South Texas Mixed Grill, before
South Texas Mixed Grill, after
This morning I sauntered down to my office (tripping over the dog Bert, who was eating the last guitar pick in the house and who, I ascertained when my glance out the kitchen window came to rest upon several pairs of my shoes (and a sock) sticking out of various holes in the ground, had conducted at least four midnight ninja footwear raids, collecting unauthorized matÃ©riel for his experimental art project in order to make it more… how you say…transgressif) to discover that spammers had been working overtime while I slept off the ridiculously huge dinner with which I’d previously stuffed the Twisty physique at Ranch 616, home of South Texas cuisine.
At Ranch 616, I may as well tell you, South Texas cuisine means “a quarter of a ton of smoked meat.” Despite the fact that my stomach lining threatened to call the police, I ordered the South Texas Mixed Grill, which contained, I shit you not: a barbecued chicken breast, a wad of sliced smoked flank steak the size of a softball, a smoked quail, several pounds of smoked poblano mashed potatoes, two smoked heads of bok choy, a limb of smoked rosemary, and a smoked passel of assorted smokes. I mean vegetables. All this came on the heels of a plate of fried oysters and calamari, which were not terribly smoked, but which were perfectly gorgeous, with both avocado and chipotle dip.
How I love biting into a fried oyster! The initial crunch delights the tooth while the barely-warm bi-valve corpse satisfies the epicurean’s unceasing craving for the molluscoidean ooze of the briny deep.
Anyway, the spammers I was telling you about left over 200 spammy comments—all beginning with the heartwarming “Fasinating site! I’m ading you to my favurits!” but soon devolving into the depressing “Hot teen peenis!”—-in my moderation queue. I was willing to wade through these things when their number amounted to less than 50 a day, but this, my young onions, will not do. It will not do at all. I was hoping to not have to resort to such brutally exclusive tactics, but it looks like Registration Day is upon us.
To those blamers whose brilliant commentary is indispensable—and that’s everyone who isn’t a dick-wagging 20-something who thinks he’s smarter than me—I appeal to your sense of decency and justice, and beg you to register using the handy link which should now appear in the lower right corner of the title bar (if you are using IE despite my stern and vigorous warnings, the tab might appear if you mouse over the lower right corner of the title. Maybe). The blog will send you a password, whereupon you can, if you wish, set up one of those user profiles with fake information and all that rot. This, if all goes according to plan, will keep you (even you, Mandos) out of moderation, and will send the spam to hell.
This registration crap is new to me, so if there are any problems, don’t keep’em to yourself. Not that you would.