It’s Not Impossible, But It Does Take Some Practice…
For those of my readers that haven’t been hanging around this Blog for any length of time, I’m going to take this opportunity to mention that, besides being an engineer (and architect and artist and writer and scholar and musician and lover and history buff and all around self-proclaimed good guy), I also really love to cook.
So much so, I have started writing a separate cooking blog called The Redneck Gourmet to document my cooking adventures,
Go check it out when you have the time, if you will.
I think that I am getting pretty good at it (succumbing to yet another a brief moment of self edification here)…cooking, that is. The writing about cooking part of my resume probably still needs some work yet.
It hasn’t always been that way with regard to my interest in cooking, however, but smack dab in the middle of my life, after I got divorced in my mid thirties, I decided to seriously learn how to work my way around something besides the Barbeque grill—an avocation that many, if not most, men are afraid to do. As a result, I started hanging out in the kitchen doing something besides eating peanut butter sandwiches off of a paper towel while leaning over the sink.
I’ve actually managed to competently take over the kitchen in my domicile. My girlfriend Pat doesn’t seem to mind, however.
To my surprise, I figured out that cooking is really just simple chemistry like I learned at Georgia Tech—surrounded by some fancy candles, stainless pots and pans, a few pieces of china or stoneware, and perhaps some vases full of flowers if you want to demonstrate a little flare.
The cool thing about the chemistry of cooking is that it is so forgiving (within certain limits) and unlike titrating an acid/base solution or worrying about how many “moles” of sodium you have in your Pyrex glass beaker, with cooking you can use your eyeballs and taste buds as your litmus paper and you do most of your work without wearing safety glasses.
At least that is the way MY cooking goes…there might be a few people out there that have a different experience and opinion on this topic.
Regarding cooking safety, I still do have a tendency to want to cook half naked—from the waist up that is, and in the process I’ve learned first hand an intimate knowledge of how to control the temperature of a skillet in order to prevent spattering my belly and chest with hot grease while frying bacon in the morning.
Don’t worry, when I have guests in the house I elect to wear a shirt to cover my hairy chest and possibly a baseball cap to cover my ever balding head.
“Hairless” food is always a good motto, and my lovely Mother just made me a nice apron as a Christmas gift this year so that I wouldn’t spoil my shirts and pants if and when I happen to allow a sauce to get too hot or commit some other culinary “boo-boo” while preparing my guests’ dinner.
Actually, I’ve found that you can meet some really interesting people when you know how to cook. Many people are eager to interact with you and help you as you hone and develop your cooking skills.
I try not to eat crappy junk foods in my middle age, so cooking definitely helps my dietary issues. No chips, no Twinkies, no candy (OK, ok maybe some Godiva chocolate), and few cookies. I prefer instead to torture myself cooking more wholesome foods in theory, from scratch, but still I elect to use bacon grease and gobs of real butter in my concoctions.
You know what?
In the end , when everything is said and done, I will still be dead Dead DEAD like the next Vegan that sits around eating Tofu and soy burgers all day, so why deny myself of the most important ingredient in food...
Flavor!
I’ve also learned that you can live without a microwave oven—the solution being something called aluminum foil, a 250 degree oven, and a bit of patience. I’d rather reserve the counter space in our small condo kitchen for other uses than having a big white plastic box sitting around doing nothing 23-3/4 hours each day. Fast cooking is great, but we can’t afford the real estate right now (I do have a double oven though…)
Any whoooooooo…
What started this rambling was when I was limping around the Internet this evening and looked up a recipe for Pimento and Cheese.
Here are the recommended ingredients to make your own:
16 oz. pkg. Kraft Deluxe American Cheese (grated)
4 oz. jar pimento
2 eggs
1 tbsp. mustard
1 tsp. vinegar
1 tbsp. mayonnaise
GREAT...Seems simple enough to me, how about you?
The purpose of this epic Internet Google expedition was that I happen to love a good Pimento and Cheese sandwich every now and then and I thought that I might make my own spread from scratch for a change here at home.
Nothing fancy, just two pieces of bread and some Pimento and Cheese spread.
But I couldn’t leave things that simple, Nooooo Sirrrrrr, not MEEEE, so I wandered into my kitchen to see what I had been eating out of a plastic tub in the fridge.
I think I might be sick.
Take a gander at this list of ingredients off of a tub of store-bought “Pimentoy and Cheesy” crap that I had in my house this morning:
American Cheese Imitation (water, partially hydrogenated soybean oil, Cassen, whey [milk], Sodium phosphate,Modified corn starch,Sodium citrate, Salt, Artificial flavors, Lactic acid, Sorbic Acid [preservative], Adipic acid, Artificial Colors, Calcium Phosphate, Sodium Aluminum Palminate, Riboflavin,Vitamin B-12)
Salad Dressing (soybean oil, water, corn syrup, vinegar, egg yolks, modified corn starch, sugar, salt, spice, lemon juice concentrate, oleoresin, Paprika.
Bell Pepper (Water, bell pepper, citric acid)
Potassium Sorbate and Sodium Benzoate to protect flavor
Anmatto Color
Salt
I'm going to get my favorite large wooden spoon and go gag myself now...
Saturday, January 14, 2006
Friday, January 13, 2006
OH...OH...OHHH...It's Friday the 13th
Quick...Run Away...
Tell me where to go, and I'll meet you there...
Oops...I'm already there
Tell me where to go, and I'll meet you there...
Oops...I'm already there
More Fresh Meat
For a fresh Rant…
I actually have three, no, make that four… Microsoft Word documents open right now, because my mind is racing (although I need to get some sleep so I can go to the theater today) and every single time I start to shut this computer down, dammit if I don’t find something else I have to bitch about.
For instance, look at this story from my beloved Local6 website:
MINEOLA, N.Y.—A shrimp a hibachi chef tossed at a man eating at a Japanese steakhouse ultimately led to the diner's death, his family claims in a $10 million wrongful death lawsuit against the restaurant chain Benihana.
Jerry Colaitis wrenched his neck when he ducked to avoid the shrimp in the chain's Munsey
Park restaurant, attorney Andre Ferenzo said in opening statements Wednesday.
Months after the January 2001 incident, the 43-year-old Long Island man died from complications caused by neck surgery he required afterward, the lawyer said.
Benihana lawyer Charles Connick said it was unlikely a chef who works for tips would toss food at customers after being asked not to, as Ferenzo claimed. Even if that happened, Connick added, the cause of Colaitis' death was an infection or neck injury unrelated to the shrimp.
Benihana chefs mix dining with entertainment as they grill Japanese food in front of patrons. Ferenzo said some of them have become more daring in recent years, but Connick said customers enjoy the experience.
"Some customers, especially dads and sons, want to catch the food," Connick said. "The evidence will show that it was part of the show."
Colaitis, of Old Brookville, underwent neck surgery in June 2001, but there were complications, and he had numbness in his arm, Ferenzo said. He died that November, a day after checking into a hospital with a 105-degree fever.
Flying SHRIMP?
Killed a man?
I’ve been to Benihana manyhana times before, and generally, if you don’t have 38C’s, toss out $20 bills from your wallet, or otherwise attract the attention of the grill chef by being a cute female, you are going to be relegated to the spectator section in the evening’s show.
That (being a spectator) is often still worth the effort, because some of these women just don’t get out much…er…um…never mind…
Next, I think that you should generally know what you are in for when you walk in the front door of the typical Benihana’s restaurants.
It ain’t cheep. For what you get, I think that it can be considered somewhat overpriced.
Perhaps this fellow should have kept on dining at Wendy’s, with the occasional trip to Waffle House, and he'd still be alive.
I say that if the poor plaintiff didn’t have enough sense to reach up and GRAB the shrimp out of the air with HIS HAND, then he also didn’t have enough active brain cells to avoid breaking his stupid neck trying to catch a piece of Dachshund’s turd in the same manner, accidentally flung up in the air by a lawnmower when he’s walking down the sidewalk past our friend’s Ozzie’s lawn maintenance activities.
Do YOU instinctively catch things in your mouth while sitting at a dining table?
I don’t—particularly after I’ve asked my fellow diners and the chef to not toss seafood at me.
Would YOU allow “social pressure” to make you snag a fresh morsel of food off of the grill ?
I might suffer an eye injury or get tossed into jail for kicking someone’s ass for throwing food at me, but I seriously doubt that I would die as a result of a “food catching induced” neck injury.
I actually have three, no, make that four… Microsoft Word documents open right now, because my mind is racing (although I need to get some sleep so I can go to the theater today) and every single time I start to shut this computer down, dammit if I don’t find something else I have to bitch about.
For instance, look at this story from my beloved Local6 website:
MINEOLA, N.Y.—A shrimp a hibachi chef tossed at a man eating at a Japanese steakhouse ultimately led to the diner's death, his family claims in a $10 million wrongful death lawsuit against the restaurant chain Benihana.
Jerry Colaitis wrenched his neck when he ducked to avoid the shrimp in the chain's Munsey
Park restaurant, attorney Andre Ferenzo said in opening statements Wednesday.
Months after the January 2001 incident, the 43-year-old Long Island man died from complications caused by neck surgery he required afterward, the lawyer said.
Benihana lawyer Charles Connick said it was unlikely a chef who works for tips would toss food at customers after being asked not to, as Ferenzo claimed. Even if that happened, Connick added, the cause of Colaitis' death was an infection or neck injury unrelated to the shrimp.
Benihana chefs mix dining with entertainment as they grill Japanese food in front of patrons. Ferenzo said some of them have become more daring in recent years, but Connick said customers enjoy the experience.
"Some customers, especially dads and sons, want to catch the food," Connick said. "The evidence will show that it was part of the show."
Colaitis, of Old Brookville, underwent neck surgery in June 2001, but there were complications, and he had numbness in his arm, Ferenzo said. He died that November, a day after checking into a hospital with a 105-degree fever.
Flying SHRIMP?
Killed a man?
I’ve been to Benihana manyhana times before, and generally, if you don’t have 38C’s, toss out $20 bills from your wallet, or otherwise attract the attention of the grill chef by being a cute female, you are going to be relegated to the spectator section in the evening’s show.
That (being a spectator) is often still worth the effort, because some of these women just don’t get out much…er…um…never mind…
Next, I think that you should generally know what you are in for when you walk in the front door of the typical Benihana’s restaurants.
It ain’t cheep. For what you get, I think that it can be considered somewhat overpriced.
Perhaps this fellow should have kept on dining at Wendy’s, with the occasional trip to Waffle House, and he'd still be alive.
I say that if the poor plaintiff didn’t have enough sense to reach up and GRAB the shrimp out of the air with HIS HAND, then he also didn’t have enough active brain cells to avoid breaking his stupid neck trying to catch a piece of Dachshund’s turd in the same manner, accidentally flung up in the air by a lawnmower when he’s walking down the sidewalk past our friend’s Ozzie’s lawn maintenance activities.
Do YOU instinctively catch things in your mouth while sitting at a dining table?
I don’t—particularly after I’ve asked my fellow diners and the chef to not toss seafood at me.
Would YOU allow “social pressure” to make you snag a fresh morsel of food off of the grill ?
I might suffer an eye injury or get tossed into jail for kicking someone’s ass for throwing food at me, but I seriously doubt that I would die as a result of a “food catching induced” neck injury.
What Are They Actually Selling?
Where was this stuff when I really needed it...
As I've said before, one of my favorite southern comics is Jeff Foxworthy.
A little known fact is that Mr. Foxworthy is also one of my fellow Georgia Tech Alumni, his attendance at our beloved North Avenue Trade School having overlapped with my own personal saga living in downtown Atlanta.
One of Jeff's monologues mentions his excitement at getting Victoria's Secret catalogs in the mail these days--unsolicited.
I understand his position on this matter.
These catalogues show things that most men (and some women) just can't help themselves from staring at when presented in this manner. I copied the above photo from an e-mail delivered to my free Yahoo spam folder, and I decided to comment here to get this issue out of my system for good--hopefully.
Here are some of his words, delivered this morning working strictly from memory, and quoting him as best I can (because I seriously identify with Jeff's take on life):
"You get pictures of grown women, standing around in their underwear, delivered to your door...FOR FREE!"
"where was this stuff when I really NEEDED it?"
"All we had when I was a kid was the Sears and Roebook Catalog...filled with them pictures of those giant 'lunchroom lady' bras...you know something with 57 cast iron hooks."
"If one of those things snaps, someone is losing an eye..."
"As far as I can see...looking at a Victoria's Secret Catalog--Victoria HAS no secrets left..."
I offer my hearty "AMEN"...Mr. Foxworthy
As I've said before, one of my favorite southern comics is Jeff Foxworthy.A little known fact is that Mr. Foxworthy is also one of my fellow Georgia Tech Alumni, his attendance at our beloved North Avenue Trade School having overlapped with my own personal saga living in downtown Atlanta.
One of Jeff's monologues mentions his excitement at getting Victoria's Secret catalogs in the mail these days--unsolicited.
I understand his position on this matter.
These catalogues show things that most men (and some women) just can't help themselves from staring at when presented in this manner. I copied the above photo from an e-mail delivered to my free Yahoo spam folder, and I decided to comment here to get this issue out of my system for good--hopefully.
Here are some of his words, delivered this morning working strictly from memory, and quoting him as best I can (because I seriously identify with Jeff's take on life):
"You get pictures of grown women, standing around in their underwear, delivered to your door...FOR FREE!"
"where was this stuff when I really NEEDED it?"
"All we had when I was a kid was the Sears and Roebook Catalog...filled with them pictures of those giant 'lunchroom lady' bras...you know something with 57 cast iron hooks."
"If one of those things snaps, someone is losing an eye..."
"As far as I can see...looking at a Victoria's Secret Catalog--Victoria HAS no secrets left..."
I offer my hearty "AMEN"...Mr. Foxworthy
Thursday, January 12, 2006
Ted Koppel Joins NPR
A Match Made In heaven...
Ted Koppel has a new one year deal to work at NPR
I'm sure that he'll be really fair and balanced...
(the old saw of a shoe fitting like a glove or birds of a feather flocking together or something like that comes to my mind...)
Ted Koppel has a new one year deal to work at NPR
I'm sure that he'll be really fair and balanced...
(the old saw of a shoe fitting like a glove or birds of a feather flocking together or something like that comes to my mind...)
Is That A Gun In Your Pocket?
"Or Are You Just Glad To See Me?"
I'll let this story speak for itself...here...take a peek...
Priests Furious Over Proposed Condom Law
POSTED: 5:09 pm EST January 11, 2006
BOGOTA, Colombia -- Roman Catholic priests in a Colombian town are furious over a councilman's proposal that people 14 and older must carry a condom at all times to reduce unwanted pregnancies and sexually transmitted diseases.
William Pena, a councilman in Tulua, said Wednesday he will present a formal proposal requiring all men and women - even those just on a visit to the town - to carry at least one condom. Those caught empty-pocketed could be fined $180 or ordered to take a safe sex course, he said.
"Sexual relations are going on constantly," (what...Viagra???) Pena told The Associated Press in an interview. "If you carry a condom, chances are you'll use it during the day. It's not going to be there forever."
Tulua has one of the highest rates of HIV infection in Colombia, he said. The proposal will be debated by other town leaders and could go into effect by March.
Roman Catholic priests in the Cauca Valley town, 150 miles southwest of Bogota, were fuming over the plan.
The Rev. Jesus Velasquez said it would only encourage sexual relations and ridiculed it as absurd. "I would have to have a condom even though I'm a member of the clergy," he was quoted as saying in the newspaper El Tiempo.
Another town priest, the Rev. Roberto Sarmiento, said improved sex education would be a better solution.
"Nobody can force someone to carry a condom in their pocket," he said. "They should instead carry the responsibility of what sexual relations mean."
All I want to know is:
When is the Roman Catholic Church managment going to get some sort of clue in this area of "human relations?"
Secondly, if they are successful...
Why can't they also support me being allowed to haul a Bazooka or some other form of giant rocket launcher around in my pocket to use to blast the heads off of stupid people like these described in this story, along with the stupid people that get paid to publish idiocy like this story represents?
Sorry...I'm going to go take my nap now...
I'm geting cranky...
I'll let this story speak for itself...here...take a peek...
Priests Furious Over Proposed Condom Law
POSTED: 5:09 pm EST January 11, 2006
BOGOTA, Colombia -- Roman Catholic priests in a Colombian town are furious over a councilman's proposal that people 14 and older must carry a condom at all times to reduce unwanted pregnancies and sexually transmitted diseases.
William Pena, a councilman in Tulua, said Wednesday he will present a formal proposal requiring all men and women - even those just on a visit to the town - to carry at least one condom. Those caught empty-pocketed could be fined $180 or ordered to take a safe sex course, he said.
"Sexual relations are going on constantly," (what...Viagra???) Pena told The Associated Press in an interview. "If you carry a condom, chances are you'll use it during the day. It's not going to be there forever."
Tulua has one of the highest rates of HIV infection in Colombia, he said. The proposal will be debated by other town leaders and could go into effect by March.
Roman Catholic priests in the Cauca Valley town, 150 miles southwest of Bogota, were fuming over the plan.
The Rev. Jesus Velasquez said it would only encourage sexual relations and ridiculed it as absurd. "I would have to have a condom even though I'm a member of the clergy," he was quoted as saying in the newspaper El Tiempo.
Another town priest, the Rev. Roberto Sarmiento, said improved sex education would be a better solution.
"Nobody can force someone to carry a condom in their pocket," he said. "They should instead carry the responsibility of what sexual relations mean."
All I want to know is:
When is the Roman Catholic Church managment going to get some sort of clue in this area of "human relations?"
Secondly, if they are successful...
Why can't they also support me being allowed to haul a Bazooka or some other form of giant rocket launcher around in my pocket to use to blast the heads off of stupid people like these described in this story, along with the stupid people that get paid to publish idiocy like this story represents?
Sorry...I'm going to go take my nap now...
I'm geting cranky...
You Just Can't Make This Stuff Up
OK People...
Here I was, ready to turn on talk radio and doze away on my morning nap, when I found this story on Florida's Local6 news website and I just had to offer a comment.
Read this and then tell me what you think...
An 11-year-old boy had a lingering headache two days after a pickup truck ran over his head. "All I remember about it was that when the truck ran over my head, I could hear my bones crack," Cameron Schuette said Tuesday.
Cameron, a 5th-grader and his 13-year-old brother Tyler were helping their grandfather chop and load wood on Sunday. The boys were sitting on the tailgate of their grandfather's truck when he began backing down his gravel driveway and Cameron either fell or jumped off.
Ron Shurley said he at first thought he ran over a piece of wood until he got out of the truck and saw Cameron lying face down in the gravel. Then he stood up and ran into the house, Shurley said.
"He didn't look too worse for wear," Shurley said. "He was just saying he had a headache."
After spotting blood running out of the boy's ear, Shurley drove him to the hospital. Cameron was then transferred to another hospital, where tests revealed he had a slight hairline skull fracture. He also had roadrash on his neck and face, a black eye and a laceration on his ear canal.
He was released from the hospital Tuesday, suffering a stiff neck and a headache.
His mother, Shannon England, said the accident showed the dangers of letting children ride on tailgates. She said it was a "miracle" that Cameron had not been injured worse..
As my Blog buddy Steve H. over at Hog on ice has said, forget Matt Drudge's famous big money Drudge Report, all you have to do is hang around at the Local 6 website to get enough craziness to last you a lifetime.
Finally, the story had this to say:
"Maybe he has an exceptionally hard head," Shurley said.
My Mother and my girl Pat can certainly identify with that concept...
(because they they know someone with an even HARDER head...)
Here I was, ready to turn on talk radio and doze away on my morning nap, when I found this story on Florida's Local6 news website and I just had to offer a comment.
Read this and then tell me what you think...
An 11-year-old boy had a lingering headache two days after a pickup truck ran over his head. "All I remember about it was that when the truck ran over my head, I could hear my bones crack," Cameron Schuette said Tuesday.
Cameron, a 5th-grader and his 13-year-old brother Tyler were helping their grandfather chop and load wood on Sunday. The boys were sitting on the tailgate of their grandfather's truck when he began backing down his gravel driveway and Cameron either fell or jumped off.
Ron Shurley said he at first thought he ran over a piece of wood until he got out of the truck and saw Cameron lying face down in the gravel. Then he stood up and ran into the house, Shurley said.
"He didn't look too worse for wear," Shurley said. "He was just saying he had a headache."
After spotting blood running out of the boy's ear, Shurley drove him to the hospital. Cameron was then transferred to another hospital, where tests revealed he had a slight hairline skull fracture. He also had roadrash on his neck and face, a black eye and a laceration on his ear canal.
He was released from the hospital Tuesday, suffering a stiff neck and a headache.
His mother, Shannon England, said the accident showed the dangers of letting children ride on tailgates. She said it was a "miracle" that Cameron had not been injured worse..
As my Blog buddy Steve H. over at Hog on ice has said, forget Matt Drudge's famous big money Drudge Report, all you have to do is hang around at the Local 6 website to get enough craziness to last you a lifetime.
Finally, the story had this to say:
"Maybe he has an exceptionally hard head," Shurley said.
My Mother and my girl Pat can certainly identify with that concept...
(because they they know someone with an even HARDER head...)
Ruby Throated Hummingbirds
This is not my finger in this picture.
I'm not going to lie to you--I wish it was, but it's not.
Two years ago I couldn't tell you anything about Hummingbirds except :
A--they are very tiny birds that can hover in flight...and...
B--See A above
I had, in fact, previously enjoyed seeing Hummingbirds in the Bahamas and in Jamaica when I visited various resorts on vacation, but the idea of actually interacting with hummers on a daily basis was quite foreign to me until Pat and I moved here to St. Simons Island.
Then everything changed.
During our first summer here on the island we bought a cheep hummingbird feeder, mixed up a batch of sugar water, and we were quite amazed that we soon developed our own little Hummingbird “Air Force” that conducted aerobatic exercises outside our second floor living room window every day.
If you’ve never had a relationship with “Hummers,” you’re missing one of life’s simplest pleasures. Don’t get me wrong here—pound for pound, if Hummers were the size of humans, I’d be hiding under a rock somewhere because these little bastards can be viscious to each other.
Fortunately they are not that size, so you can let your Pugs and Poodles and grandchildren run around in safety outside while the Hummers buzz around overhead. Most inattentive people think that they are seeing insects when they are actually seeing Hummers.
We have what we call “Hummingbird wars” outside the window each afternoon between March and October. During these altercations, a couple of dominate birds will sit on nearby tree branches and defend our feeders (we now have two) from foreign birds that evidently don’t reside in the area or don’t belong to our flock or otherwise meet whatever criteria Hummers apply to their territorial protection strategies.
Our Hummers are mainly of the Ruby-throated Species. We might get an occasional visitor in other variations, but we’ve learned to recognize the Rubies and they represent 99% of the members of our own Air Force.
The above picture of the little male Ruby-Throat sitting on some unidentified person’s thumb makes me extremely jealous, because I’ve heard that you can develop a relationship with these wild birds where they will actually perch on you.
I’ve already had two up-close and personal experiences myself, but I have as yet not had a Hummer sit on me personally.
While visiting my Mother last spring down in south Alabama, I assisted her in purchasing and putting out a new hummingbird feeder on her breezeway adjacent to the pool. I think it was on the very first day (the date is incidental to this story) that the feeder was out, I managed to leave the adjacent garage passage door open, and late that afternoon I walked into the garage and found a male Ruby Hummer panicking and bouncing off of the ceiling of the garage.
Hummers instinctively fly upward when threatened, and opening the garage doors and chasing the little bird around only increased his distress. They are smart, but instinctively they are their own worst enemies in these situations.
Fortunately (and I’m not making this up) I had read on a website just weeks earlier about how to catch and release a hummer from a garage. Pat and my Mother and I, through a group effort, managed to corner the little guy—I grabbed him in my bare hands—and walk him outside to safely release him.
God, I wish I had my camera. He was poking his tiny head out and looking at me like he just knew that I was going to bite him in half and swallow him, toes and all…
But I didn’t, and upon his release he promptly hauled ass out of sight into the trees to the north of the house.
My other “close encounter” was late last summer when I was out on the patio doing some birdfeeder maintenance and I froze while a hummer came up to the feeder adjacent to the one I was working on, about a foot away from my head, and happily drank his fill.
Unfortunately, in order to keep from scaring him off, I was only able to see him out of the corner of my eye, but the striking thing for me was hearing the mechanical buzz of his wings as he maneuvered around the feeder.
Pat witnessed the whole episode, and being the bird lover that she is, she was quite envious of my experience.
With this week's 75 degree F daytime temps and balmy nights, we're already anticipating cooking up another batch of sugar water and waiting for our guys and gals to return from the long journey across the Gulf of Mexico.
As for me, personally, before this summer is over, I'm gonna show you all a picture of me with a Hummer sitting on my ever balding head (probably taking a poop on me in the process.)
And by the way, I owe a Hat Tip to Rodger over at Curmudgeonly & Skeptical for the photo...
I'm not going to lie to you--I wish it was, but it's not.
Two years ago I couldn't tell you anything about Hummingbirds except :
A--they are very tiny birds that can hover in flight...and...
B--See A above
I had, in fact, previously enjoyed seeing Hummingbirds in the Bahamas and in Jamaica when I visited various resorts on vacation, but the idea of actually interacting with hummers on a daily basis was quite foreign to me until Pat and I moved here to St. Simons Island.
Then everything changed.
During our first summer here on the island we bought a cheep hummingbird feeder, mixed up a batch of sugar water, and we were quite amazed that we soon developed our own little Hummingbird “Air Force” that conducted aerobatic exercises outside our second floor living room window every day.
If you’ve never had a relationship with “Hummers,” you’re missing one of life’s simplest pleasures. Don’t get me wrong here—pound for pound, if Hummers were the size of humans, I’d be hiding under a rock somewhere because these little bastards can be viscious to each other.
Fortunately they are not that size, so you can let your Pugs and Poodles and grandchildren run around in safety outside while the Hummers buzz around overhead. Most inattentive people think that they are seeing insects when they are actually seeing Hummers.
We have what we call “Hummingbird wars” outside the window each afternoon between March and October. During these altercations, a couple of dominate birds will sit on nearby tree branches and defend our feeders (we now have two) from foreign birds that evidently don’t reside in the area or don’t belong to our flock or otherwise meet whatever criteria Hummers apply to their territorial protection strategies.
Our Hummers are mainly of the Ruby-throated Species. We might get an occasional visitor in other variations, but we’ve learned to recognize the Rubies and they represent 99% of the members of our own Air Force.
The above picture of the little male Ruby-Throat sitting on some unidentified person’s thumb makes me extremely jealous, because I’ve heard that you can develop a relationship with these wild birds where they will actually perch on you.
I’ve already had two up-close and personal experiences myself, but I have as yet not had a Hummer sit on me personally.
While visiting my Mother last spring down in south Alabama, I assisted her in purchasing and putting out a new hummingbird feeder on her breezeway adjacent to the pool. I think it was on the very first day (the date is incidental to this story) that the feeder was out, I managed to leave the adjacent garage passage door open, and late that afternoon I walked into the garage and found a male Ruby Hummer panicking and bouncing off of the ceiling of the garage.
Hummers instinctively fly upward when threatened, and opening the garage doors and chasing the little bird around only increased his distress. They are smart, but instinctively they are their own worst enemies in these situations.
Fortunately (and I’m not making this up) I had read on a website just weeks earlier about how to catch and release a hummer from a garage. Pat and my Mother and I, through a group effort, managed to corner the little guy—I grabbed him in my bare hands—and walk him outside to safely release him.
God, I wish I had my camera. He was poking his tiny head out and looking at me like he just knew that I was going to bite him in half and swallow him, toes and all…
But I didn’t, and upon his release he promptly hauled ass out of sight into the trees to the north of the house.
My other “close encounter” was late last summer when I was out on the patio doing some birdfeeder maintenance and I froze while a hummer came up to the feeder adjacent to the one I was working on, about a foot away from my head, and happily drank his fill.
Unfortunately, in order to keep from scaring him off, I was only able to see him out of the corner of my eye, but the striking thing for me was hearing the mechanical buzz of his wings as he maneuvered around the feeder.
Pat witnessed the whole episode, and being the bird lover that she is, she was quite envious of my experience.
With this week's 75 degree F daytime temps and balmy nights, we're already anticipating cooking up another batch of sugar water and waiting for our guys and gals to return from the long journey across the Gulf of Mexico.
As for me, personally, before this summer is over, I'm gonna show you all a picture of me with a Hummer sitting on my ever balding head (probably taking a poop on me in the process.)
And by the way, I owe a Hat Tip to Rodger over at Curmudgeonly & Skeptical for the photo...
More Weird Crap I Found On The Internet
I just tripped over this Web Page about spending the night in jail...but not in the usual way that you would envision.
Couldn't you live like a King in a room that looks like this?
It will cost you $105 per night, and you don't need a lawyer to get yourself out when you want to end your stay.
It's in the Jailer's Inn Bed and Breakfast in Bardstown, Kentucky.
I guess it makes sense that even old jails are useful when rennovated and re-opened as things like Bed and Breakfast facilities.
I love staying in old inns and B&B's, so this property is on my personal "want to stay list."
Wednesday, January 11, 2006
Hee Hee Heee
Roger over at Curmudgeonly & Skeptical had this gem today and I borrowed stole it:
I think that about covers the situation...
I think that about covers the situation...
Frisbee, Anyone?
Run a Deep Post Pattern...
I love tossing a Frisbee.
There was a time, back in the late 1970’s and early 1980’s, when I couldn’t imagine not having a couple of dozen Frisbees around me.
I used to have a Frisbee in my hand practically 24 hours each day.
Frisbees are amazing appliances and tools, and used properly, you might be able to use a Frisbee to save your life one day.
I think that Harold “Odd Job” Sakata’s
famous flying steel brimmed bowler hat
in the James Bond film Goldfinger was
somehow inspired by a Frisbee.
I love it because you can eat off of a Frisbee.
At least I have, many times.
All you have to do is to wash your Frisbee off, turn it upside down, and use it like a paper plate.
Veal ...anyone?
You can also entertain a dog with your Frisbee--just watch Animal Planet to see so for yourself.
Heck, you can even pick up girls with your Frisbee abilities (as to whether they are actually worthwhile women is still an open question, I might add.)
My friends Rusty, Andy, Tom, Dave, and I could throw a Frisbee up and down the hallway in our college dorm at 2:00 AM and not bother anybody, because we were so accurate with our throws and catches that no one knew we were out there in the hall.
The key to such late night adventures was tossing the Frisbee accurately and catching it every time—with one hand if possible…sorta like my idea of perfect GUN control—“hitting the intended target every damn time.”
My Frisbee friends and I would go out at night and play “Disk Golf” on an impromptu course on the Georgia Tech campus. We each actually carried a couple of Frisbees with us—a “putter”, a “driver,” and a mid-range or back up disk (just in case we landed one on the roof or something.) Little did we know how that sport would spread around the world like it has today.
We also started a dorm based Ultimate Frisbee Team and competed against a team called the ”Spliffs” on an intramural basis, again in a day when the sport (Ultimate Frisbee) was in it’s infancy. I’m not really sure who was better at tossing the Frisbee and who was better at rolling a joint, but we lost to the Spliffs every single time we played against them, and in the end nobody seemed to care about the loss.
Now I hate to admit it, but when my house burned down in 2001 I lost my entire Frisbee collection, and because of my wobbly health since that day I haven’t bothered to buy a single replacement Frisbee.
I’m totally Frisbee-less, and I really hadn’t thought about it until this morning when I started writing this posting.
Back in “the day” I would have at least one 165 gram, probably a standard 150 gram, maybe a 200 gram HDX, and a pile of crappy banged up back-up Frisbees of different sizes and shapes that I had either used and abused myself or found laying around in the world.
Usually, if I had less than a half dozen Frisbees laying around, you'd find me running by the bank to withdraw some money on my way to the store to buy a new one.
A Frisbee, that is...
I’ll be right back.
I love tossing a Frisbee.
There was a time, back in the late 1970’s and early 1980’s, when I couldn’t imagine not having a couple of dozen Frisbees around me.
I used to have a Frisbee in my hand practically 24 hours each day.
Frisbees are amazing appliances and tools, and used properly, you might be able to use a Frisbee to save your life one day.
I think that Harold “Odd Job” Sakata’sfamous flying steel brimmed bowler hat
in the James Bond film Goldfinger was
somehow inspired by a Frisbee.
I love it because you can eat off of a Frisbee.
At least I have, many times.
All you have to do is to wash your Frisbee off, turn it upside down, and use it like a paper plate.
Veal ...anyone?
You can also entertain a dog with your Frisbee--just watch Animal Planet to see so for yourself.
Heck, you can even pick up girls with your Frisbee abilities (as to whether they are actually worthwhile women is still an open question, I might add.)
My friends Rusty, Andy, Tom, Dave, and I could throw a Frisbee up and down the hallway in our college dorm at 2:00 AM and not bother anybody, because we were so accurate with our throws and catches that no one knew we were out there in the hall.
The key to such late night adventures was tossing the Frisbee accurately and catching it every time—with one hand if possible…sorta like my idea of perfect GUN control—“hitting the intended target every damn time.”
My Frisbee friends and I would go out at night and play “Disk Golf” on an impromptu course on the Georgia Tech campus. We each actually carried a couple of Frisbees with us—a “putter”, a “driver,” and a mid-range or back up disk (just in case we landed one on the roof or something.) Little did we know how that sport would spread around the world like it has today.
We also started a dorm based Ultimate Frisbee Team and competed against a team called the ”Spliffs” on an intramural basis, again in a day when the sport (Ultimate Frisbee) was in it’s infancy. I’m not really sure who was better at tossing the Frisbee and who was better at rolling a joint, but we lost to the Spliffs every single time we played against them, and in the end nobody seemed to care about the loss.
Now I hate to admit it, but when my house burned down in 2001 I lost my entire Frisbee collection, and because of my wobbly health since that day I haven’t bothered to buy a single replacement Frisbee.
I’m totally Frisbee-less, and I really hadn’t thought about it until this morning when I started writing this posting.
Back in “the day” I would have at least one 165 gram, probably a standard 150 gram, maybe a 200 gram HDX, and a pile of crappy banged up back-up Frisbees of different sizes and shapes that I had either used and abused myself or found laying around in the world.
Usually, if I had less than a half dozen Frisbees laying around, you'd find me running by the bank to withdraw some money on my way to the store to buy a new one.
A Frisbee, that is...
I’ll be right back.
Oh My Gosh... It's The Chinese Bird Flue
Coming to a Restaurant near YOU--But Why Worry?
I'm not gonna eat any Chinese Chicken.
Simply put, that is my personal solution to the "Bird Flue" problem.
Kissing a Chicken is out of the question, at least intentionally, that is.
VAN, Turkey -- Sumeyya Mamuk considered the chickens in her backyard to be beloved pets. The 8-year-old girl fed them, petted them and took care of them. When they started to get sick and die, she hugged them and tenderly kissed them goodbye.
The next morning, her face and eyes were swollen and she had a high fever. Her father took her to a hospital, and five days later she was confirmed to have the deadly H5N1 strain of bird flu.
"The chickens were sick. One had puffed up and she touched it. We told her not to. She loved chickens a lot," her father, Abdulkerim Mamuk, said of the second youngest of his eight children. "She held them in her arms."
Before I would buy it, I always recommend that you always ask your chicken..."Sprechen ze deutch?"
Also, it's a dead giveaway if your chicken hands you some Fortune Cookies or proceeds to put itself into a small cardboard box with a side of rice and some little packages of soy sauce...
In that event...
Run...
I'm not gonna eat any Chinese Chicken.
Simply put, that is my personal solution to the "Bird Flue" problem.
Kissing a Chicken is out of the question, at least intentionally, that is.
VAN, Turkey -- Sumeyya Mamuk considered the chickens in her backyard to be beloved pets. The 8-year-old girl fed them, petted them and took care of them. When they started to get sick and die, she hugged them and tenderly kissed them goodbye.
The next morning, her face and eyes were swollen and she had a high fever. Her father took her to a hospital, and five days later she was confirmed to have the deadly H5N1 strain of bird flu.
"The chickens were sick. One had puffed up and she touched it. We told her not to. She loved chickens a lot," her father, Abdulkerim Mamuk, said of the second youngest of his eight children. "She held them in her arms."
Before I would buy it, I always recommend that you always ask your chicken..."Sprechen ze deutch?"
Also, it's a dead giveaway if your chicken hands you some Fortune Cookies or proceeds to put itself into a small cardboard box with a side of rice and some little packages of soy sauce...
In that event...
Run...
Senatorial Rectal Cranial Inversion--Updated!!!
This Just In...
Democrat Ted Kennedy was caught at the Senate's confirmation hearings for Judge Alito (again) today with his head up his ass, and while there he was surprised to find Judiciary Committee leader Republican Arlen Spector in there with his own head up his own butt, and some as yet undetermined senatorial body even further burried up in the process with his own head in his own rectal canal.
Sorta like a Senatorial Turducken , only different
Amazing...
Democrat Ted Kennedy was caught at the Senate's confirmation hearings for Judge Alito (again) today with his head up his ass, and while there he was surprised to find Judiciary Committee leader Republican Arlen Spector in there with his own head up his own butt, and some as yet undetermined senatorial body even further burried up in the process with his own head in his own rectal canal.
Sorta like a Senatorial Turducken , only different
Amazing...
Tuesday, January 10, 2006
A Redneck’s Take
On Sharon’s Illness And Impending Death…
I was born in 1959.
Israel, in its present geographic location, was at that time about 12 years old, as I recall.
Since then, I have managed to grow to maturity, get a college education, while at the same time watch a world full of idiots play ping-pong with the Jewish state that was created under the auspices of the United Nations and every other %$#@& tree hugging, liberal/conservative group of “busybodies” that were still suffering post WWII remorse for the German atrocities inflicted on this group of people.
I like the way the Israeli’s fight a war—circa 1967.
I like the way that the Israeli’s take care of terrorists—circa 1972.
I like the way that Israel deals with nuclear threats—Iran circa 1981.
I love to shoot the Israeli Desert Eagle 50 caliber pistol.
I don’t quite know enough about the details of the politics, but dammit if the
illness of the Israeli PM Ariel Sharon doesn’t come at the worst possible time in this so called "peace process."
I think that some serious intervention in the Gaza Strip and a bit of radio activity, delivered by friendly fire, may be the only solution to this area’s problem.
I was born in 1959.
Israel, in its present geographic location, was at that time about 12 years old, as I recall.
Since then, I have managed to grow to maturity, get a college education, while at the same time watch a world full of idiots play ping-pong with the Jewish state that was created under the auspices of the United Nations and every other %$#@& tree hugging, liberal/conservative group of “busybodies” that were still suffering post WWII remorse for the German atrocities inflicted on this group of people.
I like the way the Israeli’s fight a war—circa 1967.
I like the way that the Israeli’s take care of terrorists—circa 1972.
I like the way that Israel deals with nuclear threats—Iran circa 1981.
I love to shoot the Israeli Desert Eagle 50 caliber pistol.
I don’t quite know enough about the details of the politics, but dammit if the
illness of the Israeli PM Ariel Sharon doesn’t come at the worst possible time in this so called "peace process."
I think that some serious intervention in the Gaza Strip and a bit of radio activity, delivered by friendly fire, may be the only solution to this area’s problem.
Chocolate and Zucchini
Who ARE these people?
This lovely young woman writes an excellent cooking Blog that has already earned her a Cookbook publishing deal.
I'm jealous, but it's actually no wonder--look how wonderfully she writes:
"A lot can be learned about your cooking self by considering what you eat when you're on your own. I have friends who are just not hungry when they're alone, who (gasp!) forget to eat, who don't consider it a real meal if there's no dining companion, or who just eat a Kinder Surprise, build the little toy and call it dinner -- and I'm not making this up.
What's most surprising to me is that some of them are great cooks, but somehow they don't find it worth the effort to use their talents if it's just for their own benefit. I say, you should treat yourself as if you were you own guest.
I certainly understand the desire to keep things simple when no one's looking -- and I'm not saying you should prepare multiple courses and whip out votive candles, although it's a nice thought -- but to me, dinner alone shouldn't be expedited as if it were a chore. Instead, I see it as a unique opportunity to eat exactly what I please and how I want to eat it, comfortable in my delicious solitude. And in my world, this often means eating in a bowl, on the couch, while watching Desperate Housewives.
If you are a cook, go check out the Chocolate and Zucchini Website, and if you just like reading Blogs...go there anyway.
I do.
This lovely young woman writes an excellent cooking Blog that has already earned her a Cookbook publishing deal.
I'm jealous, but it's actually no wonder--look how wonderfully she writes:
"A lot can be learned about your cooking self by considering what you eat when you're on your own. I have friends who are just not hungry when they're alone, who (gasp!) forget to eat, who don't consider it a real meal if there's no dining companion, or who just eat a Kinder Surprise, build the little toy and call it dinner -- and I'm not making this up.
What's most surprising to me is that some of them are great cooks, but somehow they don't find it worth the effort to use their talents if it's just for their own benefit. I say, you should treat yourself as if you were you own guest.
I certainly understand the desire to keep things simple when no one's looking -- and I'm not saying you should prepare multiple courses and whip out votive candles, although it's a nice thought -- but to me, dinner alone shouldn't be expedited as if it were a chore. Instead, I see it as a unique opportunity to eat exactly what I please and how I want to eat it, comfortable in my delicious solitude. And in my world, this often means eating in a bowl, on the couch, while watching Desperate Housewives.
If you are a cook, go check out the Chocolate and Zucchini Website, and if you just like reading Blogs...go there anyway.
I do.
Explosive Device Found At San Fran Starbucks
It was in the bathroom
This is crude, but I just have to comment.
Sorry ladies…
FOX News just came on my TV at about 1:45 AM with a breaking news story saying that an “explosive device” was found in the bathroom of a San Francisco area Starbucks coffee shop.
Duuuuuhhhhhhhhh…
What is the big darned story here?
I suggest that on any given day or night of any given week, anyone having come to Starbucks to drink a “double double Espresso” on top of a couple of bowls of Wendy’s chili could be legally considered an explosive device.
Someone call Howard Stern….
This is crude, but I just have to comment.
Sorry ladies…
FOX News just came on my TV at about 1:45 AM with a breaking news story saying that an “explosive device” was found in the bathroom of a San Francisco area Starbucks coffee shop.
Duuuuuhhhhhhhhh…
What is the big darned story here?
I suggest that on any given day or night of any given week, anyone having come to Starbucks to drink a “double double Espresso” on top of a couple of bowls of Wendy’s chili could be legally considered an explosive device.
Someone call Howard Stern….
Under Cover
I Know Nothing…
As I’ve stated before, this year I’m working on improving and expanding my coverage of local political issues. Most of the results of this effort will be published over at my much neglected local political blog that I write incognito.
Unfortunately, I’ve gotten off to a bit of a slow start so far because I’ve been fighting a minor head cold the past few days. We also had guests in town for part of the weekend and that took some of my attention, but tomorrow morning at 5:30 AM I’m kicking off my second secret undercover investigation here in Glynn County.
I’m tempted to say here in this blog what I am up to, but then again, I’m not sure who is reading my writing here and I want to get a little time into the process to see where the story goes before I attach my real identity to the project.
Let’s just say it is a human interest story involving low income citizens, and I’m not shaving right now and I'll be wearing my old work clothes and steel toed boots so that I can fit in with the participants.
Hey buddy, can you spare a dime???
Monday, January 09, 2006
That Global Warming Thing...
She Be A Bitch…
My friend and fellow rocket scientist, Wayne Kirsner, and I love to discuss technical issues that are also political issues. In the course of having our dialogue, we also attempt to solve the world’s problems—at least on paper.
We’ll banter on back and forth for hours at a time over a few weeks via E-mail and on the telephone, then we take a few months off until we see something new in the news that piques our interest, then off we go again—ranting and raving about the stupidity of the politically correct public discourse on things most news “reporters” can never actually understand.
Those of you in the “general public” just have to take your chances on what you believe on any given issue, unless you are very careful with your choice of your source of information.
Seriously, Wayne is a really smart fellow, and he is an intellectual bulldog when it comes to reasoning and logical development of an argument supporting a given issue.
He has a Bachelors degree in Physics and a Masters’ degree in mechanical engineering from the Georgia Institute of Technology. I am just a lowly possessor of a Bachelors degree in Mechanical Engineering Technology myself, but Wayne and I have worked together many times over the past sixteen years and done some great work relating to improving building energy usage and looking at fun things like industrial steam piping problems.
Wayne is also what I consider to be a masochist, because he loves to drive his Lexus SC convertible over to the Starbucks Coffee Shop near Emory University in Atlanta, where he is regularly assaulted by a bunch of LIBERALS.
You know about the relationship between LIBERALS and Starbucks, don’t you?
No?
Well, just for reference, if you will walk into any given Starbucks coffee shop, on any given day, in most any city in the country, you can expect to find a cacophony, a plethora, yes…a virtual cornucopia of bed wetting, nail biting, thumb sucking, bleeding heart LIBERALS all sitting around sipping on Columbian Nario Supreme, half soy, half moo, double doubles (possibly iced.)
P-L-U-E-E-S-E-E-E-E-E-E-E-E-E
Why should ordering coffee be so difficult? Why should one require a college degree to understand the intricacies of buying a cup of coffee?
I’m not impressed.
Any way, when Wayne and I would walk into Starbucks together when I still resided in the Atlanta metro area, we knew that if we wanted to start an argument, all we had to do is start talking about….(hang on…)
GLOBAL WARMING.
Total strangers would stagger over with their eyes rolled back in their heads, interrupt our conversation (taking our bait in the process,) and issue spit laden slogans about how the world was ending and it was the Capitalists and the Republicans fault and they would end the conversation with threats of running over us with their Italian Moped or bicycle when we attempted to exit the parking lot.
Don’t get me wrong here, we’re talking about what I would ordinarily consider to be smart people, but they apparently are just mis-informed.
Horribly mis-informed…courtesy of the United Nations and their beloved Kyoto Treaty.
These people have bought into this GLOBAL WARMING “cult,” and to them it feels good worrying about “Mother Earth,” and “saving the planet” and no amount of rational debate and reasoning will change their mind.
Instead of relying on the NY Times and the Associated press to supply us with our information on Global Warming, Wayne and I happen to have had the opportunity to have dialogues with Dr. Peter Griffith and Dr. Richard Lindzen that do climate research at the Massachussets Institute of Technology.
These guys are on the cutting edge of the field of climate modeling, but they are also considered “outsiders” because of their skepticism of any existing proof of MAN’S DIRECT INFLUENCE ON THE TEMPERATURE OF OUR PLANET.
By default, we have learned that Dr.’s Griffith’s and Lindzen’s opportunities to participate in the ongoing public dialogue and to be included in professional conferences have been limited because of the political correctness of their positions.
Dr. Griffith and Dr. Lindzen say that the earth MIGHT be getting warmer, but that IF it really is, there is no PROOF that humans and our industrialization of the planet is the cause of the warming.
Things like solar cycles and El Nino and La Nina and untold yet to be discovered processes influence our weather and sitting around wetting your pants about GLOBAL WARMING, in my considered Redneck opinion, is only going to yield one thing…
a bad case of Diaper Rash.
If global warming is such a threat, why is New Delhi, India having record cold this week?
Just wondering…
My friend and fellow rocket scientist, Wayne Kirsner, and I love to discuss technical issues that are also political issues. In the course of having our dialogue, we also attempt to solve the world’s problems—at least on paper.
We’ll banter on back and forth for hours at a time over a few weeks via E-mail and on the telephone, then we take a few months off until we see something new in the news that piques our interest, then off we go again—ranting and raving about the stupidity of the politically correct public discourse on things most news “reporters” can never actually understand.
Those of you in the “general public” just have to take your chances on what you believe on any given issue, unless you are very careful with your choice of your source of information.
Seriously, Wayne is a really smart fellow, and he is an intellectual bulldog when it comes to reasoning and logical development of an argument supporting a given issue.
He has a Bachelors degree in Physics and a Masters’ degree in mechanical engineering from the Georgia Institute of Technology. I am just a lowly possessor of a Bachelors degree in Mechanical Engineering Technology myself, but Wayne and I have worked together many times over the past sixteen years and done some great work relating to improving building energy usage and looking at fun things like industrial steam piping problems.
Wayne is also what I consider to be a masochist, because he loves to drive his Lexus SC convertible over to the Starbucks Coffee Shop near Emory University in Atlanta, where he is regularly assaulted by a bunch of LIBERALS.
You know about the relationship between LIBERALS and Starbucks, don’t you?
No?
Well, just for reference, if you will walk into any given Starbucks coffee shop, on any given day, in most any city in the country, you can expect to find a cacophony, a plethora, yes…a virtual cornucopia of bed wetting, nail biting, thumb sucking, bleeding heart LIBERALS all sitting around sipping on Columbian Nario Supreme, half soy, half moo, double doubles (possibly iced.)
P-L-U-E-E-S-E-E-E-E-E-E-E-E-E
Why should ordering coffee be so difficult? Why should one require a college degree to understand the intricacies of buying a cup of coffee?
I’m not impressed.
Any way, when Wayne and I would walk into Starbucks together when I still resided in the Atlanta metro area, we knew that if we wanted to start an argument, all we had to do is start talking about….(hang on…)
GLOBAL WARMING.
Total strangers would stagger over with their eyes rolled back in their heads, interrupt our conversation (taking our bait in the process,) and issue spit laden slogans about how the world was ending and it was the Capitalists and the Republicans fault and they would end the conversation with threats of running over us with their Italian Moped or bicycle when we attempted to exit the parking lot.
Don’t get me wrong here, we’re talking about what I would ordinarily consider to be smart people, but they apparently are just mis-informed.
Horribly mis-informed…courtesy of the United Nations and their beloved Kyoto Treaty.
These people have bought into this GLOBAL WARMING “cult,” and to them it feels good worrying about “Mother Earth,” and “saving the planet” and no amount of rational debate and reasoning will change their mind.
Instead of relying on the NY Times and the Associated press to supply us with our information on Global Warming, Wayne and I happen to have had the opportunity to have dialogues with Dr. Peter Griffith and Dr. Richard Lindzen that do climate research at the Massachussets Institute of Technology.
These guys are on the cutting edge of the field of climate modeling, but they are also considered “outsiders” because of their skepticism of any existing proof of MAN’S DIRECT INFLUENCE ON THE TEMPERATURE OF OUR PLANET.
By default, we have learned that Dr.’s Griffith’s and Lindzen’s opportunities to participate in the ongoing public dialogue and to be included in professional conferences have been limited because of the political correctness of their positions.
Dr. Griffith and Dr. Lindzen say that the earth MIGHT be getting warmer, but that IF it really is, there is no PROOF that humans and our industrialization of the planet is the cause of the warming.
Things like solar cycles and El Nino and La Nina and untold yet to be discovered processes influence our weather and sitting around wetting your pants about GLOBAL WARMING, in my considered Redneck opinion, is only going to yield one thing…
a bad case of Diaper Rash.
If global warming is such a threat, why is New Delhi, India having record cold this week?
Just wondering…
Sunday, January 08, 2006
True Homelessness
It’s Out There, But It’s Not Here…
I was cruising around the WWW tonight trying to catch up on the news and the goings on in the world after our guests left town today.
Since I’m particularly cranky these days, and since we just got through entertaining three teenaged girls overnight, this story caught my eye and I realized that I haven’t opined on the issue of homeless children in a while.
Among other things, they say:
SAO PAULO, Brazil--More than 1,000 children have been living underneath highway overpasses, inside tunnels and on city squares in South America's biggest city, according to a study reported by Brazilian media Saturday.
The study, conducted by Sao Paulo city officials, showed that about 1,030 children are homeless in Sao Paulo, a city of more than 10 million people, the Estado de S. Paulo newspaper said.
It said another 3,000 who are not homeless work on the streets, selling candy or begging to help their families.
I feel like spewing some venom on this subject, so please return your tray table and seatback to the upright and locked position while I tell you how I feel.
FIRST of all, in this country, there is absolutely no reason that there should be any “homeless” children.
None at all.
Zero.
Zilch.
If there is a child out there inside the borders of the 50 states of the good old USA that can be considered “legally” “homeless,” there is also one or more corresponding adults that should be in jail as a result and there is an existing taxpayer funded government program that would and should be responsible for housing, clothing, and feeding said child in a fashion worthy of a king by most international (read that United Nations) standards.
In fact, our imperial Federal Government of the United By God States of America and by example, our individual state governments, impose higher standards on how we treat our pet goldfish, birds, dogs, and felines than most foreign countries impose on young humans under the age of 18.
That said, all you have to do is go to these same foreign countries to see true homelessness and the horror it inflicts on children.
If you've been around this blog before you would know that I served some time back in the late 1970’s on a ship stationed in Subic Bay Phillippines.
Being an innocent young man from rural Alabama that had never done and seen a lot of things at that time, I was horrified to find young children roaming alone on the streets of Olongapo City outside the gates of our Navy Base.
The first thing I witnessed after leaving the confines of the base were the girls standing in “bonka boats” in the Olongapo river just outside the guard’s gate. A "bonka boat" was a small dougout canoe with a single outrigger like you see in old movies about the south Pacific.
Yes, these kinds of boats weren't just a figment of Hollywood's imagination.
The young girls, no more than ten or twelve years old, would stand precariously on crates or other supports (in order to make themselves look older and taller) in some kind of cobbled together formal looking dress gown and utter some variation of the phrase:
“hey Joe, throw me a Peso…I show you my tits…”
Accompanying these young girls would be a young boy whose job it was to either catch the peso if it was thrown directly into the boat, else jump into the feces and garbage stained water to capture the money.
I hate to say that our men in uniform enjoyed making the kids jump into that horrible, nasty water to retrieve a coin that at the time was worth somewhere between ten and twenty cents.
Then once you were across the river and into town, you were assaulted with literally hundreds of unescorted children everywhere, selling everything from chewing gum to their own bodies.
I remember walking down the street one evening and feeling someone rubbing the hair on my arm (I’m sorta a hairy dude, except on the top of my head these days.) It was a a little boy that couldn’t have been older than six or eight years old who was selling packs of Wrigleys Chewing gum.
I bought a pack.
What I realized was that the Filipino people treated their children like profit centers…like employees or lawnmowers. Once you were able to walk and talk and wipe your own butt, you also had to go out and earn your share of your own living, and by default your family’s living…
IF you actually had a family.
Many of these children were the products of the transactions between the American military and Filipino prostitutes and just like the children of American solders in Vietnam, they were at best second class citizens. Many of these kids aparently had no family that claimed them, and God knows what abuses they endured as a result.
Where did they sleep?
What did they eat?
The Marcos government, possessor of an infinite supply of women's shoes, certainly didn't step in to ensure their safety.
Did you know that the Phillippines (not England) has the second largest English speaking population in the ENTIRE world?
No?
Well then...I just taught you something in my ramblings...
Here in Georgia, DFACS (the Department of Family and Childrens Services) is one of the biggest abusers of children because of their ineptitude in managing children's affairs, and if I were a child today I think that I would almost choose homelessness over being under the supervision of the so called
GOVERNMENT OFFICIALS...
Can't live with them...
And some can't live without them...
I was cruising around the WWW tonight trying to catch up on the news and the goings on in the world after our guests left town today.
Since I’m particularly cranky these days, and since we just got through entertaining three teenaged girls overnight, this story caught my eye and I realized that I haven’t opined on the issue of homeless children in a while.
Among other things, they say:
SAO PAULO, Brazil--More than 1,000 children have been living underneath highway overpasses, inside tunnels and on city squares in South America's biggest city, according to a study reported by Brazilian media Saturday.
The study, conducted by Sao Paulo city officials, showed that about 1,030 children are homeless in Sao Paulo, a city of more than 10 million people, the Estado de S. Paulo newspaper said.
It said another 3,000 who are not homeless work on the streets, selling candy or begging to help their families.
I feel like spewing some venom on this subject, so please return your tray table and seatback to the upright and locked position while I tell you how I feel.
FIRST of all, in this country, there is absolutely no reason that there should be any “homeless” children.
None at all.
Zero.
Zilch.
If there is a child out there inside the borders of the 50 states of the good old USA that can be considered “legally” “homeless,” there is also one or more corresponding adults that should be in jail as a result and there is an existing taxpayer funded government program that would and should be responsible for housing, clothing, and feeding said child in a fashion worthy of a king by most international (read that United Nations) standards.
In fact, our imperial Federal Government of the United By God States of America and by example, our individual state governments, impose higher standards on how we treat our pet goldfish, birds, dogs, and felines than most foreign countries impose on young humans under the age of 18.
That said, all you have to do is go to these same foreign countries to see true homelessness and the horror it inflicts on children.
If you've been around this blog before you would know that I served some time back in the late 1970’s on a ship stationed in Subic Bay Phillippines.
Being an innocent young man from rural Alabama that had never done and seen a lot of things at that time, I was horrified to find young children roaming alone on the streets of Olongapo City outside the gates of our Navy Base.
The first thing I witnessed after leaving the confines of the base were the girls standing in “bonka boats” in the Olongapo river just outside the guard’s gate. A "bonka boat" was a small dougout canoe with a single outrigger like you see in old movies about the south Pacific.
Yes, these kinds of boats weren't just a figment of Hollywood's imagination.
The young girls, no more than ten or twelve years old, would stand precariously on crates or other supports (in order to make themselves look older and taller) in some kind of cobbled together formal looking dress gown and utter some variation of the phrase:
“hey Joe, throw me a Peso…I show you my tits…”
Accompanying these young girls would be a young boy whose job it was to either catch the peso if it was thrown directly into the boat, else jump into the feces and garbage stained water to capture the money.
I hate to say that our men in uniform enjoyed making the kids jump into that horrible, nasty water to retrieve a coin that at the time was worth somewhere between ten and twenty cents.
Then once you were across the river and into town, you were assaulted with literally hundreds of unescorted children everywhere, selling everything from chewing gum to their own bodies.
I remember walking down the street one evening and feeling someone rubbing the hair on my arm (I’m sorta a hairy dude, except on the top of my head these days.) It was a a little boy that couldn’t have been older than six or eight years old who was selling packs of Wrigleys Chewing gum.
I bought a pack.
What I realized was that the Filipino people treated their children like profit centers…like employees or lawnmowers. Once you were able to walk and talk and wipe your own butt, you also had to go out and earn your share of your own living, and by default your family’s living…
IF you actually had a family.
Many of these children were the products of the transactions between the American military and Filipino prostitutes and just like the children of American solders in Vietnam, they were at best second class citizens. Many of these kids aparently had no family that claimed them, and God knows what abuses they endured as a result.
Where did they sleep?
What did they eat?
The Marcos government, possessor of an infinite supply of women's shoes, certainly didn't step in to ensure their safety.
Did you know that the Phillippines (not England) has the second largest English speaking population in the ENTIRE world?
No?
Well then...I just taught you something in my ramblings...
Here in Georgia, DFACS (the Department of Family and Childrens Services) is one of the biggest abusers of children because of their ineptitude in managing children's affairs, and if I were a child today I think that I would almost choose homelessness over being under the supervision of the so called
GOVERNMENT OFFICIALS...
Can't live with them...
And some can't live without them...
