.01

I'm almost ready to ring the bell.

After the past seven weeks of healing, resting, rehabbing, and otherwise being confined to a low weight limit, I guess the time to punch a clock is imminent. It's not like I am ready and willing to walk across the parking lot to that trailer park in the sky; however, bills gotta get paid. What I do know is this: Act II has to count for something. Working like a government mule for the next 20-30 years (yes, my original retirement date is my 75th birthday but I don't see that desire to manage other people's crap that long anymore). Plus, standing next to the smokers with a table and Square account doesn't seem the best way to enjoy life after the swamp or wherever I end up toiling for the Man. Even then, I believe that my wife will want me to turn in my badge, ditch the coveralls, and surrender that parking space in front of the storeroom which I walk from at least twice per shift in favor of the condo in Ocean Springs before either of us loses cognition or the power to live out deferred dreams.

I like money, but I also like my new taste of freedom.

I also like vacation time. 

What is so special about the .01 that you see in the title line?

That number represents my PSA score. In other words, I am 99.99% cancer-free! In a few months, it should become goose eggs across the board with occasional monitoring from my urologist. Without a prostate (read my last post), that number is to be expected. 

What does that mean moving forward?

Well, those lifestyle changes I implemented seven weeks ago will hopefully stick long term. That means more water, less Dr. Pepper and Miller Lite; reaching my daily step count without having to borrow the neighbor's dog because I don't feel like walking; and now, readjusting that sleep schedule back to night life. I also need to reach out to all of you at one point or another - block party, anyone? - and remember that once upon a time before life got in the way that I was somewhat of a fun guy to be around. Even more importantly, continuing to be a lifelong learner means squat if I don't put the new-to-me knowledge to practice and share in that "reach one, teach one" kind of way. 

Not just Black knowledge but also the very winnable war against prostate cancer👆🏿

One thing I definitely appreciate AND respect is the fact that so many guys have reached out and said that I have been the catalyst in getting their prostates (and other parts) checked out. Although that Canadian rapper told us he was only here for a good time not a long time, our loved ones would like for us to stick around a bit longer. 

Once again, thanks to everyone who had a kind word, thought, prayer, conversation via text, phone, quick road trip, or any of the social media platforms I still use, and all of the support given to my family. The love was felt and reciprocated at least the same way y'all sent it to me. I often remark about a mustard seed of faith carrying me a long way through life's trails and tribulations, yet I also have had a gang of people standing in the intercessory gap for me in this war we won together: Don't take this or yourselves lightly at all. 

Anyway, may God bless each and every single one of you. 

I'm out✌🏿

Give Us This Day Our Daily Bread

Read the question and answer about the daily bread. While we are taught to think of it in the literal sense, this explanation provides a different view:

Is it true that in the Lord's prayer the original word for daily bread is "epiousios" and as that word is unique to the New Testament and appears literally nowhere else in Greek literature, we don't really know the true translation of it? The word appears twice, once in Matthew 6:11 and one in Luke 11:3. It doesn’t mean “daily bread.” It’s an adjective to describe bread, seen nowhere else, which suggests it’s a neologism (a word made up for the occasion) or a legmenon (an unusal word that shows up only one time — (technically twice, since it’s in the same story told in Luke and Matthew). It does not mean “daily.” There are normal words in Greek to indicate “daily.” No, it’s more complicated. epi means upon, or over or super (as an intensifer) ousious is about being and existence, so it would probably be more accurate to translate the “daily” “our daily bread” as “super substantial” or maybe “essential” bread.

This article is pretty good plain-langauge reference on who write the canonical Gospels, and when. it’s from a Catholic source, but I suspect it would be OK with mainstream Protestant scholars.

(Disclaimer — Biblical studies are enormously complex, and I’m no Bible scholar, even though I read the whole thing — and it’s really a library of many books from different times and source — and did spend a few years studying it and a lifetime appreciating it.)

I'm Leaving Here Without Something

I know one thing: I'm leaving here without something. 

Three weeks ago, I underwent a radical prostaterectomy (big word for some - I'll go in depth later in the text) and it's pretty safe to say that I am leaving here without something. During that time, my body has never experienced so much pain in so many places and I've not remembered a period of my adult life when I had so little control over situations. From a series of spasms that could very well have broken me to having my mobility reduce me to walking up and down the driveway without getting tired, the mess that cancer leaves behind tried to drop me off like Tyrese Haliburton during this year's NBA playoffs. 

No sir, I ain't going.

What am I leaving here without? 

A number of things namely my prostate and pelvic lymph nodes, among other things. In exchange, I received five incisions on my stomach and the discomfort of a literal butthurt existence of sitting on bleachers for the course of my daughter's swim season. Externally, I look cool as a fan - I've even lost weight - yet the internal stuff is why I have really gotten to know my recliner.

So...what happened during the prostaterectomy? I'd share my surgeon's notes but some of the details are too personal for public consumption. Rather, here's a synopsis: I was intubated, knocked out for the three hours or so it took the robot and surgeon to make the five incisions on my belly, and when I woke up, I no longer had my prostate, and my pelvic lymph nodes exited the chat to be further tested. Instead, I had a catheter for fifteen incredibly painful days which resulted in me doing everything in my power to stay home.

I know we're in June and November is coming, but fellas...know your nuts not just the busted ones 😁

Where does that leave me today?

As I mentioned earlier, I don't have to wear the bag on my leg or tote a larger one at bedtime or up and down the driveway and the short distance from the house to two, three, four, or five in either direction of my front door. (Fun perk about living in the dead center of the subdivision is seeing life happen without getting out of my lawn chair.) I'm still walking for short distances throughout the day, and the one day I decided to venture out for a few more steps, Park Plaza Mall aged me twenty years without entering a single store! 

Each day is different, and as a cancer survivor - yes, I'm claiming it - I've really learned to appreciate the smallest of wins such as tying my own shoes, the glow of morning sunlight, climbing in and out of the truck, grilling chicken thighs and pork chops; and most importantly, the time to reset my body, mind, spirit, and priorities. Thank you all for your prayers and although the visits haven't quite been constant to the point of staging the house, you are certainly loved and will always hold a place of gratitude with me. Special shout out to my familial coaches Dad and Chastity for making me climb out of the recliner and live a seminormal existence; Alan and Aston for living the Kendrick Lamar line and popping up before the nephew's AAU games; Jason and Michelle for mowing my weeds; the Saint Mark, Mount Zion, Greater Friendship, and all of the church families who have put me on their prayer lists; Heath for the beer and cookies; the numerous phone conversations with cousins; those Arcwood hooligans [I know, we're always Rineco cowboys new corporate name be damned] and everyone who has reached out at any point in the past three weeks. I cannot tell what to do, just go as God directs you.

Lastly:  Be blessed, be safe, be good to each other, and have a marvelous week! 

The Fight For My Life

2025 is supposed to be the Year of Momentum, right?

I took the first step forward, and all of a sudden it since feels like a gut punch from Iron Mike. I know it's not supposed to be this way, and once I made the first move forward, then why does it seem like I am catching fades from all sides and some from directions I did not expect? I guess this is one of those storms that keep on raging in my life, to paraphrase the great gospel singer Douglas Miller; honestly, sometimes it's hard to tell the night from day.

To view the video of Douglas Miller singing this poignant track that is heard in nearly every Black church service at least one Sunday a month, click on the link. If it isn't being sung, your house of worship may have a lousy singer like myself with a microphone. [Mt. Zion knew I couldn't sing, but Deacon Ced tried nonetheless. I'm not giving Saint Mark the notion of bad singing that the media team would desire to boo me off the stage like the Apollo.]

For those who really want to sing along, the accompanying lyrics are below:

Though the storms keep on raging in my life

And sometimes it's hard to tell the night from day

Still that hope that lies within is reassured

As I keep my eyes upon the distant shore

I know He'll lead me safely to

That blessed place He has prepared

But if the storms don't cease

And if the winds keep on blowing in my life

My soul has been anchored in the Lord

Ooh, ooh

I realize that sometimes in this life

We're gonna be tossed by the waves

And the currents that seem so fierce

One thing I like

But in the word of God I've got an anchor, hallelujah

And it keeps me steadfast and unmovable

Despite the tide

But if, if the storms just don't cease

And just in case the wind keeps on blowing

Blowing in my life

My soul

My soul's been anchored

In the Lord

In the Lord

Lord

My soul

My soul been anchored

In the Lord

My soul

My soul

My, my-my-my my

My, my-my-my my, my, my, my

My soul

My soul been anchored

My soul been anchored

My soul been anchored

My soul been anchored

Though the billiards may roll

The breakers may dash

But I shall not sway because

He hold me fast

So dark the day

Clouds in the sky

I know it's alright

Because Jesus is nigh

And my soul

My soul

My soul

My, my-my my

My, my-my my, my, my, my, my, my

My, my-my my, my, my, my

My soul

My soul

My soul

My soul

My, my-my

My, my-my-my my my

My, my-my my

My, my-my-my-my-my my

My, my, my-my-my-my my, my

My, listen

You crush me down but Jesus picks me up

He sticks right by me when the going gets tough

And my soul

My soul

My soul

My soul has been anchored in the...

My soul

My soul

My soul

My soul

My soul

My, my-my-my

My, my-my-my

My, my-my-my, my-my-my my

Though the billiards may roll

And the breakers may dash

I shall not sway 'cause he hold me

He hold me

Through sickness and pain

Sunshine and the rain

My, my, my, my, my, my, my

My, my-my-my (my, my-my-my)

My, my-my-my (my, my-my-my)

My soul (my soul)

My soul has been

Has been, help me say it

Anchored

Anchored

In, in to the Lord

So what happened? Let's go back in time to Good Friday - or further down the road, to late December from a routine doctor's appointment with the urologist. My PSA (prostate specific antigen) count was triple the mean, and since it had remained normal all of this time, he was concerned enough to order a MRI to make sure I was still OK and if he might have seen something amiss. Two months later at that exam and the beginning of three-digit expenses, enough was seen for me to return to another trip and one more exam. Although it could very well save my life, having a biopsy done is a 0/10 for the pain induced afterwards. Not only was I literally butthurt but also I had sprained both my left ankle and right wrist walking in the neighborhood from stepping in a hole in the street three hours prior. In this moment, I have to not only leave it all up to God but also do what is best for my wife and daughter for Lord knows my baby needs her Daddy, and the way better and significant help meet wants to keep doing this journey with me come hell or high water. As I am knowledgeable of probabilities from my days as a hack bettor and understanding analytics first through sports that I was never good enough to play and later on Roulette tables, I knew the odds were not exactly in my favor due to my own genetics and family history, I rolled the dice anyway and prayed for a positive outcome.

Good Friday, April 18, 2025, will forever be etched in my journey on this rock.

My doctor gave me the news:  I have prostate cancer.

For those who wish to know, I am Stage 2. It's early enough to capture and beat for a full life but enough for some serious life changes to occur and have the procedure done pronto.

Thank God Chastity was in the room next to me because I was too tired to be shocked from having worked off an hour earlier, and with the fact of that I needed a quick nap before it was time to get my locs retwisted really did not allow me to have time to sit and mope.

Yet.

I was given three options two of which were not viable at all, so I had a few days to weigh out the pros and cons of each direction before conferring with our decision to win this war. Once we came to the choice, scheduling the next step became the next critical thing. Am I worried? Of course! How are the bills going to be paid if I have to miss work for more than a few days? Who's mowing this grass? The earlier appointments ate through my PTO. What about vacation time this summer? Would I be able to go without being a burden? What are the ramifications of the eventual treatments? What becomes of my immediate family's dynamic? Any count, whooping prostate cancer is way bigger than me, so leaving my faith on the line in God's hand is the only way.

I gave myself ten days to mope around, and now, it's time to go head-on with the beast in my body.

In the coming days I'll be taking an extended hiatus from social media beyond those happy birthday memes my Facebook friends receive - and yes, even Barbecue Sundays at the house. What I am asking for are prayers (and well-wishes from those who do not pray or believe in a higher power) for my family, a successful beatdown of cancer, and a full recovery to resume normal life activities to enjoy all of you.

That's it.

God bless, I'm out. 

Sunday Dinner, Monday's Sandwiches: Dub Shack BBQ Goes Ham

I just realized that I have never done a ham recipe for the blog, and I haven't smoked one in years. To consider the time since the last one: Caeli hadn't been born yet, President Obama was in office, the overnight political shift from baby blue to blood red had not occurred in Arkansas yet, and I had a Masterbilt bullet smoker on the top of the hill. Obviously, Dub Shack BBQ as a hustle and burgeoning sauce empire was years away as is the refrigerator full of Lazy Magnolia and Diamond Bear beers tucked away in the back corner.

So...it's time to go ham.

INGREDIENTS 

One spiral cut ham

Your favorite rub(s). In this case, I'm doing Fire and Smoke Society's Sweet Preacher rub

Honey mustard as a binder 

Dub Shack BBQ's Get Honey barbecue sauce

STEP ONE. If you have not purchased your ham, it would be a pretty good time to get one. Otherwise - and if catching the post-Christmas sale at the preferred big box retailer or meat market is your thing, grab the one that has been in the deep freezer. In the meantime, allow it to thaw slowly in the refrigerator until it is pliable.

STEP TWO. Remove the ham from the refrigerator and set it on the counter or cutting board to reach room temperature. Apply a nice lather of honey mustard (trust me, you won't taste it) and your favorite rub all.over the ham. In this case, Fire and Smoke Society's Sweet Preacher earned the assignment.

STEP THREE. Head outside and light your grill or smoker with the products of choice. Since the PK also is the No. 1 draft pick, bank those lump charcoals to one side with a few Applewood chunks sprinkled throughout the lit coals before bringing el jamon for a smoke-kissed sauna at 275 degrees away on the cool side of the cooker. This is not a timed cook rather the ham is being smoked a second time around to 140 degrees, so hang around and chil by the cooker for a spell. 

If you can't keep still long enough, then make your glaze. 

STEP FOUR. Because I couldn't stay still, the next step is making a glaze. You can use the package that your ham came with, or you can doctor it up a little bit by adding your flair such as brown sugar, the same barbecue rub you seasoned the ham with, apple juice, and the most known unknown sauce in Dub Shack BBQ's Get Honey barbecue sauce. You can either paint the protein with a brush or pour it all over from the mixing cup: Just make sure you hit all of the curves and crevices in the protein. Return to the smoker and allow it to tack up for about half an hour but not too long - sugar does darken the longer it sits in smoke and near fire. We want incredible ham, not something acrid.

STEP FIVE. After pulling the showstopper, let it rest for at least twenty minutes before slicing into the ham. Enjoy!

My thoughts: Maybe I shouldn't have waited eleven years between ham cooks because my, my, my! We are going to be eating sandwiches for the next several days before I decide to freeze for another day or find members of the DSB Meatlist to pass this to.

Just because I don't eat as much pork as I once did does not preclude me from serving damn good barbecue to the masses. Besides, it's a superb way of working on sauce pairings. Anyway, thank you for reading the first AD&AD post of 2025. If you're looking in trying another ham for holidays, Sunday dinner, or just because, peep the recipe out and add your own twist to it. Y'all be blessed, be safe, be good to each other, and tell everyone that every day is a GREAT day for Dub Shack BBQ! 

2024 In Review

Here we are at the end of another calendar year, and if you're able to read this sentence - or have it dictated to you, congratulations: God has looked out for us for another 366 days. That alone should be enough for a praise break like some churches still allot as an impromptu affair that takes over the worship experience. 

So...where do we start?

JANUARY

I had my pork, black eye peas, cornbread, and greens to start the year off properly. Yeah, I know, it's a bit pagan [So are most holidays. Tell ya mama on me and see who gets slapped with the KJV of the Bible that 47 didn't sign] yet this one has an intricate chokehold on the community that no one would dare to deviate from it. I ain't eating chitterlings aka dookie noodles; to each his own if you do. 

It was also good starting the year off not having to file an accident claim. For those who do not know the story, the go-kart (our 2001 Ford Escape) was sideswiped last New Year’s Day on my way to church and nearly totaled for the fender. Three months later, I was able to finally get it repaired and the service tech told me he was $20 away from calling it a goner. Because I had lost my old truck to a similar fate - once the frame is bent, then it's curtains - I wasn't exactly going to contest the repair over a badging job. Any count, Campbell CDJR did a pretty solid job of making the car look like a star from fifteen feet away. 

FEBRUARY 

We have a nine-year-old whose birthday party did not aggravate new injuries from what in my mind was a fleeting athletic career. Caeli had a blast at the arcade with thirteen of her classmates, and that one might be worth repeating. 

As for one of my favorite times of the year in Black History Month: The contest got bigger, the sauces traveled far and near, and I even found time to stand outside and smoke some things. I also need to ban family members from participating since my wife ended up nearly winning the whole thing, but the point is the knowledge. Now, if you're against my teaching BHM, then kick rocks. Shout out to Jessica (this year's grand winner), Chastity the first runner-up, Cynthia (second place), and Sonya (third) for liking AND sharing my posts. Every day is a GREAT day for Dub Shack BBQ - and my sauces need to become a part of the cookout.

MARCH

Finally, a chance to get out of town. 

Big Grey (my new-to-me F-150, purchased the Monday before Thanksgiving) ate the miles from here to south Florida, around the manatees and panthers, through the Emerald Coast, and back home for spring break. How did we spend an entire week with that kind of proximity to sunny sandy beaches only to play in the white stuff some 500 miles northwest in Destin on a cloudy day behooves me, but that is what happened. A couple of notes: Georgia State Patrol does not play about the speed limit, and leg day finally paid off in spades at the Miami Zoo.

Who knew the 305 was the home of BBL surgeries? 

APRIL

Aside from Easter, how did the month of showers become the most mundane one? Those thirty days were as forgettable as Tuesdays at the post office. All I remember doing was shoveling manure into raised gardens, and hanging out with the chihuahua for a little bit longer.

MAY

Finally, the end of the 2023-24 school year and struggling to get Little Miss Sunshine to school on time each morning and on to the return of both summer break and swim season. As we've surmised, sports (in our house) season begins with swim in April and ends with volleyball in November. I got some really cool stuff from Porter Road in beef bacon, Mother's Day was a hit, and in a move that surely pleases Paw Paw, Caeli learned some carpentry and made a birdhouse. 

My little buddy Rocky moved to Sheridan because it was unfair of us to leave him in his kennel for half the day without getting to play, explore, and dig in peace. I miss him, but chihuahuas cannot be held down. 

JUNE

The season of success continues with one cousin graduating from kindergarten, another matriculation from Head Start, and the swimmer winning races. Instead of my normal Father's Day dinner spread of cooking everything I wanted for the family, the church threw a cookout for the body: Your friendly pitmaster's role: The smoked turkey - and the sign-up sheet. 

By the looks of things, this was going to be a fun summer.

JULY

Midway through the year of minding my own Black-ass business (you knew that was inevitable), vacation time was upon us, and this time, it was an eight-hour drive southwest to San Antonio and SeaWorld on the central Texas autobahn bypassing Austin. We had a blast though I missed out on the Alamo, and found out that the barbecue game there is trash. If you live in San Antonio, tell me where some decent 'cue is - and it better not be Bill Miller. However, the Mexican food was fire! 

The women folk enjoyed SeaWorld as evidenced in the pictures.

AUGUST

As swim season wound down, Caeli racked up more wins and the reality of fourth grade starting began to sink in. When I say academic atrophy is real, trust me: Getting back into the rote and routine of school life was painful for those first few weeks, yet we persevered to the point of getting to the bus stop without choosing violence.

The missus thought I was worthy enough of another hot year of marriage, so we posted up and enjoyed the precursor to the final season of Tailgating For Everyone and all that Dub Shack BBQ has allowed first as a backyard cook and second a parttime competitor. If the judging classes for Memphis in May were not scheduled for early November...

Unfortunately, she ran over one of those highway alligators better known as tire tread on Interstate 30, and as a result, back to having dual car payments for the first time in years. The bus - my nickname for Chastity's Explorer - comes with a learning curve and a whole lot of modern comforts that I might want in my next truck, just no time soon especially since there are some options Ford has locked away in the higher trim levels that I really enjoy at the moment.

SEPTEMBER 

If I have failed to mention it, this marked the final season of T4E. I smoked more meat and other tasty items in eleven consecutive weeks of Reddie football, and to the Meatlist, thank you for being the first to enjoy product, spread the word, and otherwise support the movement. 

Smoking Cheez-Its

Volleyball preseason is in full tilt, and since I'm married to the coach, I also got to roam the sidelines as assistant coach. To find out more of how the Volley Queens finished, keep reading.

Those Malvern HS alumni didn't duck smoke

OCTOBER 

Thank God Caeli looks like her mama!

The Volley Queens ran off to a 6-0 start as they found ways to win, and as long as the sizzling start continued, the players began to exert more confidence in not only each other but also in themselves. It also helped that they had fun - which is more than what I could say of the American political atmosphere. Needless to say, I did my Black job. It remained to be seen if that was enough though I already knew the answer.

In better news, Grandma turned 97. Here she is with the "onlies" - the generation of cousins who also happen to be only children. Had Kai been in Gould that day, it would've been a perfect snapshot.

NOVEMBER 

Here we are, in the ultimate cacophony of a year that revealed too much about not only celebrities but also each other. While one may think that I am talking about Diddy and his freak-offs, this also extends to the death of critical thinking in some people I have known since childhood in addition to two sets of rules becoming more prominent: One for the suckers, and one for those who sucker the other group. You know who you are and which group you fit in. 

The Volley Queens are now league champions! Those eight girls are some of the most resilient nine-, ten-, and eleven- year old athletes who dug deep - and had me looking for the blood pressure pills - to stand tall over fierce competitors across the net as the bullseye was placed on their green and pink jerseys after that 6-0 start. When I say the league wanted that smoke, they sure got it. 

The way-more significant other blew out another candle earlier this month, and a year after her life-changing procedure, she looks finer than frog hair.

DECEMBER 

Ahoy, we made it to the end! 

As we reach the end of 2024, let us shine a lighted candle for those we knew - and some we tried to emulate - who crossed over to the other shore. From my childhood friends April and Natalie leaving here to that neighborhood legend (and spiritual O.G.) Deacon Dave Conley becoming one of the ancestors upon completing his race, death marks the end of one round and the welcoming to eternity in another realm. Continue to uplift their families in your prayers as their presence and memories will stay with us.

Off to the highlights: the carpenter made a snow globe for her project, I had a restful birthday which the cake was punished the day before and phone remained tethered to its charger to keep up with your wishes, and the holidays have been fun.

Aston came to town to hoop

One thing I do not have control over is the future that 2025 delivers to us; yet, let us remember what Matthew 7:21-23 teaches of doing for the least of these. While we will always have the poor among us, let us be mindful that in more households than we care to admit that we are truthfully one paycheck away from struggling and needing the aid that was cut off to spite the face. 

May God bless each and every single one of you,and may 2025 be everything AND more you desire in His will.

I'm out.

Clean Sweep: Dub Shack BBQ Presents the 2024 Barbecue Game

Y'all know what I'm going to say say: Everyone day is a GREAT day for Dub Shack BBQ!

I also didn't realize how much cooking I had done until midway through Tailgating For Everyone, Season 4. It's also the final season, and like the Black History Month facts most of you have become accustomed to, it can return with enough interest in watching your friendly pitmaster push boundaries even further than what any traditionalist would ever consider. Click on the links below for the stuff I cooked - and for the Meatlist, you know not only where I live but also how I work: Thank you for expanding the repertoire and helping you generate ideas for the next cook. By the way, there are two bottles of Peachin' Ain't Easy barbecue sauce that I am really needing to move along. Let me know if you're interested in making my day - they are free for the taking if you live within an hour's drive of Bryant. 

Wanna see what I did? Peep game like a ref:

Chicken Cordon Bleu

Chicken Parmesan 

Lemon Pepper Chicken Wings

Salmon Bites

Picanha

Apple Pie Baked Beans

Filet Mignon

Bologna Burnt Ends

Prime Rib Sliders

Bacon Wrapped Ravioli 

Honey Lime Wings

Party Ribs

BBQ Shrimp 

Smoked Cheez-Its 

Mexican Street Corn Dip

Honey Hot Chicken Sliders

Chicken Drumsticks 

Cheesesteak Dip

Grilled Honey Buns

Green Bean Casserole 

My favorite? Those big back inducing honey buns.

Your favorite - and the one I couldn't smoke enough of? Cheez-Its: I smoked them five times in a seven week period, and only once did they leave the confines of Springhill Manor.

Would I take one back? Yeah, the bacon wrapped ravioli because I failed to treat them like the shotgun shells from 2022. Good idea, execution was not what was expected. 

Last year, I posted a picture of my rub collection, and because I've needed to pare it back some since I was encroaching on my wife's space in the spice cabinet, you'll see the weapons of mass inclusion. 

That's it. You see all twenty recipes.

Thanks for everything. Y'all be safe, be blessed, be good to each other, and tell everyone that every day is a GREAT day for Dub Shack BBQ!