2009 was an incredible year for songs. No doubt about it. Even some of the last minute yearly additions were able to sweep the early year competitors off of their feet. In 2009 there was a surprise around every corner with the quality of songs written. I’m not sure there could have been a better ending to the decade. Check out our Top 20 Songs below!

1. Matt Pond PA- “Starting”
2. Wooden Birds- “False Alarm”
3. Grizzly Bear- “Two Weeks”
4. The Drums-”Let’s Go Surfing”
5. The Spinto Band- “Jackhammer”
6. Sloan-”Take it Upon Yourself”
7. Vampire Weekend-”Cousins”
8. Ryan Adams-”Go Ahead and Rain”
9. Julian Casablancas- “11th Dimension”
10. Yeah Yeah Yeahs-”Zero”
11. James Husband- “A Grave in the Gravel”
12. Alvin Band- “Temple Pressure”
13. Darwin Deez- “Constellations”
14. Surfer Blood- “Swim”
15. Bishop Allen- “Dimmer”
16. Jupiter One- “Flaming Arrow”
17. Phoenix- “1901″
18. Pains of Being Pure at Heart- “Young Adult Friction”
19. Japandroids- “The Boys Are Leaving Town”
20. Julian Plenti- “Games for Days”

Jason Statham is not a man, nor is he a human being. He transcends the categorization of mere mortal, with the ability to shape worlds and break hearts with his fists.

"Statham"

This former footballer/actor/super-lover has a mythos that spans beyond human cognition, on the level of time travel, black holes and European carry-alls. A few brave souls exchanged their lives for the ability to comprehend that which is Statham, and selections from the sagely annal, Variety Magazine, are deciphered — with the help of a Stathamian sociologist simply known as “Arran” — from an otherworldly language of stick figures engaging in violence and strong sexual content:

Excerpts from Book XII:

Statham only has two emotions: relaxed and massacre. When Statham is in the mood for sex, many wonder if he is relaxed or ready for massacre. While Statham clearly is never nervous before coitus, he will tear that ass up something chronic. It’s not a literal massacre, but it’s close.

His tearing up of ass is like him imagining himself brutally beating up a bad guy within an inch of their life — but with his penis. Ultimately, Statham is a tender lover, but you may not walk right for at least a year. This is why Statham is unable to keep a lover for more than a day.

Statham, about to "tear that ass up."

Excerpts from Book XXIV:

Statham’s testosterone-powered seed overwhelm the ovaries so much that their reproductive systems hibernate to recover. It’s what gynecologists have dubbed the “Statham Effect.” It’s also why Statham doesn’t have known offspring, for no Earthly woman has the reproductive organs strong enough to handle the onslaught of Statham’s seed, let alone allow one to fertilize an egg without exploding.

In the unlikely event that a woman’s egg was fertilized with Statham’s sperm, she wouldn’t be able to carry a Statham child to term; the fetus would punch its way out of the womb within a month. This has not deterred many women from trying, though. Unfortunately, the result is always the same: the baby punches its way out, utters “Let’s get CRANKED,” and then proceeds to try and have sex with the midwife. Fortunately, Statham himself has always been there to stop this by killing the baby with a single karate kick to the sternum.

Statham, winding up to kick-kill another heir to the Statham throne.

When the baby attempts to sex the midwife, it kills her with its powerful thighs and the translated cries of “I’d like to offer you one: permanently disabled!” Statham, seeing the threat that the baby poses to his throne of ruler of Fuck City, kills the baby, yells at the dying corpse, “Fuck your mother! I let boss know you shit in Superman’s stomach. Dumb ass!” and flees the scene.

Excerpts from Book XXVIII:

The women that attempt to have sex with Statham are not bright, nor know how to navigate the internet to read the detailed reports of Statham’s seed shutting down their reproductive systems. This is how Statham likes it.

However, with celebrity-obsessed television show Entertainment Tonight — due to an extraordinary and unexpected piece of journalism — linking the trail of dead babies and midwives to Statham, he decides to relocate to a place where the women are gorgeous and don’t know how to use the internet and television: Croatia.

While Statham hatches a plan to eliminate the threat of trashy entertainment television like Entertainment Tonight, he spends his time manipulating his seed to not create life. He tests it by tearing that ass up of every Croatian women he deems “fuckable within an inch of their life.” His plan almost works.

The world, of course, is somehow unaware that Statham is actually immortal – that Statham is everliving. Statham still decides to keep his eternal status a secret just to fuck with everyone, as due to his extreme intelligence he regards anyone with an IQ under 364 as “a dopey cunt.”

Statham, applauding a retrospective of his carnal exploits.

Excerpts from Book XXX:

As another ripping gag, he decides to fuck Italy. Not all the women in Italy: the actual country.

The fucking of Italy plunges the country underwater — a brilliant maneuver as the genetic makeup of Italian women are the strongest to give life to a Statham that could withstand the abuse that the elder Statham can give.

What Statham didn’t know was that the future mother of his child, Lady GaGa, was of Italian and Martian descent. (Anthropologists are undecided on GaGa’s Italian heritage.) Upon meeting GaGa at a party in Fuck City, he was intrigued by her brazen fashion and extraterrestrial mannerism, wanting immediately to mount her like a Leonardo da Vinci painting in the Louvre Museum.

Lady GaGa, mother to Statham's seven sons.

As he sawed into her like a jackhammer on pavement, his seed was in for the fight of its life, warring with GaGa’s eggs for hours upon end until they burst through with their tiny fists and feet. The division of cells, creating life, were fought with similar vigor, fighting tooth and nail to give life to the growing Stathams in GaGa’s womb — equipped for carrying strong warriors… and other things…

Excerpts from Book XXXVII:

As Statham stared down the remains of the evil clone of Gabriel Yulaw, a bigger threat loomed on the horizon.

There were seven children in their beginning stages of life, each representing the very threat to Statham’s throne of King Shit of Fuck Mountain of Fuck City, and each would have to come out with guns-a-blazing from the very moment of their human lives — which they would.

As cited in Book XXXI, Passages 24-31:

Statham’s seed is especially notable in the field of biology, because in the incredibly rare case when a woman (such as Lady GaGa) has a womb strong enough to carry a miniature Statham to full term, it actually develops a pair of Glock 9mm pistols during the gestation period – one in each hand. The child is also born with the preternatural ability to wield said firearms with such skill that it makes Lee Harvey Oswald look like a mere patsy. (Indeed, legend has it that the Kennedy assassination was actually carried out by a spawn of Statham lost in the space-time continuum — another natural ability of junior Stathams being the bending of said continuum to their whims — but that is another tale entirely, referenced in Statham 17:29.)

On the predestined day that GaGa was ordained to give birth to Statham’s children, she flew to the remains of Italy and had a ceremonial water birth. The seven Stathams jump-kicked their way out of their restrictive womb, shouting “Don’t pop a blood vessel, you little penis!” to their birth mother, scattering around the world by swimming.

Lady GaGa, in the beginning stages of birthing the children of previous mate Kermit the Frog.

This did not please Statham, who until then was unaware of the survival of the children to term because of GaGa’s lead-clad womb and inexpressive Poker Face. He sensed a disturbance that was brought about the children’s births, and he knew that he had to bring them to their end. But he would need help, for even he could not kill seven Statham’s at once. He turned to the one man who could not feel pain — remembering the wise words of one scholarly man: “pain don’t hurt.”

He dug up the remains of Patrick “Dalton” Swayze.

Excerpts from Book XXXIX:

Statham rejuvenated Swayze with the magical words “Get up, you daft cocksucker!”, causing the corpse of Swayze to reanimate just to chastise Statham over the fact that the phrase “cocksucker” is merely “two nouns combined to elicit a response.” Statham knew that he had found the only being completely fucking hardcore enough to team up with.

After being informed of the situation with the Seven Sons of Statham, Swayze opined “It’ll get worse before it gets better.” Statham, humbled (as much as he could possibly be) by the only man to ever star in a movie more awesome than one of his own, had to agree.

And thus the greatest, toughest, mostest awesomest duo in recorded human history (narrowly edging out Hall and Oates) was formed with a single goal: seek and destroy the Seven Sons.

I am the mother to Cosmo, a 4-year old shihtzu. My dog requires a bath every 10 to 14 DAYS. Otherwise, the white parts of his paws start to resemble an old pair of UGG boots dipped in mud and then sun-dried, and he secretes the scent of a homeless person. If I were to stretch the time between his baths and let him walk around au naturel, we would all get evicted from our building in no time.

The best part comes AFTER the bath. When in the tub, Cosmo relinquishes his power and hands over authority to the person pouring water all over his body. He stands motionless, startled, with his eyes W-I-D-E open and mouth shut tight. He endures all that rubbing and scrubbing without uttering a single cuss word despite the fact that we give him enough reasons to call us every name in the book.

Then comes the towel… The challenge is to get as much moisture out of his coat as possible before Cosmo torpedoes out of the bathroom. When he’s out, he’s gone! With crazy eyes, he gallops across the house back and forth, non-stop, for about 3 days straight, pacing and barking at himself, his tongue hanging out and drops of water splashing all over the walls, floors, and ceiling. Suddenly, he stops for a moment to catch his breath, after which he takes off all over again and slaloms between the legs of the dining table and its chairs. If you find yourself in his path, you best run for your life. Nothing stops Cosmo when he’s in DRYER MODE.

Inevitably, the spectacle ends and Cosmo finds his way to me. Putting on his cutest face, wagging his tail, waving his eyelashes at me, he asks,  “What’s for dinner, mama?”

“Dog food for you, you little mischievous bundle of love you” “Roasted Asparagus Wrapped In Pancetta for me and daddy.”

In my effort to break the cycle of cushioning my midsection during the holiday season, I’m breaking the bank in search of ideas for flavorful yet light meals. Starvation and deprivation are two words that longer belong in my dictionary. They should never be an option for you either. Eat whatever you want, just be smart about it, and love yourself no matter what!

ROASTED ASPARAGUS WRAPPED IN PANCETTA served with a side of Mâche with Avocado Salad with Strawberry Dressing makes a beautiful and delightful dinner for two, and most importantly leaves room for dessert.

To start, preheat the oven to 400°. Snap the ends of the asparagus spears off and drizzle them gently with olive oil before seasoning with black pepper. You don’t need salt because of what’s coming up next: wrap a paper-thin slice of pancetta (or pastrami) around each spear and lay it flat on a baking sheet. Place the pan in the oven for about 12-15 minutes until the asparagus is cooked, but still has a little bite to it.

In the meantime, prepare your salad as you would with the Mustard Dressing. Except this time, instead of Dijon mustard, add a handful of chopped fresh strawberries and whip the dressing in a blender or Magic Bullet, if you have one. Then dress your greens and avocado gently, drop a few chunks of strawberry around for extra blush, and serve everything with a toasted slice of baguette.

The salty and crunchy bites of the Asparagus contrast, thus emphasizing the delicate leaves and flavor of the cow grass dipped in strawberry juice, making this an exquisite and sophisticated meal .

Who even needs a dessert after that?

From their stocking stuffer idea, Slim & Slender (EP):

Listen to more at their Myspace page, here.

When I think of Delaware, I think of a beautifully manicured college campus in the northeast somewhere, complete with ivy-coated brick buildings, pretentious coffee shops and an easy going, all be it progressive, student population.  For all I know, the entire state is like a sprawling, commonwealth version of Williams.

A ridiculous day dream I know, but the endearing charm of The First State’s own Spinto Band, who come to Garfield Artworks this Saturday along with Generationals and Pepi Ginsberg, has me recalling the most romantic days of my undergraduate experience. With Their latest release Slim and Slender, a four song EP out this past October, the Spintos continue their staggeringly consistent streak of three flexible indie pop releases over the past three years.  On Slim and Slender, the group practically radiates the amber aura of a magic hour bon fire with three kegs to kick.

Jackhammer stumbles through the door like a nubile young co-ed looking to hand a freshly sharpened bouquet of no.2 pencils over to his first crush of the semester. “Something says she wants you,” lead singer Nick Krill insists as the sunny, but frayed, guitars splash down, “she hangs on every word.”  The track is nostalgic but up beat, pulling on those ripe heartstrings that some how avoided callousing over years of disappointment.

And that’s where the charm of the Spinto Band lies : reminding us that once upon a time we were all dumb, unseasoned romantic messes, excitedly searching for the next great saga of our life.  Even Keep Them Alive, a song which I think is about masterminding the perfect murder like one masterminds a game of hide and seek, skips and slaps like the most playful version of ourselves we forget we possess.

Even if you aren’t quite ready for that level of self examination, the music is damn fun and catchy as well. If you do happen to make your way up to Garfield Saturday night, try not to get caught up in memory of broken trysts from semesters past.

The Spinto Band – Jackhammer

The Spinto Band – Keep Them Alive

The Spinto Band is certainly one of our favorite bands around here! The group just released the new video for “Jackhammer” off of the Slim and Slender EP (Park the Van), this week. The Spintos always have a knack for making creative and beautiful looking videos and this one is no different. The overall vibe of the video reminds us a bit of one that would be made for Nice and Nicely Done but more advanced. This is one of the most brilliant videos we’ve seen in quite sometime (but maybe that’s because The Spinto Band themselves are so brilliant!). Also be sure to check out the remainder of tour dates for the band, listed below!

Watch The Spinto Band’s “Jackhammer”

Spinto Band Tour Dates
10.31.09
Lafayette/Atmosphere
11.01.09
Birmingham/Bottletree Cafe
11.02.09
Nashville/ The Basement
11.03.09
Bloomington/The Bishop
11.04.09
Chicago/Schubas
11.05.09
Urbana/Illini Courtyard Cafe
11.06.09
Pontiac/Pike Room @ Crofoot
11.07.09
Pittsburgh/Garfield Artworks

Jamie ****** – “chillin at the house.who knows what ill do today.not gonna let anything or anyone get me down.im turning my life back around.”

- Jamie…. I had no idea you could spit such sick ryhmes. I’m not going to lie, (what the f**k were you thinking? You just embarressed the entire human race with that Kidz Bop rhyme) I’m pretty jealous of your dope rhythm and positive message. So, I was thinking, next time you decide to update your status with some harmonious dog crap lyrics let me know, I would love to help smash your computer to bits with an acid tipped jackhammer .

I posted this because it’s one of my favorite pictures. This was actually proven true by snopes.com. The most marvelous aspect of life is its awesome ability to never stop amazing me.

I have finally come up with a few points and idea’s for my new article.

Its still not the sort to keep me up at nights.

My freelance jobs going well for all practical purposes.

Suffered a square knock to my head with a jackhammer today, so to speak. Still recovering from that.

My minds still fogged. A good nights sleep should put everything back in its place.

The school year is completed, and that includes my grading of over two hundred essays. If there was ever better proof of the fact that I have not taught high school in a while, it is that I assigned a 3-4 page essay to accompany a final project in all five of my English classes, and then proceeded to give my students a final exam consisting of two essay questions. 69 students X 3 essays each = 1 naive teacher. Yet, somehow, I survived and now live to blog about it. And I have been reminded of the subtle irony of teaching. You make mistakes in Year A, and attempt to fix them for Year B, only to make brand new mistakes in Year B that you must fix for Year C. By the time Year Z rolls around and you are staggering down the home stretch toward the tape of retirement, you realize that you have never had a perfect year of teaching. If ever someone needed proof that pobody’s nerfect, tell ‘em to spend a few years in the field of education.

Of course, the best release for such stress is a little thing I have dubbed Fantasy Construction Camp, or FCC for short. Every BFA missionary who hangs around Kandern during the summer is required by the school to give two weeks to assist with the many projects that always take place during June and July, such as dorm renovation, school repairs, landscaping, and, without fail, the transfer of excrutiatingly heavy pieces of furniture up or down a minimum of two floors. Granted, some of the more merciful of you readers might think, What does he mean ‘required to give two weeks’? Hasn’t he given up ten months working at that place for no pay? 

Now, now, don’t be cynical. To be indignant on such things would be to miss the beauty of Fantasy Construction Camp. I just completed my two week stretch yesterday. And during it all, my thoughts were, as George Bluth Sr. remarked excitedly to his son, “I’m having the time of my life!” Over the past two weeks, I have gotten to chisel, bust apart and shovel tile and cement from three dorm bathrooms (I had no idea three little bathrooms could produce so much debris!), – I even got to use a jackhammer; I have shop-vacuumed a dirt floor (not to be confused with a dirty floor); I have moved countless pieces of furniture from one residence hall to another (the only similarity in these pieces of furniture was the fact that they all weighed way too much to ever be moved); I have swept, scraped, Spackled and painted; I have built things and torn down other things in the same day (the Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away); I have picked up and handed off at least a hundred boxes of tile; and I have pitchforked thorny weeds that bit back at me so much you would swear they were straight out of a Harry Potter book. Perhaps my favorite task is best illustrated in the pictures below.

My friend Isaac and I were assigned the wonderfully surreal task of smashing out an entire wall at the Black Forest Academy elementary school last week. We made two little classrooms into one big one. I now consider myself a pro with the sledgehammer, and while I am not yet willing to seek out a career in demolition, that particular field has definitely rocketed to the top of my “Most Fun Jobs to Do for a Maximum of Two Weeks” list. Heck, I only stepped on one nail during the entire process.

It is interesting what a little change of perspective can do for a person. It can serve as a kind of release if you are careful enough to pay attention to the differences. I tried to do just that over the last two weeks. I am certainly happy that my FCC tour of duty is over, but I don’t regret the two weeks I was pulled away from lounging on the couch or hacking away at my novel. It was good work, and I was glad to be a part of a collective effort, of white-collars made momentarily blue.

Most days, a few of us would hike up the road from one of the dorms in which we were working. We would carry our bag lunches out to a little bench that sat in the shade amongst high grass and overlooked the 18th hole of the golf course in Kandern. There we would eat our food and watch a number of folks – some elderly, some young – whack their drives, hack their chips and smack their putts (very few read the green properly). Oh, they thought they had chosen the correct way to get the most out of their summer days. If only they knew…

So the school I work at is doing major renovations. Fine, fine, and all. HOWEVER: They are jack hammering outside my window, and I have cement dust in my lungs. I kid you not. I can’t even hear my Pandora, which is cranked up and playing “That Thing You Do.”

I am annoyed. What annoys you all on Fridays? More to come later:

1. Pictures of my cake from my b-day

2. The books I got for free from the library today.

Happy Friday! (Now Pandora is playing Hanson. All is right in the world.)

Loafers found a real gem from my hometown paper. Good work, bro.

MAJOR CHANGES COMING TO BETTER RECEPTION

STAY TUNED

]]> http://chicagoqueeradventures.wordpress.com/2009/05/12/the-evangelical-phase-according-to-mike/ Tue, 12 May 2009 22:05:01 +0000 lesbianpaola http://chicagoqueeradventures.wordpress.com/2009/05/12/the-evangelical-phase-according-to-mike/

May has been a whirlwind month full of commitments, birthdays, and other crazy things.  I feel like our blog has not been able to keep up with all the activity.
Friday, May 1st, was one of those Fridays where work has exhausted you for the week and you just want ice cream, a movie, and relaxation time. I had, however, already made plans with Mike to have a wicked adventure.  We went back and forth (while laundry and some hardcore TV watching ensued) about the night. Finally, around like 11:30ish we said, “Fuck It!” and decided that we HAD to go out.
We started off by finishing off some Jell-O shots (note: I would advise against consuming Jell-O shots that have been in your fridge for over 3 weeks) and participating in some questionable herbal substance use. Once Mike was done with his laundry and he convinced me that it was not okay to go out in yoga pants, we downed what was seriously the equivalent of a glass and a half of straight up vodka in one gulp – true story: that was me and not mike – there was a cocktail or two more, Coconut rum?
After being entranced by some Golden Girls episodes and eventually winning the battle and turning off the TV, we headed out at somewhere close to midnight.
We hit up CVS, – seriously why hit up the ATM @ a bar that over charges you, when you can get some gum or Spree and get cash back? – where I had the incredible idea of returning some $ 3 bag of cups I had bought and decided then and there that I didn’t need.
We had been talking about going to a local bar around my neighborhood, The Sovereign for weeks, and finally after trying to decide if the Anvil was a better option, we headed to The Sovereign.
As a side bar: this 5 or 6 block walk to the bar was stumbled and filled with an immediate urgency to randomly take pictures of us in the wilderness of Edgewater/Rogers Park. I remember a picture in some shrubs where Tyra would have been proud of the depth of my look. This urgency for random picture taking would continue all night/morning.
The Sovereign had been described to me as a queer friendly, quirky, dive bar that boasted a jukebox with great tunes and an interesting mixture of neighborhood locals, queers, and hipsters. Most of this turned out to be completely accurate. They forgot to mention the collection of board games. I am not sure what time we arrived, but I know as soon as we did we started an intense Connect Four Tournament.  The most interesting thing about that night was the hipsters playing some board game in the bar and insisting on only playing Beatles tunes, some soccer hooligan types (they sort of made me feel uncomfortable), and some extremely drunk girl that flailed around and was THAT drunk girl at a bar. However, this bar was too small for you to be able to avoid noticing how awkward she was. But, we were also toasted and have a vague recollection of the evening, so who am I to judge. The award of the night – well this portion – goes to the awkward and mumble bartender that delighted us with his weird hipster vibe, but took forever in getting our drinks even after he said it was last call and turned off the neon sign that read open and locked the door. He also engaged in some weird interactions with other customers and awkwardly hugged a dude that came in and held an awkward handshake for at least 5 minutes. We chalked this up to the “quirkiness” of the bar; it was also apparently his “first night” (the accuracy of this is unknown). Note: The Sovereign is also one of the only bars in my neighborhood (that I know of) where you can buy a six-pack.

Eventually, we realized we were going to get no more $2 PBR’s (the $3 from CVS came in handy) from this dive and were going to have to come up with a plan.
Knowing that the Anvil on Granville also closed early, we were left with few choices about where to head.
Somehow, after some drunk debating and keeling over, we had an epiphany and decided to walk to Jackhammer; this walk was also filled with posing and random pictures.
Jackhammer is known as a leather bar, but I wouldn’t exactly say that is accurate. It’s more like fetish friendly. It’s on Clark in Rogers Park and boasts an eclectic crowd, is attached to a fetish store, and has a basement (dungeon room?) where that Friday the requirement was no shirts. I think on Saturdays or some other days the requirements are underwear or leather.  I like Jackhammer because with the cover you get a free drink ticket (worth $5, the same price as the cover) and is somewhat mixed (usually more men), but very lesbian friendly.  The evening started to get hazy after this and I remember a small debate about heading to the downstairs room and deciding against it and realizing that the bathroom had recently been renovated (you used to be able to see into the men’s room, or maybe this was a drunken observation that my mind made and isn’t completely true).
We left the bar barely able to stand and tried to figure out if we wanted to go to Touché or just head home. Luckily, the Clark bus stopped right in front of us and we hopped on. We missed our stop and got off right in front of White Castle, where another drunk decision led us to White Castle and snack bags and observing the weird assortment of drunken people also in desperate need of something to soak up their night.

We eventually headed home, amazed at how our night had evolved into such an adventure and eagerly talked about how we could top this…
We didn’t realize what Sunday would bring…

ARNDALE, OK – Sheriff’s investigators have closed the unsettling case of a 49-year-old female construction worker found dead in her driveway after a neighbor witnessed her using a high-powered jackhammer to pleasure herself.

After a two-day investigation in which officials initially suspected foul play–Shirley Dent’s death on May 1 has now been ruled an accident “after severe internal distress induced by the machine was discovered,” Det.-Sgt. Karl Sprout of the Alpara County Sheriff’s Office said yesterday.

On May 1, a neighbor witnessed a naked Ms. Dent in her driveway “struggling to direct a jackhammer toward her mid-section.” The alarmed neighbor notified police after hearing ear-splitting moans of distress that carried over the raucous jackhammer. Authorities arrived at the scene to an unresponsive Ms. Dent, who was then transported to West Grenier Hospital where she was pronounced dead shortly thereafter.

The recently divorced Ms. Dent had been questioned by authorities three times over the past month after neighbors complained of her running a prostitution ring from her home. Records also show that Ms. Dent supplemented her income as the sole proprietor of a sex toy distributor.

Ms. Dent’s alleged extracurricular activities appear to be unrelated to her death. A neighbor who declined to be identified said, “She was a horny lady, especially after her husband moved out. My family could hear moans coming from her place all the time.”

A big thank you goes out to Jack Tucker and Sue Kreutzer for being great people. Fly tiers are awesome. I was left a comment by a very nice woman pointing out that I hadn’t given proper credit for the IOBO fly found in the W.F.F. Flies section. I promptly changed it and sent her a reply. Sue being wonderful, passed on the information to Jack Tucker the originator of the fly who ask me for an address and here is what I received a few days later. 

It makes me smile to know that I’ve made friends with a few people just by our love of fly tying. Thanks to Sue and Jack for creating and publishing the information on the IOBO and I can’t wait for the opportunity to fish a Tucker tied IOBO. Along with the IOBO pattern that spurred the conversation Jack sent me a “Jackhammer” which is a klinkhammer parachute patter and some craft yarn to experiment with. You can see the IOBO instructions here and the instruction for the Jackhammer here.

It’s been about eight months since I last posted anything on this blog.  Since pictures speak louder than words, I decided to post a picture showing the progress that’s been made.  Pretty soon my view to the west will be gone.  The only bright spot is that they finally stopped using the jackhammer!    

Construction as of Nov. 08

http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=kGxrbVXi_rc