I Don't Get It

A frivolous waste of space.

Tom Toles - you may go fuck yourself.

A Little Seasick

Light posting - I'm busy scaring the Iranians shitless today. I'm sure you understand.

Check out that bad boy behind me here. I flew that fucker in from Baghdad and, from what I understand, proved to be the most natural pilot anyone has ever seen. How hard can it be if the Cheer Captain can do it?

Anyway, I'm having the boys load it with a nuke and we're going out later to see what kind of hell we can raise around Tehran. Watch for me on the evening news.

A Clarification

Dylan raises an interesting question regarding my seeming lack of consistency regarding Giuliani in drag versus my penchant for playing "Lockdown."

It's quite simple, really.

Dick Cheney doesn't have to explain himself.

In short, I'm fucking this dog, you just hold the collar.

Secretary of State - Paul Lynde

Yes, this is still the leader for the Republican nomination. The one on the right.

Why don't we just run the fucking rotting corpse of Liberace up the flag pole and see who will salute that? Trust me, with a solid "man" sharing the ticket, you can elect a fucking stump. Didn't we prove that in 2000 and 2004? To put this fucking queen over the top, though, you're going to have to put an uber-macho man such as myself or Tom 'Magnum' Selleck in as VP and let me tell you, my firend, men like us are not a dime a dozen.

Time grows short, my minions. Save yourselves.

Draft Dick '08.

Bollito Misto alla Piemontese

A word of advice, my friend: never get into a pissing contest with a heavy drinker and never start swapping what I would consider dirty jokes with The Queen.

My mistake today was starting, only to have her go on and on with one crude remark after another.

Ex. Young David came home from school one day and found his pet chicken laying on the ground with his legs pointing straight up into the sky. When his father got home, he explained that the chicken has died and his legs were pointed up to Jesus in heaven. They buried the chicken and that was that. Two weeks later his dad came home from work and David ran up to him yelling, "Daddy, Daddy, we nearly lost Mommy today." "What?" his father replied. "When I got home from school, Mommy was laying on the bed with her legs pointing up in the air yelling, 'Jesus, I'm coming, Jesus I'm coming.' If it wasn't for Uncle Terry holding her down we would have lost her for sure!"

I'm telling you, the woman goes on and on with stuff I haven't heard in thirty years. I tried pawning her off on Dylan for awhile, but she, like most women, seemed drawn to my magnetic sexuality. Who could blame her

Yes, my Beefaholics, I hit HRH up for her favorite beef recipe, and she gladly obliged.

It looks like a humdinger.

Enjoy the fucking beef.

QE2's Bollito Misto alla Piemontese

INGREDIENTS:
2 1/4 pounds beef -- the cut used in Italy is shoulder; others suggests beef brisket
2 1/4 pounds neck or breast of veal
1 1/4 pounds calf's head (see note)
A veal's tongue, weighing 1 1/4 pounds
A chicken, weighing about 2 1/4 pounds
A cotechino weighing about 3/4 pound (see note)
2 carrots
3 ribs celery
2 onions, stuck with 2 cloves each
Salt

PREPARATION:
Continuing with the introduction, Though seven kinds of meat may seem like a lot, the variety is important because each compliments the others, producing a whole that is greater than the sum of the parts. You should include beef, veal, pork, chicken, tongue, zampone or cotechino, and feel free to add whatever other cuts of meat you feel might work. The pieces should be from older animals, because they will be more flavorful, and should also be large - this means that a good bollito misto is ideal for a convivial meal with friends, or for when you want to make something that will provide the wherewithal for several meals. In terms of cooking technique, preparing a bollito misto is straight forward: Bring a pot of lightly salted water to a rolling boil and add the beef, veal, chicken and vegetables (the hot water seals the meat; see below for timing).

Boil, separately, the tongue and zampone or cotechino, assuming you choose to include them.

Notes -- Calf's head: Though required by tradition, this is becoming difficult to find; should you choose not to include it, increase the beef and veal, or add a pound of lean pork instead. A cotechino is a pork sausage, available in Italian delicatessens; you can also use a zampone, which is a stuffed pig's trotter.

And finally, the recipe:

Fill a large pot with water sufficient to cover the meat. Lightly salt the water, add the vegetables, set the pot on the fire. Since you want the flavor to remain in the meat, wait until the water comes to a boil before adding the beef (the heat will seal in its juices). Reduce the flame to a simmer, and after about an hour, add the breast of veal, chicken, and calf's head (should you prefer not to use it, increase the quantities of beef and veal, or add a pound of lean pork -- this isn't piemontese, but the emilians do it.) In the meantime, set a second pot of lightly salted water on the fire, bring it to a boil, and begin simmering the tongue when you add the veal and chicken to the beef. If you are using a fresh cotechino or zampone set it in a pot of cold lightly salted water at this time (prick the cotechino all over, or loosen the string of the zampone first) and begin simmering it. If you instead buy precooked sausage, follow the instructions on the package. The meats will be done when they are fork-tender, this will take about an hour or slightly more from when you add the veal and the chicken to the beef. Come serving time, the meats should be arranged on a heated platter, sprinkled with a ladle of hot broth, and carved at the table (cut the tongue and the cotechino or zampone, into 1/2-inch slices). In addition to meats and condiments you will need vegetables -- again, variety is important. Seasonal variability will of course dictate your selection, but it should include at least onions, carrots and celery, boiled in or steamed over lightly salted water until are fork-tender; I would also include potatoes, and would serve the vegetables with olive oil, coarse sea salt (kosher will do), and unsalted butter for those who want them.

In addition to the sauces, you should consider is Mostarda d'uva, a jam-like condiment made from grape must that goes quite nicely with boiled meats, and is also surprisingly good with a selection of cheeses (you can substitute granulated honey in this case). Alas, the recipes I have seen all call for beginning with a gallon or more of grape must, an ingredient not easily available in most places. Nor is mostarda d'uva easy to find outside of Piemonte. However, if you have access to a well stocked delicatessen, you may be able to substitute Mostarda di Cremona, a distinctive sauce made by candying fruit with mustard seeds. As a final pair of condiments for your bollito, you may want some balsamic vinegar -- the Emilians generally do -- and also mustard and mayonnaise. Finally, don't forget to serve good Italian-style bread. In this discussion we have overlooked one very important point: In a festive Italian meal, a bollito misto alla piemontese would be served as a second course. What to serve as a first? Tortellini in broth would be perfect: Degrease the beef/chicken broth(1) (the broths from the tongue and the cotechino will be too greasy), and serve each of your guests a steaming bowl of broth with 8-10 good quality store-bought tortellini of the traditional meat-filled variety. The wine? A good moderately aged Barbera D'Asti would work quite well; it's a medium-bodied red wine with nice fruit and a fairly high level of acidity that will do a fine job of balancing the fats present in boiled meats and sausages. Other possibilities include a robust Dolcetto di Dogliani, for example Giovanbattista Gillardi's Dolcetto di Dogliani Cursalet (his Vigna Maestra is also very nice), or a good Bardolino, for example Corte Gardoni's Bardolino Superiore or Bardolino Classico le Fontane. Dessert?

The choice is up to you.

NOTE: This may be our high point on recipes. It can only go downhill for quality and complexity...perhaps for the best.

Regarding Spanking

Throughout the course of ones life, one finds oneself at times pondering that best left unpondered.

I'll be the first to admit that Dick Cheney's mind strays from time to time. It's not always shit and giggles running wars and ruining lives - leisure activities assist in keeping the mind honed to a razor sharpness.

I, for example, find relaxation in dressing up as a police woman and playing "Lockdown."

I'm sure there are some dead-enders and various types of your "gotcha" gamers who will tend to call this "wrong," "perverse" or "immoral" in some way, but I find it to be a healthy diversion from the stress of everyday life.

Since the wombat to whom I am wed refuses to participate, I've sought surrogates to act out the other side of the "Lockdown" equation. Dick Cheney's name, therefore, may or may not surface in the DC Madam case. It should not be misconstrued for that other than which it is -- a simple brief diversion from the weight of the world.

Either way, I am an innocent bystander caught in scurrilous lies.

My Friends May Refer to Me as 'Doc.'

Yes, I am officially a 'Doctor.' Mandingo may now go fuck his know-it-all self. I am his equal.

Little did I ever dream that the kid from Casper Community College would rise to such academic heights, but it has come to pass.

I may try to practice medicine on the side a bit, just to get my feet wet and figure out what goes where. I'm having the SS boys set up an "operating room" in one of the spare rooms here in the bunker. We'll work on the interns a little before inviting the general populace.

NOTE: To the filthy fucking Mormon hippies who felt Dick Cheney did little to merit such consideration, you may all go fuck yourselves.

A Resumption of Regularity

I'm back.

Things have never been better.

Of the Republican candidates for President, none stand without serious flaws. I am looking better and better with each passing day. To think that there is any way that I don't walk to the nomination is presumptuous spittle-spattle on the part of my many enemies. Dick Cheney will be the nominee.

As for the general election, one word - CAKEWALK. The defeatist democrat candidate will find him/herself bloodied on all fronts as me and my media friends make short work of this election.

A few housekeeping items:

My good friend Rich Little killed at the correspondent's dinner the other night. As I wrote a couple of months ago, nothing less was expected. I nearly developed an irregular heartbeat laughing at his keen wit. My favorite, "If you overdose on viagra, how do they close the coffin?" Priceless.

Dr. Mandingo says that my aortal blockage seems to be improving somewhat. I no longer black out when standing or attempting to sit upright for periods of more than 3 minutes in length. I can sit for 10-15 minutes now without slumping into a coma and for this we have modern medical science to thank.

Dylan has signed on for another term as my chief intern. I believe this will be his fifth.

'Jose Jiminez' hangs on for dear life over at justice. He's a scrappy little bastard.

Beef continues to reign supreme.

Windsurfer Alert

Jesus Christ, you're telling me that this son of a bitch is actually considered a serious presidential candidate in the Republican Party?

Why not just hand the keys to the White House over to Barrett Alabama, or whatever his name is, right now? We'll have nappy-headed hos running through the goddamn halls in no time.

Meanwhile, Mr. New England Elitist tries to woo the Dick majority by impressing us all with his hunting prowress.

Listen, asshole, nobody kills more of anything than Dick Cheney. Understand? I'm so feared in the fucking bird kingdom that they are now throwing themselves into the engines of my plane on my approach. You, meanwhile, claim to kill "varmints."

I fucking shot an old man in the face for a fucking beef recipe! Top that, motherfucker!

And he's a fucking Mormon. He's a fucking Mormon who is married to only one woman. He takes the only good thing about his fucking religion (assembly of a harem) and fucks it up. Jesus. Sounds like he's more of a Moron. Get it, Mormon - Moron? Alright, fuck it; it's not funny, but you understand what I'm saying?

Save yourselves.

Draft Dick '08.

Steak and Bacon Tournedos

As a young man, I worked for a short time in a business where a good number of comely young women were also employed. Temptation was always about for a virile young man with a head for sexual conquest. There were times when my job was the last thing on my mind as the pretty girls paraded themselves about in an attempt to catch my eye. My boss saw what was happening and gave me some advice, words of wisdom that day that I carry with me still:

Keep your dick out of the cash register.

Now my old friend Paul Wolfowitz finds himself in something of a pickle because he failed to follow those simple guidelines. It seems that Paul found himself a lady friend who agreed to do the dirty with him, but he had to provide her with career advancement in order for this relationship to continue.

Let's admit up front that Paul is not the most handsome man in the world. Certainly he will never be mistaken for Tom 'Magnum' Selleck on any occasion. Perhaps because of his looks, Paul has never been one to go out and birddog tail like some of us. I mean, I don't have to chase women - they tend to throw themselves at my overpowering virility. I am so virile, after all, that even my daughter bags chicks. Paul, however, lacks something in the manly machismo arena. He's something of a wet noodle, if you will.

He's also not very well-endowed. Trust me on this.

Some may want to draw some sort of parallel between Wolfie's situation and the pile of shit we caught that bastard Clinton in back in '98, two consenting adults and all of that bullshit. No good - completely different. For one, Clinton was married. Even if it was and is to a castrating butch woman who doesn't know her place, it's still his burden. Wolfie is a single man, free to play the field. Who here among us can honestly say that if we were in Wolfie's shoes that we would handle the situation any differently?

If I was as unattractive and "tiny"as Wolfowitz, then I would do whatever it took to corner the market on tail.

You would, too.

Admit it.

Okay, today we have a recipe from an evening with Wolfie.

I don't like dining with unmarried men. They tend to be somewhat unkempt in all things hygiene related. I'm not sure if this is a result of their bachelorhood or the cause of it. His apartment smelled like a mixture of old socks, Brylcream and a dead cat. After a couple of bottles of wine, however, we managed to get over the stench and force ourselves to eat this beef dish. Turned out to be not as bad as feared. I was drunk enough to ask for this recipe.

Enjoy the fucking beef.

Wolfie's Steak and Bacon Tournedos

INGREDIENTS
1 1/2 pounds flank steak, pounded to 1/2 inch thickness
unseasoned meat tenderizer to taste
10 slices bacon, cooked, but still soft
1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper to taste
1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
1/2 teaspoon seasoned salt
2 tablespoons chopped fresh parsley

DIRECTIONS
Preheat an outdoor grill for medium-high heat.
Score one side of the flank steak with diagonal cuts.

Season meat on both sides with tenderizer, pepper, garlic powder, and salt; lay flat, scored side down.

Sprinkle with parsley, and lay bacon strips lengthwise on steak, then roll up jellyroll style. Skewer with 8 evenly spaced wooden toothpicks.

Form 8 steaks by cutting in between toothpicks with a serrated knife.
Place steaks on preheated grill.

Cook for about 15 minutes, turning once, or to desired doneness.

Commie Sympathizers

Under a Dick Administration, these turncoats would choose between jail and deportation.

I don't have enough lifetime remaining to match wits with these multi-wife marrying, delusional cultists. No victory can be gained by engaging them in some little shell game of right and wrong.

You know the country is on the wrong track when Utah drifts too far left.

Draft Dick '08 to push back against these stoned-out hippies.

Eternity Update

I'm sure that many of you recall my little "situation" with the Dark Lord.

First, let me state that, no, I have no regrets at all regarding my decision. It was a choice that served me well for many, many years. After all, I went from Casper Community College to leader of the free world with relatively few obstacles. Don't act like you didn't think there were outside forces at play.

Well, as stated, now that I'm reaching what one might consider a moderate-to-late middle age, I've grown somewhat apprehensive regarding the prospect of an eternity in Hell, even if I've been promised the upgrade.

Reverend Moon finally got back to me with his findings and, according to him, for a $448 million "donation" to his church, I can buy my way out of the deal. Luckily, I happen to be worth $448 million - almost to the penny. It seems that I can buy my way out of Hell.

But, I've been thinking.

Do I really want to spend the $448 million?

Not really, no.

Do I want to spend eternity in Hell?

Not particularly.

So what to do.

Well, I came across this article recently. I met this guy a time or two and was never really impressed with him. He was all about 'forgiving' and 'loving' and bullshit that did nothing except reek weakness that your enemies would immediately exploit. There was nothing in his diatribe which I felt applied to me.

Now I undestand the church is considering him for sainthood. Aren't sainthoods based on miracles? I think I've got just the test for John Paul's case for sainthood - get Dick Cheney out of his deal with the Dark Lord. You do that, John Paul, and not only will you be a saint, but I'll get you the Presidential Medal of Freedom, just like Tenet.

Come on, JP II, don't puss out on me.

Failing that, I plan on writing a check to Reverend Moon while on my deathbed - hopefully very close to my final breath as I scribble my name one last time.

I think I've cornered this situation once and for all.

What?

What's the hubub?

I don't find this odd.

Not in the least.

If he steps out of line, I hit the 'Code Black' button.

Don't ask what that means, or I'll have to 'Code Black' your ass, as well.

About Goddamn Time

My friends, finally America is beginning to see the light.

Humbly, I accept your fawning praise, but refuse to consort with the types necessary to realize some type of "election win." Dick Cheney is not about "getting votes." Dick Cheney is about ruling.

I will be surprised only if I'm not elevated to some sort of President/King position well before election day.

Draft Dick '08.

Bringing Heat

Unfortunately, prior commitments kept me away from throwing out a traditional first pitch today as the national passed time gets underway.

I was quite the ball player during my days at the old CCC and still am the holder of multiple records, if I'm not mistaken. Fleet of foot, muscled to perfection, beautiful hair flowing in the wind, Dick Cheney could have been the best ever, but I had other priorities.

The years may have faded, but the skills remain strong. After throwing out the first pitch last year, a speedball using the special "Cheney-Grip," I was approached by an official with the Texas team who told me that never had a throw been clocked at such velocity. Well, then! I asked how fast, but he refused to reveal - probably from fear of embarassing his professionals.

"80?" I asked.

He just smiled.

"85?"

The official again refused to verify.

"You're not telling me I topped 90 mph?"

Nothing but a slight snicker.

I knew I was getting close.

"How near 100 was it?" I asked.

He just rolled his eyes.

That told me that not only had I been close to 100 on the radar, but that I had topped it.

Dick Cheney knows how to translate information when it comes in bits and pieces, how to distill it, break it down and then reconstruct it to form the truth. Trust me, I topped 100 easily according to this guy.

Unfortuantely, I didn't have the opportunity to top it this season, although I'm sure my devoted legion of fans nationwide left their games massively disappointed shortly after the first pitch because of no Dick Cheney.

Perhaps next year, my friends.

Perhaps next year.

The Road

Goddamn.

This is one bleak motherfucker.

I read this back in the dead of winter. It haunted me for weeks, perhaps even months after.

Never have I been shaken to my core like this.

Not many books have changed Dick Cheney and who he is, but I now live my life in a different way.

Can you imagine a world with no beef?

That's what McCarthy proposes here.

Sure, human flesh may be tasty in its own right and we may one day have a blog dedicated to fine human recipes, but for beef lovers, this book stands as our worst nightmare.

I have therefore taken the liberty to have the Corp of Engineers begin carving out vast caves in the Wyoming Rockies large enough to hold herds of America's finest beef.

Dick Cheney refuses to consider a beef-free future.

Hurt Feelings

I can't say that I'm not a little hurt by the fact that the National Cattleman's Beef Association offered its prime speaking engagement to the Cheer Captain and not a true purveyor of their offerings.

How can Beef be discussed in Washington D.C. without the involvement of Dick Cheney?

Goddamn, I love beef.

Well, I speak plenty, trust me. Dick Cheney doesn't have to go begging for speaking opportunities.

I'll be giving the commencement address at Brigham Young next month. Some motherfuckers apparently support America's defeat and are openly opposing my appearance. They may feel free to go fuck themselves. I only agreed to the gig because of my curiosity regarding their stance on multiple wives. I would gladly offer my endorsement to their batshit crazy ideas on religion if it meant I could add Miss Katherine Harris (aka Tits on A Pony) to my stable.

These reconstituted protests are growing tiresome and I feel like something must be done to set things right again. I'm thinking about something involving martial law, but that's going to take some jiggering.

Stay tuned.

A Personal Moment

After a day spent in the bunker considering the current situation within the ranks of this government, various falls from grace, etc., I believe that, for the first time, I may currently be the most popular member of the administration.

Dick Cheney has never been popular in any sense of the word.

Ever.

I am so overwhelmed that I think I can feel my heart beating.

Draft Dick '08.

Glory Awaits.

BBQ Beef Ribs

Enough with the charade.

It's time to come clean.

I am sick and goddamn tired of hearing charges of incompetence leveled at this administration. Sure, the Cheer Captain is an incompetent buffoon who, with any other surname, would be a night manager at a Denny's somewhere around Odessa, but for some of the rest of us - well, shit, enough already.

Let me tell you something - things are running beautifully. When this little experiment hit the ground running some six years ago, we could never have anticipated being this successful. It's like a fucking wet dream.

You say, well, it seems things are mighty rough for you fellows.

Hogwash.

What you are witnessing is the complete and utter destruction of the federal government as you and I and our children have known it. Good riddance. We had long range plans, sure, but never did we believe that they would be realized in such short order. I mean, look at the strokes of luck we've fallen into:

9/11 - A Godsend. Scared the living shit out of every fucking one of you, didn't it? People rolled over on that and we fucked them hard, let me tell you. All of the nuisance laws regarding 'personal rights' were pretty much voided on the spot. I would estimate that we saved 10-15 years of tough slogging through congress with bill after bill simply because of 9/11. Of course, that leads us to:

The War - Many, many good and decent American people lost vast amounts of money during the so-called 'New Deal.' Taxes, social security, more taxes - Jesus, it got to the point where a man of means was supporting entire villages of vagrants and outcasts with his hard-earned tax dollars. With good, solid no-bid deals done during wartime, we have been able to alleviate some of the suffering.

Scandals - Please, nobody could fuck up this much without some type of extraordinary effort. New Orleans? Hey, move to higher ground, Bojangles. Walter Reed? How about a little gratitude for the fact that Hezzbolah's not rolling Molotov cocktails right under your bed, you ingrates. Jesus, peppered with a little shrapnel and suddenly you become Martha Stewart. Show some goddamn backbone. Fired attorneys? Who gives a shit, they're fucking goddless lawyers looking to sue some poor businessman under the table. Fuck them. Scooter? Be quiet, he's almost forgotten.

What you are witnessing is historic and I want to continue this for at least eight more years. Remember, Glory Awaits America - Draft Dick '08. We'll make this look like a fucking tea party.

Today's recipe comes from none other than the Cheer Captain himself.

I don't recall the first time he served this, but I'm relatively certain it was the first time I dined on his "ranch." He serves the same damned thing every fucking time. I guess it's all he knows. But, it was tasty the first time or two, so I pass the recipe (stolen from his kitchen counter) to you.

Cheer Captain's BBQ Beff Ribs (Sic)

2 racks of beef back ribs (7 ribs per rack)
2 Tbsp. black pepper
1 Tbsp. ground oregano
1 Tbsp. paprika
2 tsp. celery salt
1/2 tsp. ground cayenne pepper

Combine all spices.

Rub over surface of ribs to coat well.
Preheat oven to 300°F.
Place ribs on a rack in a roasting pan. Add 1/2-inch of bourbon to bottom of pan.

Cover pan with foil and tightly seal edges.
Bake at 300°F for 2 hours.
Remove ribs from pan and place on grill over medium coals for 15 minutes.

Serve with your favorite barbecue sauce.
Cut between ribs to serve.

NOTE: I figured that by stealing this fucker, it would put an end to "rib night" on the ranch, but I was mistaken. Apparently he does this by muscle memory as they once again were served during my last trip to Texas. Worse, I was seated next to Condoleeza - something akin to being seated next to a porn star as she rams the bones into her mouth, oohing and ahhing with each thrust. Sickening slut.

Red Wine Steak

Holy fucking hell. What a confusing moment in which to be trapped.

I remember a time before this hellish age of communication when a man could live his life free from the fear of having his personal data strewn about like so much rubbish.

As a younger man, I was pulled over one late evening by a Wyoming state trooper. He determined that I was operating under the influence and ticketed me for such offense. I won't go into the details here about whether or not I was driving impaired, that's not important. A few weeks later, I was pulled over by a different Wyoming state trooper who, again, determined that I was driving under the influence. Again, my level of sobriety is not the issue here.

Instead, it's communications.

The State of Wyoming had no way to connect the two arrests as there was no system in place to do so. In both cases, I was treated as a first time offender. Let me say that if the second judge had knowledge of my first arrest, the penalty would have been much harsher and, in all probability, Dick Cheney would not be working in government today. For small things we can be thankful.

My point is that we have entered into an era of darkness. I currently have top people working on ways to undo this internet phenomenon that plagues our daily lives and return the world to a time of clarity and governmental privacy.

New motto: Dick Cheney: Building a Bridge to the 19th Century.

Today's recipe comes from a great Republican, Mr. Bruce Willis.

Perhaps second only to Tom 'Magnum' Selleck in the sweepstakes to be the Republican heir to Dick Cheney's virility, a race that may be too close to call. Standing between those two hunks of manhood leaves one weak in the knees, however.

Trust me.

Bruce served this delicious meal on a crisp Autumn night in his Rocky Mountain hideaway. We have been long time friends, as you may or may not know. Not many people are keen to the fact that Dick Cheney made a guest appearance in the last Die Hard movie. It's true. I played the part of a government official. Some have said that I'm not photogenic, but those fuckers have never been in a Bruce Willis picture, have they, so what the fuck do they know? Motherfuckers.

Anyway, Bruce really knows his meat and can throw it out there with the best of them. He concocted this tasty dish and it absolutely melted in my mouth. Never have I enjoyed a piece of meat more. I'll admit that the spirits were flowing and that I probably had no business driving back to my room that night, but I made it safe and sound. No harm, no foul, I say.

I had to call later and ask, but Bruce was kind enough to share this recipe and now you have access to the meat of a real American movie star.

Enjoy the fucking beef.

Bruce Willis' Red Wine Steak

1 pound sirloin steak, cut in strips

2 cups dry red wine

2 tablespoons chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley

2 teaspoons dried oregano

1 teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon ground black pepper

1 teaspoon minced garlic

1 tablespoon vegetable oil

2 cups sliced mushrooms

1/2 cup chopped onion

1 tablespoon cornstarch

2 tablespoons water

Cooked noodles for accompaniment

Place steak into bowl or glass dish.

Mix together red wine, parsley, oregano, salt, pepper and garlic.

Pour over steak and marinate for 8 hours in the refrigerator.
Heat oil in a large skillet; sauté mushrooms and onions until soft.

Remove vegetables from skillet and set aside.
Remove steak from the marinade; reserve marinade and set aside.

Brown in the same skillet.

Add marinade, mushrooms and onions to the skillet; simmer for 30 minutes over low heat.
Meanwhile, prepare noodles according to package directions; drain.
Remove steak and vegetables from pan.

In a small dish, dissolve cornstarch in water.

Add to the pan juices in skillet.

Cook until thick, stirring constantly.

Return steak and vegetables to the pan.
Serve over noodles.

Garnish with extra parsley.
Makes 4 servings.

NOTE: You ladies in Aspen watch out next October - Bruce and I go out birddogging tail on occassion and you just may find yourself sharing time with the two stars of Die Hard: Something or Other.