So I Did This…


Old Fashioned Buttermilk Fried Chicken


(from video)

“Today we show you how to make Old Fashioned Buttermilk Fried Chicken Crispy and Delicious

“Been making it like this for my whole life and it is very easy and cheap to make… If you looking for a crowd pleasing Fried Chicken recipe look no further..”


  • 3 Cups Flour
  • 1 tablespoon Salt
  • 1 tablespoon Pepper
  • 1 tablespoon Garlic powder (Not Garlic Salt)
  • (I added cayenne pepper)


  • 3 Cups Buttermilk
  • 3 Tablespoons Hot Sauce ( I used Texas Pete Red Hot Sauce )
  • (I added cayenne pepper)

Brown Gravy

The Noonan household greeted this news variously.

Some Happy
Some Crazy
Some Straight-Up Weird!

But over all positive!! (despite what it looks like)



I Just Want To

I  put my faith in the people but the people let me down

So I turned the other way and I carry on, anyhow

I just want to celebrate

Another day of living

I just want to celebrate

Another day of living

Don’t let it get you down, no, no

Don’t let it turn you around and around and around


I can’t be bothered with sorrow

I can’t be bothered by hate

The music has me feeling fine


2016 Has Been Entirely Owned by Women

(and that’s a good thing)

In our top story:

Jessie Graff

It’s been an excellent year for women, I think we could all agree to some extent, despite our certainly disparate views of superheroes and politicians.

In any case, congratulations are due to this woman, Jessie Graff, for owning this grueling course! The first woman to ever finish the course and she did it in a top 30 time! Awesome! Enjoy!

And I don’t know much about it but 04:27:84 seems like a very good time. I know it would beat my time.

If there ever was a time I attempted the course.

And didn’t die trying.

Which I most certainly would.


Against My Better Judgment

[handwritten notes penned on or around 4-19-2010, transcribed here with minimal edits for your reading curiosity]


Crazy writer guy with a notebook in a sports bar. Outside was a clear blue sky, spring verdant and building momentum. Inside there were too many screens and nowhere to look. A paradox of technological intrusion.

Technology insists. It shouts and demands our attention like a spoiled child. It cannot be mute (or not for long). It cannot be hidden in the gentle thrush and delicious tendrils of Nature. Technology must be seen, heard, felt, in all its silicon insistence. That’s the nature of Technology.


Long tendrils of dark brown hair wash over his chest as she moved above him, plunging and gasping and shattering into a million sparkling shards, then collapsing on his chest, knitting herself back together, taking her time before releasing him, her eyes surrendered yet hidden from him through the veil of her hair. The two of them, together. And alone in this trembling moment.


A tiny tattoo, a crescent moon with a star impossibly between its points, just above the waist of her low-slung jeans, in the hollow of her hip, right where he ached to bite, to pinch, to startle. Then suckle and sooth until she pushed his head lower.


“A zoo bear,” she said, a sly grin creeping across her face. “Not a real one, so I wasn’t frightened. Though I was somewhat confused about its appearance in my kitchen.”

He never knew how to read her when she was like this.