TC the Terrible

Forgive me for making fun of a man of God, but I just can’t help myself. TV preachers are a dime a dozen, and back in the days of Jim Baker and Jimmy Swaggert the gig paid pretty well too. Rev. Charles is just trying to jump on the same gravy train.

His approach is unique to say the least. I give him points for honesty. Other than that I’m quite sure he’s pissing off the Big Guy for representin’. See, cause this right here, is a ministry that’s about money. That’s why right here in Looooke it says that right here, needs to have the stock market pages from a newspaper as the back drop, right here. ‘Cause with these lips making the suction, right here, everything is gonna work outs.

It’s been a blessing today. Right here.

One of the other big events of last week was getting to eat at the Waffle House. For all of the class and culture that is available in the DC area we are way short on greasy spoon joints.

Take the meal pictured above. Where in this town can you get eggs covered in cheese, toast dripping in real butter, and hash browns that are scattered, smothered, chopped, diced, and peppered? For the Waffle House virgins out there that means my hash browns were loaded with cheese, tomatoes, ham and hot peppers. To top things off the coffee was the best I’ve had in months.

Granted, my waitress was short all of her front teeth and I could smell her before I saw her. But what the hell, you have to make some sacrifices to get real food.

I missed the big snow storm in DC, only to get caught up in a flood.

Tampa Florida is a lousy city to visit when there’s a monsoon going on. But there’s no way I’m going to be in Tampa and not get down to Ybor City. For those of you that don’t know, Ybor City is the historic/tourist district of Tampa. It’s got a rich history of resistance to various Cuban governments going back to the 1880′s. There’s tons of great Cuban food joints, and bars out the ass. Not that any of those things really matter in the grand scheme of things.

What really matters is Ybor City is one of the few places in the U.S. of A. where a guy can buy hand rolled cigars. As in hand rolled right in front of your very own eye balls. I’d have taken a picture of the scrawny old man that rolled mine, but the way he freaked the hell out over my cell phone ringing I decided it might be best to just pay my tab and get the hell out. No telling how hard he might have snapped if he thought I was trying to steal his soul with my evil cell phone camera.

I picked up 18 premium hand rolled stogies and am as happy as a puppy with two peckers right now.  This is going to be a good weekend around the family fire pit.