28 Days Later

Sailing tomorrow, out of Seattle, the Infectious Disease Cruise Conference. Seven boisterous days of HIV, MRSA, Tuberculosis, Lyme, Clostridium and our current fave H1N1. Haz-Mat suit fashion show on Wednesday. Explosive coughing contest Thursday. TCG gets feverish just thinking about it. Be sure and pack plenty of anti-microbial soap and handwipes. And for pete's sake, try and stay out of confined spaces like, um, airplanes and cruise ships. No word yet on the city for the return docking.

To Cornhole Or Not To Cornhole?

The first time TCG saw the game being played, it was instantly familiar: Bean Bag Toss. As a child, it was fun enough to occupy a half hour at a birthday party but not much more. Fast forward to adulthood and then some to find grown men and women whippin those bags towards the target and, behold, the phenomenon known as.....Cornhole? Exsqueeze me?

Described by Stephen Colbert as a "combination of horseshoes and sodomy," this new leisuretime pursuit is sweeping the nation. And by nation, I mean a demographic of undereducated, overfed, orthodonture-impaired, vermilion-necked yahoos located primarily in the former Confederate States of America. They giggled when they first said "cornhole" as a young tyke and, for them, the hilarity never ended. Indeed, the Cornhole lexicon is full of shit-yer-pants kneeslappin disambiguity: swish, back door, blocked hole, dirty bag/sanchez, gusher, police (u betcha), slider, lick side, etc. Pros can "hustle the hole." Players are known as, of course, Cornholers. Just ask Beavis or Butthead, I never knew which one was who.

Like so many of the major sports, Cornholing is experiencing growing pains. Chief among these is the fact that its very name conjures up images of Ned Beatty squealing as he is man-raped by Toothless Bugger #2 in Deliverance. But does the sport thrive because of or despite its name? A spokesman for the toy company that promotes its Cornhole products under the name Baggo puts it thusly, "What would you rather hear your child shout out when they score?" On the other hand, Delmas McCoon, president of the American Cornhole Association says, "Hey, it's just a name. Of course I know it's another word for anal. That's the beauty part. Guys come for the sex and stay for the game." Wheeee-doggies!

You Had Me At Bacon.......

Fresh from the fertile mind of Katrina Markoff, chocolatier and owner of Vosges Haut-Chocolat, the unholy melding of sweet and savory, smoke and swine: Mo's Bacon Bar. How many billions of bong hits have drifted over the transom, wasted, before someone figured THIS out? Applewood smoked bacon and alderwood smoked salt covered in rich milk chocolate. If having his former son-in-law buried in the same hallowed ground isn't enough to bring Elvis back to life, this oughta do the trick.

Worse than a Sharp Stick in the Eye

It looks innocent enough. A simple blue and white box of a size that would hold a personal electronic device. The labelling begins simply, "HalfLytely & Bisacodyl tablets." Next,the words that send a chill from the top of my spine to the bottom of my taint--"Bowel Prep Kit."

Inside that devil box are substances that will, in a very short time, reign down destruction on my GI system on a scale heretofore not experienced by TCG, even considering my awesome worldliness. This will be Katrina, Krakatoa, and Nuclear Armageddon all rolled into one in the name of "prepping" my "bowel."

Thursday, July 2, TCG faces that ungraceful process precursing one's entry into codgerhood--the colonoscopy. In many societies the rite of passage into manhood is marked by ceremony. There may be a walkabout or a dreamquest, followed by a feast and much celebration. Family and friends will congratulate The Man and become intoxicated, perform feats of strength, sacrifice an animal or two, rekindle old arguments and end up pissed off all over again. In this society when one passes from young man to old fart they run a (shudder) SIX FOOT SNAKE UP YOUR ASS. This is Progress? Why we fight them there, blah, blah, blah?

The fiends who have devised this "prep" start you off easily. Step 1: Take tablets. Step 2: Mix solution. Step 3: Wait for a bowel movement. Drink all the solution. Step 4: You will have approximately 10 "loose bowel movements," then approximately 200-300 more. You will lose count and for good reason. Some movements you will think should count as 4 or 5. Some movements will jump the shark past your bowels to include the hairs of your head and the nails of your toes. Your conception of "bowel movement" will become transcendent, all-encompassing, with spiritual, emotional and existential components. Your "bowel" is everywhere and nowhere, nothing and everything. You will be forever changed. Congratulations, Grasshopper, your "bowel" is now "prepped." "Prepped" to receive 60 inches of fiber optic technology where the sun don't shine.

Everyone says "the next part" is not as bad as the prep part. Hell, brave, spunky Katie Couric allowed hers to be televised. TCG considered this, enrolling his friends in the media to help memorialize his transformation from wild-at-heart rapscallion to another old dude awaiting his turn at shuffle board. A good idea? Not so much. Catch the LiveBlog instead. Say a prayer, light a candle and get out of the way.

Would You Travel 11 Hours in a Plane, Ruin Your Chances to be President and Destroy Your Family for this Woman?

"Maria" has now been revealed to be Maria Belen Chapur. Pictured above in a badly focussed and oddly composed photograph at an art opening or something is the 25 mile stretch of the Appalachian Trail that entitled Governor Sanford to lifetime membership in the Dumbass Club. "Governor Sanford, meet Governor Spitzer. I'm sure you will have much to discuss." The "curves" of Sra. Chapur's hips which turned the Gov into such a goofy sounding horn-dog are readily apparent and abundant. Ay caramba!

Detritus: Buddy Ebsen

Stuff you probably would never have known had I not used Buddy Ebsen as a standin for the Kings Mountain lottery winner:

• Born Christian Rudolph Ebsen, Jr., April 2, 1908.



• Grew up in Palm Beach, Florida, where his father had a dance school--huh?



• Got his start as a brother/sister dance/vaudeville act with sister Vilma--The Baby Astaires



• Was cast as the Tinman in Wizard of Oz, but had to abandon role when he bacame seriously ill due to an allergy to the aluminum dust used as makeup



• His goal in life was to be a doctor, but that ambition was thwarted by the Florida land bust in the 20's



• 6', 3.5", measured left



• Avid sailor, owned a boat building company, won several Trans-Pacific races on his 35' catamaran



• Nailed Donna Douglas (Elly Mae) on a regular basis



• Max Baer, Jr., (Jethro) too



• Duke, too



• Nancy Kulp (Miss Jane), too

Stay Thirsty My Friends

OK, so now Mark Sanford has reappeared from his "hiking the Appalachian Trail" and, by that, he meant making a last minute decision to fly to Buenos Aires for a week to "drive along the coast." The Gov also said BA was a "beautiful city." Why not? Hey, Blame It On Rio!

Although today makes it only one week that TCG has lived in South Carolina, even temporarily, I am overwhelmed by my love for this state and its leaders. Rusty DePass. The Ghost of Strom Thurmond. And now, Mark Sanford! Let's throw a tea bagger in honor of the safe return from his Most Excellent Adventure!

Yes, TCG can see POTUS 2012 as the next most obvious step for such a manly, cute, adventurous fellow. A free spirit. And Dos Equis says they employ The Most Interesting Man In The World. Screw them. I and my fellow South Carolinians leave them in the dust. Stay thirsty my friends.