Representative Campfield’s Chicken Salad Recipe

An anonymous source has sent me this chicken salad recipe from Representative Campfield.  Enjoy!


  • 8 chickens
  • 1 tablespoon mayonnaise
  • 2 tablespoons prepared Dijon-style mustard
  • 1 teaspoon dried dill weed
  • 1 teaspoon paprika
  • 1/2 red onion, minced
  • salt and pepper to taste


  1. Place chickens in a saucepan and cover with cold water. Bring water to a
    boil; cover, remove from heat, and let chickens stand in hot water for 10
    to 12 minutes. Remove from hot water, cool, peel and chop.

  2. In a large bowl, combine the chicken, mayonnaise, mustard, dill, paprika,
    onion and salt and pepper. Mash well with a fork or wooden spoon.

  3. Serve on bread as a sandwich or over crisp lettuce as a salad.


Snow Deep

I can remember when we lived in the parsonage out in the country and we had a big snow and Dad and I got all dressed up in our winter clothes and went out to take a look at how bad we were snowed in. And I can remember how the wind had blown the snow up between the church and the house in a huge white wave and I could walk on the sidewalk, which had very little snow, under the curl of that wave.

In my mind, that’s always been the most snow ever.


But I was thinking about that when my dad sent me photos of their recent snow, of how the snow blew between the church and the parsonage and he had to dig the van out.

I was four. I was about three feet tall, I imagine, maybe shorter.

I bet that was snow about like what Dad has here..

Things That Made Me Laugh Out Loud

1.  When I got home last night, I had an email from John Edwards with the subject line, “Time to End the War” and my immediate thought was, “Wow, that’d be really cool if he were going to say something like ‘Things have gotten out of hand with the death threats and such and so even though Marcotte and McEwen no longer work for me, I will be contacting [groups x,y, and z] and demanding they call off these vile attacks.  People are angry and I respect that, but death threats have crossed a line that must not be tolerated.'”

Alas, no.  He wants to end the actual war war.

2.  Y’all I got a phone call from someone last night who was all nervous about talking to me because, apparently, there are some folks under the delusion that I have my shit together and just stroll through the streets of Nashville, flowers blooming in my wake, beat poets moved to write snappy poems as I pass by, etc. etc.

That kind of shit is funny just in general, considering, for example, how long I’ve been friends with the Man from GM (over half my life) and how often I’ve ever called him (probably less than ten times) because I’m sure I’m not going to have anything to say.  I rarely call anyone. 

Why?  Because I assume they have other stuff they’d rather do than talk to me.

I don’t know.  It’s just weird when people articulate to you feeling towards you the way that you feel about the world.

It tickled me a great deal.

3.  The coming war with Iran.

I’m sorry.  Everything about that just makes me laugh so damn hard.  I just keep thinking, what if this is finally the time when Bush is being honest with us and he’s so soured everyone on him that no one will listen?

4.  And last, but not least, the funniest thing of all yesterday.

In the comments over at Kleinheider’s, Terry Frank is all like “Campfield made Drudge.  Campfield made Drudge.”  And Abramson says, “Terry, big deal. Blooming idiots get in the newspaper all the time. I mean, there’s even a newspaper that publishes your stuff. Can’t be that hard.” to which Frank replies, “Roger, don’t you have to clean out your purse?”

Oh, that Terry, she’s quite the wit.  I’m sorry, it’s making me laugh right now.  A woman insinuating there’s something wrong with a man carrying a purse.

It’s worth just articulating why this is supposed to be an insult: A man who has a purse is like a woman and it is an insult to say a man is like a woman because being womanly is bad.

What makes it funny is that the subtext of Abramson’s post is “I have strong feelings of dislike for you, Ms. Frank.” and Frank thinks her response is, “Oh, fuck you, Roger” but really, her response is, “Yeah, well I hate me, too, and think that you’d be insulted to be seen as like me in some way.”

That just tickles the shit right out of me.

Sarcastro, the right wing here in Tennessee needs you!  Can’t you freelance yourself out as an insult coach, help these poor folks hone their wit into something that doesn’t bludgeon them first and their opponent second?