over her house she would give me a shot of espresso before I went around the corner to Sacred Hearts grammar school. So I am used to really strong black coffee since I was a kid.

I hate Star Bucks and all of those fancy bullshit coffees. I would always get my coffee and buttered roll from the little aluminon carts that the have in front of subway stops and the LIRR. It was always hot and strong. I would always make friends with the guys running the carts giving a cheery hello and a good word as I am happy in the mornings. In the last couple of decades these guys always seem to be Muslims. In fact I vividly remember one of them asking me what train I took to get to the Flatbush Avenue stop on the LIRR. I told him the G train and he said that was good. It was around 1997 or 98 and later that month a couple of mooks got arrested for planning to bomb the Flatbush Avenue station of the IRT. See it always pays off to be nice even if you don't mean it.

So excuse me while I fire up the pot. I need some more caffeine to get through the day.

Following Instructions

 
From Ace of Spades.

WKRLEM: Yoga Pants?

Scenes from a marriage!

O

Under DeBlasio NYC has become a shit show

This is what these animals do when you don’t keep your boot on their neck.

WKRLEM: Dolly ....we will always love you!

Trooper York's Word of the Day

 inflation

NOUN

1. the action of inflating something or the condition of being inflated.

   "the inflation of a balloon" · 

   [more]

   synonyms:

   exaggeration · overemphasis · magnification · amplification · overplaying · 
2.  Dolly Parton

There are no standards left in our military

 

Did you see the latest surrender on the part of our military under the senile kid toucher Joe Biden? It's seems that the naval academy has a semi talented cornerback named Cameron Kinley who was signed by the Tampa Bay Bucs. Not talented enough to be drafted he begged the military to be able to defer his service commitment so he could try out for the team. Noted cuck Senator Little Marco Rubio started a ruckus to get the Navy to allow him to break the commitment he made when he signed up for the Academy. At first the Navy refused but the noted racists Secretary of Defense Austin approved it. So he will try out and not report to his ship.

Now it was ok for Roger Staubach and David Robinson to serve before they went into their leagues. Both of whom were far better athletes than this mook. Along with the teaching of critical race theory and the embrace of transgenderism in the ranks this is another canary in the coal mine. When China attacks we will be helpless. Have no doubt China is going to attack. Sooner rather than later. 

It is sick out there and it is getting sicker.

Our military and our police forces will not protect us.

The Broken Scarlet Sky

I walked into Henry Cimoli's health club down in the waterfront. It was full of gleaming chrome and complicated exercise machines populated by people in color coordinated work out gear. Henry was supervising a frizzy haired woman in a too tight leopard leotard along with one of the dead eyed trainers he employed to cater to his new clientele. 

"You doing great Izzy. Just one more rep." "It's too hard." 'Now I know you can do it. I can already see the improvement. Anyone can see the definition in your arms. Just one more." She pushed up the bar as she huffed and puffed like a horse on the last leg of a mile and quarter at Churchill Downs. She slowly pushed it up half way. There wasn't any weight on the bar at all so it didn't make a clang after she let go and it dropped down. More like a tinkle than a clang. "It's too hard." "Good job. Allison is going to take you to the next machine."

Henry strolled over to me looking like Hercules who had been left in the dryer too long and had shrunk down ten sizes. He was all muscle and a yard tall.

"Spenser." "Henry. I bet you never heard that before." "What's that?" "It's too hard. I don't think you ever had that problem." "Funny guy. No wonder you have a mug like Carlton Fisk's old mitt. Everybody just wants to wail on it.  Waddaya want?" "Is Hawk around?" "Yeah he is where he always is when he comes in. The boxing room."

Henry used to be a trainer. In fact he had trained me for a while. When he went upscale and threw out most of the mugs from the old days he kept a room for old times sake. A heavy bag. A speed bag. A couple of mats and a jump rope. When I walked in Hawk was working the heavy bag. His bald head was covered in a sheen as he put combinations and shook the bag from side to side. He hit it for a solid two minutes until a timer dinged and he stopped. He looked over at me.

"Hey whitey. What are you doing," "Racial invective. So woke of you. I wanted to talk to you for a moment when you get a chance." "Ok last round."

Hawk reset the timer and started to wail away on the bag. Two of the young trainers walked by and sneaked a glance at Hawk. They were young nubile hotties in skin tight leotards that Henry hired for the financial types who came in to pretend to exercise. Hawk smiled to himself as he finished with a three punch combination that made the bag sway like it was hit by a train. The timer dinged and he stopped and took off the training gloves.

Hawk took a towel and wiped his face and then his sweat soaked head which was a bald as a egg. Or as bald as a strippers snatch if you want to use a more appropriate metaphor. He was a large man who moved like a cat. You often came across a big guy. Or a fast guy. But you seldom come across a big fast guy. That is what made Hawk dangerous. Well one of the things that made him dangerous. There were a whole lot of them.

"So what's up?" "Nothing much. Say are you still dating that professor at MIT?" "Who Stacey? Well I wouldn't exactly call it dating. More like fucking. Occasionally. Why?" "I need to ask her  a few guest ions. Can you set it up?" "What do I get out of it?" "My eternal gratitude." "That ain't enough. I don't work cheap." "Dinner at the Ritz?" "Fair enough. I will call her. Bring Susan. I don't think she would appreciate it if you were the only one to show up." "I was planning too so don't worry about it." "I will let you know." "Thanks."

I turned to leave and Hawk went on to the speed bag. He made it sing. Now I just needed to get his girlfriend to do the same and give me an idea about what goes on at MIT. It was a start.

 

Sleep cycles

I recently started using an app on my iPhone called Sleep Cycle.

It's an alarm clock; it's supposed to wake you at the optimum part of your sleep cycle.  When you set a conventional alarm clock for 5:30, it's going to wake you at 5:30, and you could be half-awake, deep in REM, or somewhere in between.  It's the app developers' theory that if you're forcibly awakened during the wrong part of this cycle, it makes you feel like crap for the rest of the morning.

So you set the alarm on the app and lay the phone down on the bed with you.  Using its accelerometer, the iPhone detects and records your movements (you don't roll over during REM) and it charts your sleep level from this.  If you set the time for 5:30, it will wake you any time between 5 and 5:30, when it thinks you're at the optimum sleep level to wake.

When you wake up, it rates the quality of your sleep.  What I've found is:  During week days, my sleep is horrible -- the rating is something like 45%.  On weekends, it's better -- something like 85%.

My question for commenters:  Does this stuff work, or is it new-age argle-bargle?  It seems to help for me, but it could be placebo effect.

And:  Does anyone else use this app?  What's your sleep quality rating?