There's One Less Mole in the World - FINALLY!

His new tunnel was at least my 15th target. I'd moved the trap just yesterday to a brand new pathway and, by god, this time I won! You see, the little bastards have no idea how persistent their pursuer is. The damage these guys are doing to the lawn had to stop. I wasn't quitting. The trap had sprung once before, but when I pulled it from the tunnel months ago, it was bereft of mole. Not this time. You goofed, you little POS.

I was playing with Turd Ferguson this morning. It was chilly as a blast of Yankee air came visiting last night. I love the cold and Turd was bouncing around like a puppy when I let her out. On my days off, I generally either get out on the bike real early or, after feeding Ferg, I wander the backyard, picking off the spent rose heads, saying hello to all my plants and flowers, and stomping down mole tunnels. It's what old farts do. I'm sure the neighbors hear me muttering about the tunnels and giving Turd tips on how to kill moles. She used to at least attempt to nail them, but, after digging many unsuccessful holes, she gave up.

As I neared my shed on the last leg of my backyard rounds, I saw that the trap was sprung. It's a strong trap. When it slams shut, it slams hard. But, looking at its design, it's always appeared to me that as a mole pushes upward and triggers the thing, at best, the mole would be momentarily trapped between the two ends of the contraption. A quick side dig would allow the mole to carry on his merry way. As I pulled the trap from the ground this time, my heart fluttered a bit as I tugged at the earth. I see grass...sand...dirt...MOLE! HOLEY MOLEY! There's a damn mole in the trap! A certain trap owner who'd written glowing reviews of this trap on Amazon (I'm sure he must be the owner of the company that produces them) had recommended having a shovel nearby, as oft times the varmint will not be dead and can escape as you pull him out. So I was ready, but this li'l mole had the misfortune of the trap snapping his spine. He was a goner. He was cold and he wasn't going anywhere.

I dusted some of the sand from his little face. Moles ain't cute. Well, they have little pink feet and a pink tail, but their lack of eyes somehow makes me feel less evil for wanting them to die en masse. It's not that I want all sightless creatures to perish, but the wee fellow simply had no personality. And I think that's partly due to his lack of eyeballs.

So finally, after 4 months, I have my first trophy mole. I have 6 more regions/districts (I'm not sure what the moles call them) to purge of the little bastards. As sad as the recent photos of all those beautiful tigers and lions lying together dead in Ohio were, I'd love to see 6 or 7 moles laying side by side breathing no more. I'm not optimistic, but I'm going to ride this high for a while and get really aggressive. I may hang this one near a highly populated area so the others can see their impending fate. Wait, they can't see. Hmmmmm...I could put Braille notes in all the tunnels...

My young neighbor has never seen a mole and has been anxiously awaiting this moment. I've emailed her that she can finally gaze upon the rarely seen critter when she gets home this evening.

I am crossing this subterranean ghost off my list of seldom seen monsters: the yeti, Nessie, the chupacabra, and Phyllis Diller remain, but at least one mole has been spotted, knocked off, and will destroy that section of my yard no more.

Riding Yesterday

Sometimes in life you hit that spot where everything falls into place and is absolutely perfect.

I fixed the problem with my bike the other day. Spark plug wire problem. I'm not a mechanic (far from it!), so I was real proud of actually getting in there, digging around under the seat and tank and correcting the skipping I'd been occasionally experiencing. It's now running so strong that it's ridiculous. Yesterday I rode EVERYWHERE. The last part of my ride was down this road toward Hayneville that we rode a million times as high schoolers to a friend's farm to party. It's got lots of curves and undulations ... swoops ... areas where the dips are long and smooth. A coworker I described this road to called me and my bike an "asphalt dolphin". It's almost orgasmic in the spacing and feel. I wasn't even "of the earth" whilst flying through there yesterday. I don't guess that woulda worked out so good if a pickup truck had pulled out from a side road, but things went well. Perfect day, perfect temp, and the bike running so well. Nothing could mess it up...except I kept being pissed at Bruce for not being around to ride in the truck and listen to music with me! He and I had ridden the roads I was on so many times...

Anyway, I rode the interstate home...making sure everything was running right up to 90 mph and then back down. Aaaah....perfect. Got home, parked it, and stepped back to admire the beautiful machine that had transported me to an ethereal place just moments before...and saw a f**king nail in the rear tire!

Gotta get something done about that. Shit.

Moles, You Are Gonna Die!

I am beginning a new stage in my mission to destroy the mole/vole population in our yard. They are waaaay outta hand at this point. The front is currently under assault, and that's the last straw. I've worked too hard creating a beautiful lawn to put up with this shit any more. I've spent mornings and evenings crushing tunnels out back. I mashed at least 30 feet of tunnels just this morning in the backyard where the little bastards have run wild for months. It's over. They are going down. In the recent past I've run a hose from my truck's exhaust pipe into tunnels to no avail. I have poured gas into them. I have flooded them with rushing torrents of water. I can't use bait out back for fear of harming my dogs and it's failed miserably out front.

After exhaustive research I have ordered this product: Mole trap Amazon

Read some of the first review of this product. The guy is hilarious. But more importantly, it appears this trap will get the job done. The reviewer has become a mole serial killer. I wanna be like him. I wanna be the John Wayne Gacy of mole killers. The Ted Bundy. The Henry Lee Lucas. If I fail to wipe out our clan, I will hire that guy.

It's on, folks. The moles are going down.

Stay tuned. I will report on the efficacy of this trap. The Ray Charles, Jose Felicianos, and Stevie Wonders of the undergound are doomed.

Running the Stadium Steps

Ford must be proud.

Stanhope Elmore's mascot.

The new fieldhouse from the stadium.


About two weeks ago, I embarked on a serious exercise program . The purpose is to see if I can muster the discipline to stick with anything long enough to actually see some results. I'm doing 600-1000 of my modified crunches daily and I run the stadium steps at the nearby high school as often as I can get over there. On the second day that I ran I saw a guy in the school's tee shirt mowing the football field. I figured I should ask him if it's alright to be running up his stadium's tiers. He said, "Sure, knock yourself out." I told him that was exactly what I feared most.

Yesterday, I pushed it. I know it doesn't sound like much, but there are 34 steps which I take two at a time in my rush to the top. Generally after 4 trips, I can lean on the railing at the top and feel like I'm going to either explode or flip over the top. Look, I'm freakin' 56, almost 57, and I spent a lot of years abusing every organ, muscle, and joint in my body. Well, yesterday, I made 6 trips to the top row.

I woke up in a crumpled blob this morning. I was laying at the bottom row of the upper level of the stadium. Apparently I fell and passed out. No one spotted me, or, if they did, they laughed at the old man and went on their way. I was awakened by a chicken. It licked my face, I got up, ran the steps again, and hustled home to shower and get to the office.

It seems that, in the short time I've been doing this new batch of exercises (as well as eating so much lettuce that I crap every 15 minutes) my belt has already moved over a notch and my jeans are saggy. Between the crunches and the steps and the salads, I may get rid of this gut. I thought I saw a muscle in there this morning, but it must have been the outline of my liver throbbing from past abuse.