Local time where you're at. ("Where you're at"?)

His Son, the Lord Jesus Christ, and the work He performed on the cross that allowed me to receive His salvation.  (An aside:  Yeah, in case anyone didn’t know – I’m a Christian.  Not anywhere close to being the best example thereof, to be sure, but I’m still being worked on, and you’re just gonna have to be patient. (grin))

Being an American, and free to worship as I choose.  For now, given whom the morons of this country just put into office.

My wife, Mrs. Venomous.  Yes, Denizens, I haven’t really mentioned it up until now, given my track record with such pronouncements (rueful grin) – but it’s once more through the marriage breach, dear friends.  That’s five now – yes, it does pain me to say that – and So Help Me Cthulu™, this is the last one, forever & ever, a-freakin’-men.  But this one has convinced me that the institution of marriage really is a Good Thing™ – she cares for me more than the other four combined.  (No offense intended, D.)

My current home – a two-story, two-bedroom jobber I share with the aforementioned Mrs, a chow/terrier and a huge lump of muscle & energy in the shape of a collie/sheltie mix.  Not the cozy cottage in Forney, but at least I have an office again from which to pen (pen?) these screeds.

My son – Stephen Geoffrey “Skip” Crager, Jr.  (although his doublewide-assed mother insists on calling him “Geoffrey”).  Even though I haven’t seen you since 2003, Skip, I still love you.  Always will.  Always remember that.

Friends & family, some more than others.  Even the ones who are diametrically opposed to me in their beliefs.

And while I’m thinking about it – and I should have really mentioned this last year, too – my sister in law.  My brother, heretofore doomed to a lifetime of Eternal Bachelorhood™ – not necessarily a Bad Thing™, given his sibling’s aforementioned catastrophic track record – was pulled from that abyss by a wonderful woman he met only a couple of years prior.  They celebrated their first anniversary back in August, and while it hasn’t been Easy Street™ for them, they’re doing better than okay.

Employment.  Specifically, mine as a desktop technician, where I get to play with computers all day long – in effect, getting paid to practice my hobby.

(Thankfully, I’ve had a full-time gig since 2006, for a company known to me and only to me – since I know pussies like Cianderella Tierney, who bitched long and loud about me being a NetKKKop before having his ass exposed as a lying skank that doesn’t work at EDS, would love to find out where I work and try to get me fired…)

Okay, where was I…?

MP3s.  The ability to take all my all-time favorite songs, regardless of format, and transfer them to something I can listen to in my car.  Fuck you,  Hilary Rosen.

Turkey.  Lots of it, preferably drumsticks.

Leftovers.  Turkey sammiches with lots of mustard.  YEAH!

(Well, hold the bread on that.  I have got to-got to-got to start paying more attention to Atkins.)

An American President who, though he is still not completely trustworthy in my eye, is at least giving the impression that he is, at least, trying – which is a damn sight better than what we could have had, hm?  And at least this guy understands that the Presidency isn’t just one big frat party.  (This will be crossed out for at least the next four years.)

The military which he commands.  Peepz, these men & women do a helluva job protecting you and yours and the freedoms you enjoy, and they do it for pretty much next-to-nothing.  Next time you see one, take a moment to say, “Thank you”.  (Another aside:  When I first posted this, I left out one very important group of guys:  the Coast Guard.  Unconscionable, since one of my readers served in that very branch.  Mr. Slagle, my apologies – and my thanks.)

My car:  A 2007 Chevy Cobalt.  Quick, cozy, and twice the gas mileage of my old truck.  In this day and age, that’s important.  For $10 more per month, I get all that, plus a 5/50 warranty.  Good stuff, that.

A seafood restaurant chain here locally by the name of “Ole Whiskers”.  Catfish, chicken, ribs, stuffed crab, onion rings, and a host of other great stuff.  Catfish topped with Tabasco© sauce has become a staple.

My current box – a Pentium 2.66-GHz with 2 gigs of DDR RAM.  Two 21″ monitors so that I don’t have to squint anymore when I write these things.  (Well, not much, anyway – at 1280×1024, things are still awfully small.)

The aforementioned crap-on-the-carpet dogs – she’s still a precious little lapdog, and she captures the heart of anyone that meets her.  The aforementioned collie mix – a whirling dervish that tears everything up, but he has an infectious personality.  Even my brother’s little min-pin, Mindy – one of the most affectionate dogs you’ll ever see.  (They’ve since added a precious little dachsund mix, Demi, who operates at one speed:  Warp.  Beautiful pup.)

Ham.  Not as much as a turkey drumstick, but leftover ham does go good with eggs.

Any college football team that severely thrashes the Texas A&M Aggies.  (Not anymore.  Now that they’re rid of Dennis “The Mercenary” Franchione, and they’re getting their heads handed them on a weekly basis, it’s probably more appropos to pity them.)

Any college football team that severely thrashes Nebraska.  (Not since they hired Bo Pelini, and hopefully never again.)

Any college football team that severely thrashes Miami.

Any college football team that severely thrashes Arkansas.

Any college football team that severely thrashes Texas.  (Unless it’s Arkansas.)

TCU’s Horned Frogs.  Your best job ever this year, Gary Patterson.  Even if you don’t win the BCS bowl to which the Froggies’ll get invited, you’ve established yourself as one of, if not the  best coaches the program’s ever had.  Do the city of Fort Worth a favor – don’t go all Franchione on us and jilt us for Bama or Notre Dame or somesuch, mkay?

Any college football team that severely thrashes SMUT.

Any pro football team that kicks the crap out of Donna McNabb and the Philthydelphia Beagles – something the Cowboys did this year in Philthy, and will do this year in Dallas.

Tony Romo.  Especially if he ever wins a playoff game… (sigh)

Jerry Jones – for signing that extension for Romo. (grin)

Southern Baptist churches that aren’t afraid to call themselves “Baptist”. (Not since they climbed into bed with the enviro-nutjob movement.  Now it’s any church that unashamedly preaches the Gospel and refuses to compromise with its enemies.)

An occasional road trip – maybe to go fishing, or even if it’s work-related.  I love staying in hotels where I can crank up the AC at night, and not have to worry about the electric bill (grin).

Microsoft.  No, all you morons at the federal judiciary – Bill Gates does not run a monopoly, and you damned well know it.  What he does do is run an extremely successful company, one that you bastards tried to shake down for $$$$, and failed.  It’s not a secret that the tech sector crashed simultaneously with Janet El Reño’s baseless attack against Microsoft.

Spanish-language television channels.  You will not find a better-looking collection of major babes anywhere on Planet Earth.  And they don’t mind letting people know that they’re women either, dammit.  Take that, NOW. 

Mashed potatoes.  With a ton of gravy.  (Atkins be damned on this one.  (grin))

Ranch-style beans™.  (Well, not so much now, seeing as ConAgra Backstabbing Foods has decided to shut down the Fort Worth plant that RSB has called home forever – but it’s still a nice little bean.)

Sweet tea – even though, being a Type II diabetic, I can no longer drink the stuff (make mine Sweet ‘n Low, 3 packets per 40 ounces, please unsweetened, unless it’s peach or cranberry tea, please).

Hooters’ hot wings.  Scenery’s not bad, either. 

Dueling-piano bars.  Picture two baby-grands.  Picture two players with crass senses of humor.  Picture some of the raunchiest lyrics ever conceived – sometimes on the fly.  Picture yourself laughing your ass off.  Try it sometime.

Rush Limbaugh.  Sean Hannity.  Mark Levin.  Glenn Beck (though Levin seems to not like him for some reason).  Michael Savage.  Michael Reagan – and, in case I’ve not mentioned it before…his dad, too.

Ann Coulter.  Michelle Malkin.  Laura Ingraham.  Sigh, yowzah. 

The Blogosphere™.  Specifically, Misha and Alan Henderson – for getting me into this blogging thing.

My new hairstylist.  In all my lifetime, I’ve only found three people who could fully understand what I wanted done to my hair, and do it right in a minimum of time:  one retired about 15 years ago.  This one’s just as good as her predecessor – and she’s a major babe, too.  (grin)