Botendaddy split to the coast – no forwarding address


Botendaddy and the Boten-daughter have split for the coast.

Sourdough and Chowder?

Peace be the Botendaddy


If you aren’t trained and prepared, don’t run in extrême heat.

I found this article in Scientific American:

Too Hot to Handle by Caitlyn Zimmerman

I am a genetic freak. I hate hot weather. No joke, temperatures above 45 Fahrenheit (No Metric you shitty Jacobins!) are uncomfortable 😣 for me.

america arid bushes california
Photo by Pixabay on

But I can tolerate heat that would kill most people. When I was in Iraq 🇮🇶 (Just me, only I was there. Not the entire U.S. military, allies and civilian population. It was all me!) Temperatures ranged up to 123 degrees Fahrenheit (But not in Brumaire – no Bonapartiste Metric).

brown primate hanging on tree
Photo by Cesar Aguilar on

When I was on base, I would run three nights a week ( I ran at midnight when there were no night missions. The big bases had half-marathons 5k’s 10k’s — a sign we had been there too long.)

white crane bird
Photo by David Dibert on

I would go on patrols with 100 pounds of equipment all day and night. (Taller people’s ballistic plates weigh more) I drank water constantly. I only felt heat exhaustion once after being out of the gate for more 24 hours.

At any rate, I run all year long: sub-zero in January, deep snow in February, 98 degree Fahrenheit July days with extrême humidity (Pronounced humility — like chimney (Pronounced chimley)).

I’m larger than most people. I’m low body fat even at 235 pounds. That has nothing to do with it. I’ve only ever seen super-skinny people go down from heat stroke.

In other words. You have to get used to running in the heat. Don’t run long distances at first. Drink water before you run. Build up slowly. Carry water with you. Don’t commit to a race where you aren’t ready for the heat yet or you will over-extend yourself. If you feel sick, stop.

Even if you’ve run in the heat before, May and June are dangerous. You haven’t had time to adapt.

Accept the reality that heat and humidity are dangerous. If you aren’t ready, don’t do it. Train yourself, drink water. (Only moronic shit-heads say ‘hydrate’)

If you have any other conditions, see your licensed medical professional.

You also may not genetically ever be able to run long distances in heat and humidity, so enjoy running within your limits.

Peace be the Botendaddy


Review: ‘Autumn’ by T.E. Hulme

  1. “A touch of cold in the Autumn night—

I walked abroad,

And saw the ruddy moon lean over a hedge

Like a red faced farmer.

I did not stop to speak, but nodded,

And round about were the wistful stars

With white faces like town children.”.


Late Autumn

Autumn by T.E. Hulme

from Man in the Poetic Mode p. 100, McDougal, Littell, Evanston Illinois, 1971, publishers, Joy Zweigler, editor

T.E. Hulme was one of England’s Great War poets. He died in 1917 when struck by a shell while deep in thought.

Hulme captures the melancholy cool of Autumn with perfect reflection.

He brings us along on the lonely country walk with him.

Autumn is a feeling. It doesn’t have to represent death, but it can represent harvest and a necessary stage of ending when the crops fall into humus as we also must, before there can be a new beginning.

Autumn is cool, Autumn is a time for reflection. It is my favorite time.

Peace be the Botendaddy

P.S. If you fancy yourself a writer, get offline, get off the electronic reader, go to a real library or bookstore and read something you haven’t read before.

You’re a very weird person, Yossarian


“I was never looking to be Yossarian, I didn’t become Yossarian, I just was Yossarian.”

I said to my dad. But my dad wasn’t there. It was his Veterans’s grave marker and a photo of him and his airplane ✈️ in WWII.

I didn’t put up photos of him getting nuked at Alamogordo with his black lens, one mile across the desert 🌵 from a one kiloton atomic shell 🐚 that killed him and everyone in his unit from cancer or Leukemia within the next 5-30 years. No photos from Korea either.

I once held what appeared to be someone’s vertebrae and a shinbone in my bare hands during the war. I don’t remember how they got there, but it was out in the desert. Like Yossarian. That moment had a fatalistic, Camus-like feeling to it. It was precisely then, that I became unstuck in time.

The desert is limitless and eternal and makes everything seem of epic importance and rather at the same time of puny irrelevance.

I never listened, I never paid attention, I never followed orders… OK, I tried to. It just didn’t work for me. I could never stay awake either. I had no military bearing whatever the f@&k that means. I didn’t belong in the military, but every military needs someone like me.

As George Clinton once said: “I ran through hell without getting hot, I went to Vietnam 🇻🇳 without getting shot.”

I’m lucky 🍀. I can’t die. Soldiers in Iraq 🇮🇶 would ask me to ride in their truck (pronounced HMMVW) because I was so lucky. I walked into and out of several minefields in Bosnia without a scratch. I even found a minefield in Iraq near the Iranian 🇮🇷 border. I can’t die because of the ‘Botendaddy No Glory Theory’ I can risk everything and never be harmed because I would have glory and that, my dear readers is cosmically impossible.

Someone questioned the other day whether I was really a Veteran, online of course. I didn’t answer. I served in two Wars and for many now forgotten years and she was right: I’m not a Veteran and I never will be. Veterans are honorable, grizzled, heroic. I’m not honorable, I’m not grizzled or I wouldn’t shave my visage or run 🏃 10k’s and I’m not heroic, I just have unrealistic optimism. I don’t think anything bad can ever actually happen… until it does.

Existential art shot

My father died when I was 12. I always wonder where he went. Not in a real sense, but in an existential sense. In times of trouble I would ask: ‘where are you?’ Crazy people like me need that guidance, but I just had to make it up as I went along. Maybe you do too.

He deserved better. He was loyal and he got nuked for it. I learned enough wisdom from him for a lifetime, But I just couldn’t make use of it.

I got stuck at an airfield near Al-Kut for three days during an endless sandstorm. I lived on a concrete pad next to a T-wall. I spent the time reading 📖 James Fenimore Cooper’s The 🦌 Deerslayer. I was born in Cooperstown, by the way.

I guess I’m a bad guy. It’s Jerry Lewis Syndrome. That’s when everyone else likes something but you actively hate it. I hated Jerry Lewis. I thought he was non-funny like Lucille Ball. But everyone else said he was funny 😂. I hate Brussels Sprouts and people tell me that they taste good. The taste like 💩.

‘What would your friends say?.’ ‘I don’t have any.’ Answered Yossarian.

My readers are wonderful, beautiful sensitive people, they love fashion, running 🏃 , cooking 🍳 mountain climbing but I am absolutely certain that they have no idea at all what this post is about and that’s really OK.

Peace be the Botendaddy

Wind Chill is Phony

There is no such thing as wind chill.

When it’s 15 degrees with the wind blowing, it doesn’t feel like 3 below, it feels like 15 degrees with the wind blowing.

When it’s 90 degrees out, do we say it feels like 82 because the wind is blowing?

Cold feels cold, wind makes no difference. Wind chill just makes weathermen feel more dramatic. Stop it already.

Gentle Autumn Musings

Gentle friends and kind hearts.

As the cool winds gently blow into the Northeast, the leaves turn brown and the chestnuts ripen, a slight chill that fall beckons can be felt in the air, the faint scent of a distant smoky fire rises to great you as you walk on a leaf-covered wooded path with gentle forest creatures.

Yet I find myself in Southern Iraq….