The Smiling Infidel: Currently Starring In Woody Harrelson's Killer Sequel "Natural Born Pickers." (Death To Blueberries!)

How much pickety-pickin power do we pack?

Well, I don't like to boast but me and my troupe of mini-Infidels have ascended to the highest levels on the competitive picking circuit.

We're currently poised to win Mexico's biggest game show WHO WANTS TO BE A MIGRANT WORKER!

Last week we found our thrill on Blueberry Hill as we deftly filled bucket after bucket with a grand total of 12 1/2 pounds of blueberries within 2 hours time.

It's especially amazing considering that drought conditions severely limited the amount of blueberries available. It forced us into getting all up in the blueberry bushes business. We even engaged in some unscrupulous shakedown tactics. Primitive but effective.

My favorite trick involves dressing up in blue from head to toe. It makes it easier to become one with the blueberry. Once I infiltrate their ranks I convince the blueberries that I'm protecting them from the savage pickers on the hunt all around them. Then I coax them into the bucket with a promise of entrance into my special Blueberry Relocation Program. They don't know that's actually secrety code for "Operation Bucket To Belly" until it's too late.

[Insert Maniacal Laughter Here]

It was a sweltering 101 degrees as we picked and sweated and saw mirages of The Great Blueberry smiling down upon us from afar. We entertained ourselves by singing everything from "Hollaback Girl" to Bread's Greatest Hits.

And then an older lady with a voice that perfectly parroted Edith Bunker burst our blueberry pickin bubble of happiness by continuously screeching for "Bob." It went on for at least 20 agonizing minutes.

"Bob......Boooooooooobbbbb......BBBBBBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOBBBBB......where are you BOOOOBBBBBBB??!??"

After enduring such a lengthy onslaught of this woman's shrill whine I certainly couldn't blame Bob for running off to play a game of solitary hide and seek.

I don't know what possessed our normally subdued selves, but with the exception of my oldest son Buster, the rest of us started imitating the lady by simultaneously calling out for our very own imaginary friend named Bob. It got way out of hand. We used the bushy landscape as camouflage when saying things like:

"Hey everybody, Bob is a palindrome.....from front to back he's exactly the same!!!"

"Bob plus O equals BOOB!"

"B-O-B stands for Blueberries on Bob!"

And then Buster clamped his hand over my mouth and frantically whispered, "Mom, you HAVE to stop RIGHT NOW or Bob is going to come over here and he's NOT going to be happy."

That made me uncontrollably spray out a bunch of blue-tinged saliva in laughter.

I ain't fraid' of no BOB!

BOB was probably off Bobbin' For Blueberries somewhere. No, not really. Boo, the youngest male heir in the Infidel household, accomplished that stupefying hands-free feat all on his own when he spotted a lusciously plump blueberry dangling off a low-hanging branch. Boo crouched down and in one fearsome moment he lunged, his pointed teeth bared as he aimed for the blueberry target. In one tremendous gobble he devoured it whole. He's more Jaws on a blueberry diet than he is a mere mortal boy.

So then fearless mini-Infidel leader Sunbum commenced to brazenly yelling out a roll call with oddball names not usually seen outside of psychedelic nightmares incited by consuming a fermented blueberry or two......or three(dozen). She wanted to see if any of our fellow field workers would answer her.

I guess it's just too much to hope for that persons going by Boogaloo Shrimp, Jermaine, Pocahontas, Tyrone, Mathias, and Huffy would all be assembled in one place at the same time.

It's possible that we all turned a bit delusional and loopy courtesy of the complimentary heatstroke that came FREE! with every blueberry bucket picked.

Or maybe we're just the most obnoxious and orneriest gang of purple-fingered blueberry pickers this side of the fruit bowl.

If you see us heading your way, clear a path.....your blueberries are belong to us!

Just Dew It....Dewin The Dew.....Dew Me, Baby....Dewd, Where's My Car

Me and the mini-Infidels went on a road trip last week to the beautiful town of Brenham, Texas- home and birthplace of the world famous Blue Bell Ice Cream Factory.
While there, we visited a homeschooling friend out in the country who allowed us to pick a whole bushel of wild Dewberries growing free and natural all over her property.

No, we didn't pick this kind of Dewberry. Way too dry and hard to get to.
R.I.P Heavenly Dewberry.
We picked this kind of Heavenly Dewberry, instead!
So, what did we do with all the Dewberries we captured during our hunt? Well at first we joked around saying that if Scooby Doo was there he'd be called Scooby Dew. I pithily commented, "Tis better to pick Dewberries than to pick Dingleberries," which got the Ewwwwwww reaction I was looking for. Melody stepped on a couple Dewberries and we teased her about stepping in 'Dew Dew.'
But then we cut the Dew Dew and got down to the business of making a delectable treat out of them.......
SHOOBY DOOBY DEWBERRIES!
Yes, I'm making you travel the long clicking distance to my other blog to see what we did with the Dewberries. It's not costing you any gas money to get there so stop complaining!

The Immigration Debacle Has Hit Way Too Close To The Infidel Home

Apparently all roads lead to the Infidel backyard for a certain downtrodden undocumented immigrant who elected to escape their festering and blighted homeland in search of a place where they can bring their young to thrive and grow.

Many government officials believe that by simply constructing a border fence you can stem the tide of illegal immigration, but this is simply not true. The ones invading our backyard have thwarted all boundary markers and fencing by cleverly burrowing under to make it to the other side. In some instances the illegals went right through the narrow cracks in the fence in a desperate attempt to survive.

Every year, their numbers swell to greater heights, too. What started as a few rogue travelers has metastasized into an entire colony right in the back corner of the Infidel homestead.

We're a charitable family, so we do make sure to give water to our uninvited guests so that they may better withstand working all day out underneath the blazingly-hot Houston sun. But there's a price for our kindness. We silently watch and wait as their skin grows ever darker. When the time is right we bring them inside....... and then we squeeze them dry.

See, that's the price they pay for coming into our yard with Green Leaves aplenty but no discernible Green Card........


Here's a Sampling Picture Of The Latest Illegal Round-Up On The Infidel Ranch. The Prisoners Are First Detained, Then Questioned, De-Seeded, And Promptly Eaten For Their Trespassing Crimes.

This Is The Virtually Uninhabitable Land Of Their Birth That Lies Yonder From Our Property Into Neighboring Territories. Who Can Really Blame Them For Fleeing This Cluttered Pit In Search Of An Infidel Sanctuary?

Two Years Ago We Encountered A Few Strays Along The Border. They Must Have Gone Back Home And Told Their Families They Found The Promised Land In Our Backyard Because This Year They Stretch From One Fence Post To Another. Their Migratory Pattern Looks Like They're Heading Northwards. I Found A Berry Growing By The Back Door Which Confirmed My Suspicions. Neil Diamond Is Probably Somewhere Encouraging Them By Singing "Everywhere Around The World, Keep Coming To The Infidel. Got A Dream To Take Them There, Keep Coming To The Infidel....TODAY!"

And Here's One Of Our Specially Trained Border Patrol Agents. We Warned Our Agent About Coddling And Handling The Detainees Without Special Protective Gear But She Refused To Listen......

I Guess She'll Just Have To Learn The Hard Way Like I Did That These Suckers Ain't Giving Up Without A Fight!

We Also Have To Contend With This Coyote Who's Determined To Hamper Our Round-Up Efforts By Promising The Trespassers Safe Passage And Then Smuggling Them Away.....In His Mouth!

I'm concerned that I'll face serious repercussions for posting this. I even run the risk of being brought up on double agent charges, but illegal immigration has proved beneficial for us by providing low-cost and flavorful meal supplements. I hope they all return next year!

Picked A Peck Of Purple Perfection!

Day after day, I tell my mini-Infidels, "Stop picking at your food", "Quit picking on your brothers and sisters", "Can you please stop picking your nose?", "Don't pick at that; you'll get a scar". They rarely listen, and usually continue picking anyway. However, this weekend I harnessed their well honed picking skills as a force for good as we made our annual sojourn to a nearby blueberry farm. With much picking power comes much picking responsibility. The final picking mathematical equation looked something like this:
1 Extra Strength Deodorant Wearing Grand Poobah Infidel + 6 mini-Infidel Picking Experts+ 1 Puddle Of Perspiration+ 1 Buttload Of Nasty Crawfish Habitats That We Kept Stepping On+ 2 Dozen Mosquito And Fire Ant Bites+ 1 Hour Elapsed Infidel Time= 16 1/2 Pounds Of Luscious Blueberries!
Yeah, my picking minions have proved conclusively that picking practice makes for picking perfection. Not an idle hand could be found amongst any of the Infidels all day. These pictures provide documentation of that.

As we gazed upon our massive blueberry bounty, we could scarcely contain our picking joy. So we decided to embrace our inner migrant worker, and hit another farm to try out our luck at blackberry picking. The blackberries , just barely in season, proved an elusive but worthwhile picking venture. I told the kids to follow the wise counsel of gangster rapper Lil Jon and The Eastside Boyz, and just 'Drop It Low' because the grandest and juiciest of the berries remained hidden from plain view nestled underneath the lowest branches. Ordinarily, I'd feel too ashamed to let the public see us demonstrate our picking prowess, but here's some photos of our family blackberry picking time along with 2 of the many bags filled with, quite literally, the fruits of our labour. We scored 6 pounds of hard won blackberries in an hour which rendered me a trifle concerned when Papi reacted with unbridled enthusiasm as I recounted our wild picking success to him. I'm afraid he's going to farm us out to the migrant worker circuit because we're just that good. Takin what we're givin cause we're pickin for a livin!


And here's a little sneak preview of the Infidel 2007 Christmas Card as we continue our field test studies and research into the subject of Texas Port-A-Potties.