The Dog's Tits
23 May 2006
Henry Gomez over at Val Prieto's blog got to meet a true hero - Felix Ismael Rodriguez - the man who captured the filthy commie mass-murdering cunt Che Guevara, who was then rightfully shot and shoved six feet under, where his rotting corpse belongs.
In the unlikely event Senor Rodriguez and I ever meet, I'm buying the guy a few thousand beers.
And just for the fun of it, here's Che's stinky corpse on a slab:
Paul Sheehan excoriates the recently-croaked lawyer John Marsden. The world is truly richer having lost him.
Let's face it, the Swedes are pretty much screwed, wouldn't you say?
A perfect example of what happens when large-scale muslim immigration meets the cuddly welfare state.
Other than pizza, one of my great food loves, especially in winter, is a nice hot bowl of soup.
I'm actually pretty picky when it comes to soup. I loathe many common varieties of the stuff, especially anything which involves pumpkin, mushrooms, carrots and those horrid so-called 'soups' where you get a bowl of what is basically clear hot water with bloody vegetables floating in it.
My favoured soups:
Thick pea & ham soup. Gotta be sludge-like, and served piping hot. My dad actually makes the best pea & ham soup on the planet. Shredded-toast croutons are optional. Better is breaking pieces off a french bread loaf and dunking it. Yummmmm. Best of all is the legendary South Australian treat, the pie floater. Anyone who doesn't like pie floaters is a fuckin' commie. The funny thing is I hate peas. Go figure.
Chicken & Sweet Corn soup. Chinese restaurants in Australia have this one down pat. Perfect as an appetizer or on its own.
(Various permutations of) crab soup. Can be with sweet corn, on its own, with chicken or other white-meat seafood. Must be boiling hot and thick with crab meat.
"Cheap" chicken noodle soup. I'm talking about the stuff you buy for 99 cents in a small packet. I'm a sucker for this stuff, and it's a life-preserver when you have the flu. In fact, during a horrendous bout of the flu back in 1998, when I lost most of my sense of tatse, this was the only stuff I could eat.
"Proper" chicken noodle soup. again, my dad makes a killer version of this. A lovely flavourful broth, in a big-ass bowl chock-full of thin noodles and chicken bits. Mmmmmmm.
So, those are my favoured soups. What are yours? Email me at tex*at*whackingday*dot*com. Recipies for fine soups are welcome.
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