Some folks call it fat lighter, but they are faggots. Faggots, you see, being Old English for logs of wood. Never mind. I call it lighter knot.
The heart of pine sappy impregnated with nitrotoluene shit. What they make gunpowder out of in Woodbine. When they're not blowing themselves up in the process. At any rate, a most conflagraceous material.
So we had an actual Deep Freeze last night in Florida. Meaning 28 degrees, by my nipple erection reckoning. The Velocibride makes me buy firewood (yes, I actually have a fireplace) so that we can warm our boogers. Fine. Now here is the rub:
She wants to start the fire with a chemical log. I got nothing against chem logs. All you need here 354 days of the year. Pretty, burn up clean, would that I could have cleaned up that horrid whore slaying in so clean a fashion. But.
There is always a but.
Chemical logs are a pussy way to build a fire. I like taking a tiny strip of lighter knot and coaxing a fire. It's a testosterone thing.
Like when I was at Cat's the other day. Sitting around the fire, and Georgia and Miss Even Keel are trying to stoke the fire. They're mashing green logs on top of the embers, creating a smoky mess, and generally being nuisances about it. And none of the men exhibited any machismo, and fix it, which I thought was strange, fire being a manhoss thing.
So I bitched a little bit, and rebuilt the logs so that it caught fire. Because, as I mumbled under my breath, fires are all about levels. And updraft. You have to build layers of wood so the updraft makes the wood catch. Why do you think high rises full of retirees burn so sweet? Levels!
So I get the fucking thing burning, then Acidman walks over and drops a log on top of my pyre, then hooks his thumbs under his armpits and brags about his firebuilding prowess. Damned pudknocker.
Anyway, I like lighter knot. And when I'm in an old house, and see paneling made of heart of pine, I think to myself you poor bastards are going to roast when this thing catches fire. Why don't you just panel your house in gasoline?
That's about it. Besides, I'm getting tired of giving away this free content. I should be eking brain droplets out of my ear into glass vials and selling it like crack. You'd buy it. I know you would. Pathetic velocijunkies.