Or Possibly…No Brain?
OK, I feel like saying something ugly this morning.
I’ve spent much of the past two years on a desert island—intellectually and philosophically—as I have done my volunteer work in the theater here in the Golden Isles.
The clues that there could be problems and conflict were delivered early and often, but being the tolerant, self-effacing fool that I am, I chose to ignore these signs of dissent in the interest of broadening my horizons.
I can now authoritatively make the following proclamations, and nothing anyone can say will change my mind:
99.9% of the people involved in “Community Theater” are pompous, self-indulgent, ungrateful, mindless idiots that live and die to get their lumbering carcasses and unspectacular faces on the stage in public, at any cost.
The other 0.1% of the “community theater” volunteers are ignorant, yet often highly talented people like me, who are just passing through, providing solid ground and traction as the star wanna-be’s stumble toward their place in the spotlight.
These people, what I call “theater geeks,” act as their own judge, jury, and executioner in the comical drama of their little theater worlds, and the death sentence can be earned in a variety of ways. Thus far I’ve managed to stumble upon two methods.
The first method is rather classic, and it is a well know faux pas in many organizations like private businesses and even church.
Theater Rule #1:
Never, never ever, make the “powers what be” look bad. Your success is their failure, no matter how much your efforts advance the progress of the theater as a whole.
I worked for a year with The Island Players Theater Company here on St. Simons Island, and in that time I managed to piss off everyone that had ever built a set for their productions. They did everything that they could to derail my own efforts, including demanding that I employ the worst incompetent volunteers they could muster, and finally boycotting entirely my construction efforts on Agatha Christie’s “The Mousetrap.”
When I completed the Mousetrap set essentially by myself, expending 350 hours of my time on the effort, they then omitted my name from the playbill and program. I had season ticket holders calling me and telling me that my work was the best they had ever seen in a show, but the “powers what be” were unable to stomach that I—a mere amateur, a man with NO PRIOR THEATER EXPERIENCE—could build sets better than a bunch of ham fisted retired schoolteachers and pawn shop owners. These people, wearing shiny new steel toed boots, crisp leather tool aprons, and brandishing expensive cordless screwdrivers, were about as effective at set construction as I would be going to the Super Bowl stadium wearing a football uniform.
Do you get my drift?
I lasted through one additional set construction effort working for a shallow, ungrateful woman that called herself a producer, under the auspices of another modest woman who had “designed and built sets for twenty years and always won the ‘best set’ award”, and once again when the playbill came out they mysteriously omitted my name as assistant set designer and set construction chief.
“Oh…so sorry, it was an oversight…”
After several other incidents, upheavals, and intentional slights, I assessed my position, and chose to cut my losses last March by terminating my relationship with TIP.
Thereafter I looked across the Torrez Causeway to the mainland and greener pastures, so to speak.
There are two community theater opportunities in Brunswick—The Ritz Theater, and the CAPE Theater.
I wrote about and displayed pictures of the elaborate set I designed and constructed for Charles Dickens “A Christmas Carol” here on this blog last December. My experience with the show’s director Heather and the producer Rob couldn’t have been more positive. They outlined the schedule and my tasks, I produced what we needed, the show was a GREAT success.
I’d actually pay money to work with them at the Ritz again.
My soul was healed, and my enthusiasm for the theater January 1st was at an all time high.
Unfortunately, I didn’t make it out of the month of January with the same attitude because, you see…
I WAS FIRED FROM A VOLUNTEER SET CONSTRUCTION JOB YESTERDAY! (and I was the only person working on the set.)
Yes indeed, Ladies and Gentlemen, the silly bitch running the “You’re A Good Man Charley Brown” dinner theater got her thong in a bunch (or her boxers in a bunch—who knows?) and sent me an E-mail yesterday morning telling me to return the theater’s tools and supplies I had been dragging around in my car’s trunk for a month because “I obviously didn’t intend to honor my commitments to the CAPE Theater.”
WTF?
Needless to say I was shocked, but I’ve also developed the attitude that I’m not going to grovel in order to be ALLOWED to work for free.
And what was the hideous crime that I was guilty of that caused me to receive the “Theater Death Sentence”? It’s quite simple, actually…I violated Theater Rule #2 (see below)
Theater Rule #2:
Never, never ever, ignore a female theater geek when she stomps her little (or humongous) foot and demands that you do something “right now.”
You see, I had a little bout with a chest cold for a couple of weeks this month, and instead of completing the set on the unrealistic original schedule that “theater geek lady” had planned for me (but not discussed with me), I was working on a schedule that would have the set components completed in the actual order as the cast needed them, finishing this week—over a week before the show opened February 3rd.
My drop dead date was last Thursday, and I had easily beat the date by finishing Snoopy’s doghouse on Tuesday, with only a little painting and final details to address. Then “theater geek lady” decided that she didn’t like the size of the dog house (something we had discussed in detail prior to construction) and she wanted me to cut it down in size. No PROBLEM, except that the modifications required re-cutting virtually every single board in the structure. Really, it was no problem—just let me revise my drawings and calculations and I’ll knock it out for you, I replied.
Problem is, I couldn’t get it done on Thursday because I spent Thursday afternoon getting a battery installed in the Mustang and by the time I got to the church the building was locked up and I didn’t have a key.
Pesky details aside, when I checked e-mail on my way out the door Friday morning to go finish the set, I learned that I was fired. I even gave the woman a chance to allow me to finish yesterday, but all she could do was rant about how I had their stuff and demand that I return it by noon, else they wouldn’t reimburse me for materials I had paid for out of MY wallet.
Being the insidious incompetent that I am, I notified her that she could keep my $40 and consider it to be my LAST donation to CAPE theater in money or time, and that I would return the tools and materials to the church by noon. By “the church” I meant the Methodist Church where the play was actually being produced, not the Presbyterian Church where I had built the set.
Then she started bitching because I would not return the tools and lay them at her feet, presumably so that she could browbeat me in person and then kiss and make up. "So Sorry" crazy "theater geek lady" but "this Homey don't play that kiss and make up shit..."
I had the tools inside the Methodist Church by noon, and I trust that the CAPE theater will have a WONDERFUL production.
As a post script analysis, I realized that I had yet again actually violated another theater rule in this process:
Theater Rule #3
Never, never ever, let the theater geeks know that you could care less about ever getting your lumbering carcass and face on their stage.
You see, getting your lumbering carcass and face on stage is what the theater is all about, at least down here on the Georgia coast. NOTHING else matters. People pimp each other back and forth, diddling around behind the scenes, waiting until it's their turn to be on stage.
It doesn't matter if you can actually ACT or DANCE or SING--you get to be on stage by kissing ass and earning your place in the spotlight doing all of the crap that needs doing.
Those pesky auditions are just a formality--most of the good parts are already taken no matter how good you do reading for a part. I've seen great singers and exceptional actors turned away, never to return again, simply because the theater geeks "owed" themselves or someone a part in a play. Tit for Tat, once you sell your soul to the devil, you become one of "THEM."
I refuse to be one of "THEM."
Seriously, it would appear that once you make it to a certain level in the hierarchy, you can then sit on your larels bashing all of the new volunteers while you impatiently wait until your turn comes up to bore an audience to death with a mediocre performance.
F**K the Theater and most of the “Theater People.”
Who the hell do they think they are anyway?
Saturday, January 28, 2006
A Cold Day In Hell
How Stupid Do They Think We Are?
It seems that the poor Iranian government is lamenting the lack of direct flights between Tehran and the United States:
Iran has asked the United States to allow direct flights between the two countries after a break of more than two decades, a senior civil aviation official said on Thursday.
The request comes as the United States and its European Union allies are pressing for the Islamic Republic to be reported to the United Nations Security Council where it could face possible sanctions for its nuclear program.
"We sent a letter to the relevant American officials on Wednesday, announcing Iran's willingness to resume direct flights," Nourollah Rezai-Niaraki, head of Iran's Civil Aviation Organization, told state television.
He said the decision to make the request was taken by hardline Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad due to demand from the large Iranian community living in the United States.
"They have repeatedly complained about wasting time and losing their baggage on connecting flights," the official said.
Can they possibly be serious?
Does Mahmoud Ahmadinejad honestly believe that US citizens are going to allow non-stop direct flights from a terrorist country to land on our shores?
Notice I mention “US citizens” when I reference my guess as to the odds of this happening—the POLITICIANS at the FAA are the unknowns in this equation.
I have an idea.
Let’s allow direct flights, one way, from the US to Tehran, then load the airliner with crash test dummies wired with explosives set to explode on landing.
Sort of our own “reverse Jihad”, if you know what I mean…
It seems that the poor Iranian government is lamenting the lack of direct flights between Tehran and the United States:
Iran has asked the United States to allow direct flights between the two countries after a break of more than two decades, a senior civil aviation official said on Thursday.
The request comes as the United States and its European Union allies are pressing for the Islamic Republic to be reported to the United Nations Security Council where it could face possible sanctions for its nuclear program.
"We sent a letter to the relevant American officials on Wednesday, announcing Iran's willingness to resume direct flights," Nourollah Rezai-Niaraki, head of Iran's Civil Aviation Organization, told state television.
He said the decision to make the request was taken by hardline Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad due to demand from the large Iranian community living in the United States.
"They have repeatedly complained about wasting time and losing their baggage on connecting flights," the official said.
Can they possibly be serious?
Does Mahmoud Ahmadinejad honestly believe that US citizens are going to allow non-stop direct flights from a terrorist country to land on our shores?
Notice I mention “US citizens” when I reference my guess as to the odds of this happening—the POLITICIANS at the FAA are the unknowns in this equation.
I have an idea.
Let’s allow direct flights, one way, from the US to Tehran, then load the airliner with crash test dummies wired with explosives set to explode on landing.
Sort of our own “reverse Jihad”, if you know what I mean…
Friday, January 27, 2006
Sitting Around With Our Thumb Stuck Somewhere…
Is that what YOU want us to do?
Things are getting VERY interesting in the Middle East these days. The Hamas victory in the Palestinian election yesterday presents some unique problems for Israel and US foreign policy.
Hurray, they had “democratic” elections, some people might say.
Yeah, RIGHT.
All this proves is that these people, the so-called “Palistinians,” approve of terrorism and the prospect of the annihilation of Israel—a stated goal of the Hamas party in the past.
You do know that Hamas is funded primarily by Iran, don’t you?
When you vote terrorists into office to represent you, I believe that you should fully expect to die the same death as your terrorist leaders. If I had my way they would all spend eternity glowing in the dark recesses of hell drinking oil rather than ice water.
If we keep on fighting among ourselves here stateside and pansy assing around with a touchy-feely limited projection of force in the Middle East, we’re all going to turn on the 6 AM news one morning and see a mushroom cloud rising out of Jerusalem and smoke rising out of NY City subway tunnels adjacent to collapsed bridges over the Hudson.
As for me, I’ll be sitting at the pool saying “told you so…”
Things are getting VERY interesting in the Middle East these days. The Hamas victory in the Palestinian election yesterday presents some unique problems for Israel and US foreign policy.
Hurray, they had “democratic” elections, some people might say.
Yeah, RIGHT.
All this proves is that these people, the so-called “Palistinians,” approve of terrorism and the prospect of the annihilation of Israel—a stated goal of the Hamas party in the past.
You do know that Hamas is funded primarily by Iran, don’t you?
When you vote terrorists into office to represent you, I believe that you should fully expect to die the same death as your terrorist leaders. If I had my way they would all spend eternity glowing in the dark recesses of hell drinking oil rather than ice water.
If we keep on fighting among ourselves here stateside and pansy assing around with a touchy-feely limited projection of force in the Middle East, we’re all going to turn on the 6 AM news one morning and see a mushroom cloud rising out of Jerusalem and smoke rising out of NY City subway tunnels adjacent to collapsed bridges over the Hudson.
As for me, I’ll be sitting at the pool saying “told you so…”
Funny, Or Just Plain Sad?
Here...You Decide...
These guys were definately funny...BUT
What do we call THESE guys?
These guys were definately funny...BUT
What do we call THESE guys?
Thursday, January 26, 2006
Say What?
More Liberal Media Bullshit
Maybe I’m just a bit cranky this evening…
Maybe I’m just picking nits here…
Or maybe I’m seeing a severe case of a double standard. Check this story out:
Bradenton, Florida--An angry father who marched into a classroom and punched a teacher's assistant in the face said Wednesday he was protecting his 15-year-old daughter, who had accused the man of inappropriately touching her.
Dave F. Swafford, 42, was charged with felony battery on a school employee after he hit the 35-year-old aide in front of a class full of students at Lakewood Ranch High School near Bradenton Tuesday morning, authorities said. He was also named "Father of the Year" by a local radio station for his actions.
"I'm not real proud of what I did," Swafford told The Associated Press Wednesday. "You have to protect your children, and my daughter does not lie to me."
Because of the allegation, the school placed the assistant on paid leave Tuesday, school district spokeswoman Margi Nanney said. He has not been charged, but sheriff's spokesman Dave Bristow said deputies are investigating.
The man has been employed by the school district since 1999 and has a clean personnel record, Nanney said. His primary job is "time-out" teacher, overseeing in-school suspension. His name is being withheld by the AP because he has not been charged.
WTF?
Since when has the Associated Press ever even THOUGHT of withholding the name of any conservative or Libertarian or Republican accused of any possible legal infraction because the individual had not been formally charged with a crime?
Can you say never?
Accused of illegal wiretapping?
Stop the presses...
Accused of campaign finance fraud?
Rewrite the headlines...
Accused of having a big up-front payment on a book deal while serving as a US Representative(when NY Senator Clinton ends up doing the EXACT same thing a few years later with no repercussions)?
Lose your seat in the US House of Representatives...
Yet they (the Associated Press) somehow elects to respect the privacy of this alleged pervert, a grown 35 year old man putting his hands on teenaged girls, because he hasn’t been formally CHARGED WITH A CRIME.?
See, many liberals are perverts...many liberals love perverts...some liberals encourage you to stick body part A into someone elses body part B, regardless of age, sex, religion, or national origin, and then when your affected body part starts to rot and fall off, the stupid assed compassionate liberals then come to MY DOOR and demand that that I pay to buy the drugs to keep your body part from falling off.
I say that you should keep your body parts out of places they don't belong, else face the consequences, in the PRIVACY of your own home...a place that liberals live and die to defend, at least as long as they can't take your home away from you and give it to a developer to build a hotel or marina in order to increase the tax base--in that case, all deals are off.
Have at it folks...go forth and multiply (and divide, and add, and subtract, and differentiate, and integrate...whatever) just keep your hand and your politicians hands out of my wallet and off of MY property, dammit.
Why doesn’t the AP crawl over to Tom Delay, Newt Gingrich, and Dick Cheney and offer their sincerest apology for dragging their name through the mud for months if not years prior to any formal charges being tendered?
Yeah, I thought so…
AHHHHHHHHHHHHhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.....clunk (the sound of me falling out of my chair)
Maybe I’m just a bit cranky this evening…
Maybe I’m just picking nits here…
Or maybe I’m seeing a severe case of a double standard. Check this story out:
Bradenton, Florida--An angry father who marched into a classroom and punched a teacher's assistant in the face said Wednesday he was protecting his 15-year-old daughter, who had accused the man of inappropriately touching her.
Dave F. Swafford, 42, was charged with felony battery on a school employee after he hit the 35-year-old aide in front of a class full of students at Lakewood Ranch High School near Bradenton Tuesday morning, authorities said. He was also named "Father of the Year" by a local radio station for his actions.
"I'm not real proud of what I did," Swafford told The Associated Press Wednesday. "You have to protect your children, and my daughter does not lie to me."
Because of the allegation, the school placed the assistant on paid leave Tuesday, school district spokeswoman Margi Nanney said. He has not been charged, but sheriff's spokesman Dave Bristow said deputies are investigating.
The man has been employed by the school district since 1999 and has a clean personnel record, Nanney said. His primary job is "time-out" teacher, overseeing in-school suspension. His name is being withheld by the AP because he has not been charged.
WTF?
Since when has the Associated Press ever even THOUGHT of withholding the name of any conservative or Libertarian or Republican accused of any possible legal infraction because the individual had not been formally charged with a crime?
Can you say never?
Accused of illegal wiretapping?
Stop the presses...
Accused of campaign finance fraud?
Rewrite the headlines...
Accused of having a big up-front payment on a book deal while serving as a US Representative(when NY Senator Clinton ends up doing the EXACT same thing a few years later with no repercussions)?
Lose your seat in the US House of Representatives...
Yet they (the Associated Press) somehow elects to respect the privacy of this alleged pervert, a grown 35 year old man putting his hands on teenaged girls, because he hasn’t been formally CHARGED WITH A CRIME.?
See, many liberals are perverts...many liberals love perverts...some liberals encourage you to stick body part A into someone elses body part B, regardless of age, sex, religion, or national origin, and then when your affected body part starts to rot and fall off, the stupid assed compassionate liberals then come to MY DOOR and demand that that I pay to buy the drugs to keep your body part from falling off.
I say that you should keep your body parts out of places they don't belong, else face the consequences, in the PRIVACY of your own home...a place that liberals live and die to defend, at least as long as they can't take your home away from you and give it to a developer to build a hotel or marina in order to increase the tax base--in that case, all deals are off.
Have at it folks...go forth and multiply (and divide, and add, and subtract, and differentiate, and integrate...whatever) just keep your hand and your politicians hands out of my wallet and off of MY property, dammit.
Why doesn’t the AP crawl over to Tom Delay, Newt Gingrich, and Dick Cheney and offer their sincerest apology for dragging their name through the mud for months if not years prior to any formal charges being tendered?
Yeah, I thought so…
AHHHHHHHHHHHHhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.....clunk (the sound of me falling out of my chair)
Wednesday, January 25, 2006
Blaa Blaa Blaa
The Insanity Continues
H U R R A Y for the politicians…they’re on the ball again today.
I feel safer already.
The TV cameras were rolling, and themoronic compassionate concerned sound bites were flowing like water:
West Virginia Gov. Joe Manchin urged the federal government on Tuesday to follow his state's lead and come up with new protections for coal miners.
"I never want to tell another child that I'm not sure if Daddy has enough air," Manchin said. "I don't want to tell another wife that we haven't found him yet but that we're still looking."
Hey Governor Joe, I have an answer to the problem of ensuring “daddy having enough air” in the future.
Why don’t the politicians like you just shut the hell up and stop sucking all of the air out of the room whenever there is a photo op.
Better yet, let’s just close down all of the coal mines, stop buying oil from foreign sources, and all move back into caves and get our heat and light from candles made from animal fat…no…wait a minute…PETA has a problem with that idea also.
Oops, I guess if we start living in caves we’ll have to follow federal and state mining regulations by default, won’t we?
Now let me see...where did I put my SCSR (Self Contained Self Rescuer)?
And another thing--where the heck did the name “Self Contained Self Rescuer” come from any way?
I smell government influence in there somewhere in the naming process.
If I were in charge of naming a device that you carry with you that supplies emergency oxygen while you’re working miles underground, I would probably call it something like “FRESH AIR” or “OH SHIT, I DON’T WANT TO DIE AIR.”
Maybe not...
Continuing reading along in the news story:
Deputy Labor Secretary Steven Law said federal officials were reviewing sweeping mine safety legislation Manchin pushed through the West Virginia Legislature on Monday. That legislation was triggered by the deaths of 14 miners in recent weeks at two West Virginia mines.
Another miner also was killed in a roof collapse at a Kentucky mine Jan. 10. Law said the Bush administration was moving "very expeditiously with our own review of any additional changes or provisions that we need to include through the regulatory process."
Law said the federal review included consideration of emergency safety rules that could be put in place quickly. Sen. Jay Rockefeller, D-W.Va., said immediate action should be taken by the mine agency to put extra breathing devices in the mines. "Now, we will do that by law if we have to," Rockefeller said.
You tell ‘em Jay…you legislative “studmuffin.” Get out your pointy legislative stick and give them all a good poking.
Federal law requires miners to carry oxygen packs that provide about an hour's worth of air. There is evidence that some of the 12 miners killed in the Jan. 2 Sago mine accident used their oxygen devices, yet it took rescuers more than 40 hours to bring the victims above ground.
The mine agency has just launched a review of the oxygen packs used by underground coal miners after previously withdrawing a Clinton-era proposal that would have studied the devices and possibly led to new rules governing their use.
The West Virginia legislation requires the stockpiling of breathing devices for trapped miners, better tracking of miners underground and faster emergency responses.
Ok, I‘ll try to forget the emotion here in this story for a moment, if I can, and do the math to find out what it would have taken to have saved the lives of those 12 miners killed in the January 2 accident.
12 miners x 40 hours x 1 hour of air per oxygen pack = 480 oxygen packs
That seems simple enough at first glance, but I’ve done a little checking and these things cost over $500 EACH.
We’re talking $ 250,0000 worth of oxygen packs—$22,500 per miner.
Next question...
Where are the politicians and government rocket scientists going to tell the mine owners to put their new quarter million dollar “Self Contained Self Rescuers”?
At the very end of the mine?
In the middle of the shaft?
How about lining the walls of the mine every 25 feet with a giant stockpile of SCSR’s?
The next thing you know the mine unions will be bitching because the mines have to lay off employees to offset the cost of the new SCSR's.
Another problem is that SCSR’s are inherently HIGHLY flammable, you know?
Some consist of small bottles of pure oxygen like SCUBA divers use. Other’s operate on the same principal as the oxygen canisters they use in airliners.
Remember that ValueJet DC-9 that caught fire and nose dived into the Everglades outside Miami back in the mid 1990’s. That fire and subsequent loss of life was caused when an oxygen canister ignited in a cargo hold under the cockpit and set some used tires on fire.
So won’t that be a wonderful solution to mine safety, filling mines with flammable (and potentially explosive) bottles of oxygen or canisters of oxygen producing chemicals positioned so that they are in convienant reach of every miner, every second of the workday.
The Government, under President Clinton, took a shot at studying the various models of SCSR’s that were on the market, and found that they all are not created equal. Some models barely deliver an hour’s worth of oxygen, while others will last beyond four hours if the wearer is at rest rather than running for their life or trying to dig themselves out of a cave-in.
Having worked heavy construction myself (but not in a mine), I guarantee you that the miners aren't wearing their SCSR's right now because everything you have to carry and strap on your body ends up being a pain in the ass while you're trying to do your job. I spent years wandering around jobsites with a hardhat, safety glasses, wearing steel toed boots and a full body safety harness, and let me tell you that it is a poor fashion statement at best and an actual encumberance to performing your work tasks at worse.
I actually feel sorry for the WV Governor because he is basically forced to jump on this stupid bandwagon by the MEDIA, and if he dared to utter facts and figures like I've been spouting over the past two days he would be crucified in print.
Ditto for the mine owners and officials.
I said this before, and I'll say it again:
MINING SAFETY IS AT A RECORD HIGH, WITH INJURIES AND DEATH AT A RECORD LOW.
We don't need further government meddling in the process.
It's just that simple...
H U R R A Y for the politicians…they’re on the ball again today.
I feel safer already.
The TV cameras were rolling, and the
West Virginia Gov. Joe Manchin urged the federal government on Tuesday to follow his state's lead and come up with new protections for coal miners.
"I never want to tell another child that I'm not sure if Daddy has enough air," Manchin said. "I don't want to tell another wife that we haven't found him yet but that we're still looking."
Hey Governor Joe, I have an answer to the problem of ensuring “daddy having enough air” in the future.
Why don’t the politicians like you just shut the hell up and stop sucking all of the air out of the room whenever there is a photo op.
Better yet, let’s just close down all of the coal mines, stop buying oil from foreign sources, and all move back into caves and get our heat and light from candles made from animal fat…no…wait a minute…PETA has a problem with that idea also.
Oops, I guess if we start living in caves we’ll have to follow federal and state mining regulations by default, won’t we?
Now let me see...where did I put my SCSR (Self Contained Self Rescuer)?
And another thing--where the heck did the name “Self Contained Self Rescuer” come from any way?
I smell government influence in there somewhere in the naming process.
If I were in charge of naming a device that you carry with you that supplies emergency oxygen while you’re working miles underground, I would probably call it something like “FRESH AIR” or “OH SHIT, I DON’T WANT TO DIE AIR.”
Maybe not...
Continuing reading along in the news story:
Deputy Labor Secretary Steven Law said federal officials were reviewing sweeping mine safety legislation Manchin pushed through the West Virginia Legislature on Monday. That legislation was triggered by the deaths of 14 miners in recent weeks at two West Virginia mines.
Another miner also was killed in a roof collapse at a Kentucky mine Jan. 10. Law said the Bush administration was moving "very expeditiously with our own review of any additional changes or provisions that we need to include through the regulatory process."
Law said the federal review included consideration of emergency safety rules that could be put in place quickly. Sen. Jay Rockefeller, D-W.Va., said immediate action should be taken by the mine agency to put extra breathing devices in the mines. "Now, we will do that by law if we have to," Rockefeller said.
You tell ‘em Jay…you legislative “studmuffin.” Get out your pointy legislative stick and give them all a good poking.
Federal law requires miners to carry oxygen packs that provide about an hour's worth of air. There is evidence that some of the 12 miners killed in the Jan. 2 Sago mine accident used their oxygen devices, yet it took rescuers more than 40 hours to bring the victims above ground.
The mine agency has just launched a review of the oxygen packs used by underground coal miners after previously withdrawing a Clinton-era proposal that would have studied the devices and possibly led to new rules governing their use.
The West Virginia legislation requires the stockpiling of breathing devices for trapped miners, better tracking of miners underground and faster emergency responses.
Ok, I‘ll try to forget the emotion here in this story for a moment, if I can, and do the math to find out what it would have taken to have saved the lives of those 12 miners killed in the January 2 accident.
12 miners x 40 hours x 1 hour of air per oxygen pack = 480 oxygen packs
That seems simple enough at first glance, but I’ve done a little checking and these things cost over $500 EACH.
We’re talking $ 250,0000 worth of oxygen packs—$22,500 per miner.
Next question...
Where are the politicians and government rocket scientists going to tell the mine owners to put their new quarter million dollar “Self Contained Self Rescuers”?
At the very end of the mine?
In the middle of the shaft?
How about lining the walls of the mine every 25 feet with a giant stockpile of SCSR’s?
The next thing you know the mine unions will be bitching because the mines have to lay off employees to offset the cost of the new SCSR's.
Another problem is that SCSR’s are inherently HIGHLY flammable, you know?
Some consist of small bottles of pure oxygen like SCUBA divers use. Other’s operate on the same principal as the oxygen canisters they use in airliners.
Remember that ValueJet DC-9 that caught fire and nose dived into the Everglades outside Miami back in the mid 1990’s. That fire and subsequent loss of life was caused when an oxygen canister ignited in a cargo hold under the cockpit and set some used tires on fire.
So won’t that be a wonderful solution to mine safety, filling mines with flammable (and potentially explosive) bottles of oxygen or canisters of oxygen producing chemicals positioned so that they are in convienant reach of every miner, every second of the workday.
The Government, under President Clinton, took a shot at studying the various models of SCSR’s that were on the market, and found that they all are not created equal. Some models barely deliver an hour’s worth of oxygen, while others will last beyond four hours if the wearer is at rest rather than running for their life or trying to dig themselves out of a cave-in.
Having worked heavy construction myself (but not in a mine), I guarantee you that the miners aren't wearing their SCSR's right now because everything you have to carry and strap on your body ends up being a pain in the ass while you're trying to do your job. I spent years wandering around jobsites with a hardhat, safety glasses, wearing steel toed boots and a full body safety harness, and let me tell you that it is a poor fashion statement at best and an actual encumberance to performing your work tasks at worse.
I actually feel sorry for the WV Governor because he is basically forced to jump on this stupid bandwagon by the MEDIA, and if he dared to utter facts and figures like I've been spouting over the past two days he would be crucified in print.
Ditto for the mine owners and officials.
I said this before, and I'll say it again:
MINING SAFETY IS AT A RECORD HIGH, WITH INJURIES AND DEATH AT A RECORD LOW.
We don't need further government meddling in the process.
It's just that simple...
Tuesday, January 24, 2006
Federal Mine Safety?
Baah Humbug...
I’ve watched with amusement these past few weeks as the politicians have preened for the TV cameras and the media has done somersaults and back-flips over the horrors of corporate greed and the need for additional government intervention in the mining industry.
I heard Senior West Virginia Senator Robert “Pretty Pretty” Byrd in a sound bite on TV yesterday lamenting that it took 11 HOURS for the searchers to even start looking for the men killed in the latest ccident.
Does anyone honestly believe that KKK Byrd would have gone running into a smoke filled mine in his younger days while the fire was still burning to save two of his co-workers?
I think that Senator Byrd needs to have his med’s adjusted—better yet, I wish that the people of West Virginia would just do the right thing and take a risk on replacing Senator Rockefeller’s counterpart in the US Senate before Byrd petrifies in office…
Don’t get me wrong here because I agree that it is a horror that fourteen souls have been lost in coal mine accidents in recent weeks, but I also assert that these brave gentlemen chose to accept the risk and higher pay associated with mining work over getting shot in the head by some low-life bastard while employed selling beer and lottery tickets and earning the lower pay as a convienance store clerk.
Being a veteran of heavy industrial construction, I think that I bring a certain insight to this pity party that the average news reader lacks in doing the analysis. I’m going to tell you a couple of things about safety as it relates to mining and heavy construction.
Let me preface my comments by stating that I believe that the Imperial Federal Government of the United By-God States of America has no constitutional business getting involved in the intricate details of mining safety.
It’s just that simple.
Adams and Jefferson didn’t write “life, liberty, and a really, really safe coal mining job” into the constitution anywhere as far as I can read.
It’s not Washington’s business beyond where we already are today with all of the unenforceable pansy assed OSHA (Occupational Safety Health Administration) regulations that are already out there.
Face it, Labor laws and OSHA regulations already say that you can’t hire 12 year old boys, hand them a burlap sack and a machete, then send them out to climb coconut trees to harvest coconuts in Miami.
OSHA’s meddling generally doesn’t stop accidents and loss of life—it’s only when the management and employees of a company exercise what could be considered common horse-sense while working that accidents are prevented and lives are saved.
OSHA is usually relegated to wandering in after the fact, placing blame, and then extracting a TAX, in the form of a MONETARY FINE, then they disappear over the horizon until the next calamity occurs.
Actually, since mining poses a unique risk, mines have to conform to yet another layer of government intervention, MSHA (the Mine Safety and Health Administration) division of the US Department of Labor. MSHA jumps in and busybodies around, but on the whole they have actually done a good deal of good since former Georgia Governor and Socialist Dictator loving Ex-President Jimmy “smile when you say that” Carter started the organization in 1978.
Mining historically has placed a premium on “Brawn” over “Brains”, but being an idiot and complete dumbass will get you killed in a mine (or any construction site) in an instant. Further, with the advances over the past fifty years utilizing automation to cut and remove the minerals from the ground, miners have been forced to go from “pick and shovel” handlers to machine operators.
Of course the unions have had yearly conniption fits as machines and automation have reduced the number of humans required to cut and remove a ton of coal, but injuries and fatalities have declined at an even greater rate than the reduced employment would have predicted.
By the way, if PETA (People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals) was around 100 years ago, our grandparents would probably have all frozen to death due to a lack of coal because the mules and horses used to pull the ore carts out of the mines would have been put out to pasture and hand fed sugar cubes and apples every day. Fortunately, electrically powered conveyors replaced the animal pulled cars and that national disaster was averted
I could ramble on for another ten pages, but instead just take a look at this page on the MSHA website that puts this all into perspective for me—sorta a “Cliff Notes” for mine safety:
OK, let’s take a look at the data before your eyes glaze over…
In 1900 there were 448,581 miners and 1,489 deaths, a rate of 3.31 deaths per 1000 miners.
Then move on to mining employment’s peak year in 1923 when 862,536 miners were wandering around under the ground, there were 2462 deaths—a rate of 2.85 deaths per 1,000 miners.
Keep looking…
1929? 3.34 deaths per thousand miners
1939? 1.99
1949? 1.20
1959? 1.43
1969? 1.52
1979? 0.55
1989? 0.41
1999? 0.31 deaths per thousand miners
In 2004, the most recent year in which final statistics are reported, there were 108,734 miners digging holes in the ground, but only 28 deaths—a rate of .26 deaths per 1,000 miners.
SEE THAT?
Mining deaths have dropped from 3.31 per 1000 miners in 1900 to 0.26 per 1000 miners in 2004...
A 305% DECREASE...GASP...GURGLE...PANT...HASSLE...
OH MY GOSH…IT CAN’T POSSIBLY BE TRUE…
NO *&%$# WAY….UHHHH UHHHH
Mining is supposed to be dangerous as hell they tell us.
That’s what the newspapers and TV reports say, right?
"WE NEED NEW LAWS" says the WV Governor and Old Man
Byrd.
MINERS NEED NEW PROTECTIONS…
I thought that the media and our Congress was telling us that mining companies, supported by the E-V-I-L Republican party and supervised by “Bush Appointees” is supposed to be throwing innocent Democrats from West Virginia into a endless deadly pit…an Abyss from which they run a substantial risk of never returning from each day when they don their hardhats and carry their little lunch buckets full of “Twinkees” into the damp darkness.
YOU STILL DON'T GET MY POINT?
Here it is, in a nutshell:
This is total, unadulterated media induced hysteria and political BULLSHIT.
(taking a big breath and checking my pulse)
Now...go out and find something really worth worrying about...
I’ve watched with amusement these past few weeks as the politicians have preened for the TV cameras and the media has done somersaults and back-flips over the horrors of corporate greed and the need for additional government intervention in the mining industry.
I heard Senior West Virginia Senator Robert “Pretty Pretty” Byrd in a sound bite on TV yesterday lamenting that it took 11 HOURS for the searchers to even start looking for the men killed in the latest ccident.
Does anyone honestly believe that KKK Byrd would have gone running into a smoke filled mine in his younger days while the fire was still burning to save two of his co-workers?
I think that Senator Byrd needs to have his med’s adjusted—better yet, I wish that the people of West Virginia would just do the right thing and take a risk on replacing Senator Rockefeller’s counterpart in the US Senate before Byrd petrifies in office…
Don’t get me wrong here because I agree that it is a horror that fourteen souls have been lost in coal mine accidents in recent weeks, but I also assert that these brave gentlemen chose to accept the risk and higher pay associated with mining work over getting shot in the head by some low-life bastard while employed selling beer and lottery tickets and earning the lower pay as a convienance store clerk.
Being a veteran of heavy industrial construction, I think that I bring a certain insight to this pity party that the average news reader lacks in doing the analysis. I’m going to tell you a couple of things about safety as it relates to mining and heavy construction.
Let me preface my comments by stating that I believe that the Imperial Federal Government of the United By-God States of America has no constitutional business getting involved in the intricate details of mining safety.
It’s just that simple.
Adams and Jefferson didn’t write “life, liberty, and a really, really safe coal mining job” into the constitution anywhere as far as I can read.
It’s not Washington’s business beyond where we already are today with all of the unenforceable pansy assed OSHA (Occupational Safety Health Administration) regulations that are already out there.
Face it, Labor laws and OSHA regulations already say that you can’t hire 12 year old boys, hand them a burlap sack and a machete, then send them out to climb coconut trees to harvest coconuts in Miami.
OSHA’s meddling generally doesn’t stop accidents and loss of life—it’s only when the management and employees of a company exercise what could be considered common horse-sense while working that accidents are prevented and lives are saved.
OSHA is usually relegated to wandering in after the fact, placing blame, and then extracting a TAX, in the form of a MONETARY FINE, then they disappear over the horizon until the next calamity occurs.
Actually, since mining poses a unique risk, mines have to conform to yet another layer of government intervention, MSHA (the Mine Safety and Health Administration) division of the US Department of Labor. MSHA jumps in and busybodies around, but on the whole they have actually done a good deal of good since former Georgia Governor and Socialist Dictator loving Ex-President Jimmy “smile when you say that” Carter started the organization in 1978.
Mining historically has placed a premium on “Brawn” over “Brains”, but being an idiot and complete dumbass will get you killed in a mine (or any construction site) in an instant. Further, with the advances over the past fifty years utilizing automation to cut and remove the minerals from the ground, miners have been forced to go from “pick and shovel” handlers to machine operators.
Of course the unions have had yearly conniption fits as machines and automation have reduced the number of humans required to cut and remove a ton of coal, but injuries and fatalities have declined at an even greater rate than the reduced employment would have predicted.
By the way, if PETA (People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals) was around 100 years ago, our grandparents would probably have all frozen to death due to a lack of coal because the mules and horses used to pull the ore carts out of the mines would have been put out to pasture and hand fed sugar cubes and apples every day. Fortunately, electrically powered conveyors replaced the animal pulled cars and that national disaster was averted
I could ramble on for another ten pages, but instead just take a look at this page on the MSHA website that puts this all into perspective for me—sorta a “Cliff Notes” for mine safety:
OK, let’s take a look at the data before your eyes glaze over…
In 1900 there were 448,581 miners and 1,489 deaths, a rate of 3.31 deaths per 1000 miners.
Then move on to mining employment’s peak year in 1923 when 862,536 miners were wandering around under the ground, there were 2462 deaths—a rate of 2.85 deaths per 1,000 miners.
Keep looking…
1929? 3.34 deaths per thousand miners
1939? 1.99
1949? 1.20
1959? 1.43
1969? 1.52
1979? 0.55
1989? 0.41
1999? 0.31 deaths per thousand miners
In 2004, the most recent year in which final statistics are reported, there were 108,734 miners digging holes in the ground, but only 28 deaths—a rate of .26 deaths per 1,000 miners.
SEE THAT?
Mining deaths have dropped from 3.31 per 1000 miners in 1900 to 0.26 per 1000 miners in 2004...
A 305% DECREASE...GASP...GURGLE...PANT...HASSLE...
OH MY GOSH…IT CAN’T POSSIBLY BE TRUE…
NO *&%$# WAY….UHHHH UHHHH
Mining is supposed to be dangerous as hell they tell us.
That’s what the newspapers and TV reports say, right?
"WE NEED NEW LAWS" says the WV Governor and Old Man
Byrd.
MINERS NEED NEW PROTECTIONS…
I thought that the media and our Congress was telling us that mining companies, supported by the E-V-I-L Republican party and supervised by “Bush Appointees” is supposed to be throwing innocent Democrats from West Virginia into a endless deadly pit…an Abyss from which they run a substantial risk of never returning from each day when they don their hardhats and carry their little lunch buckets full of “Twinkees” into the damp darkness.
YOU STILL DON'T GET MY POINT?
Here it is, in a nutshell:
This is total, unadulterated media induced hysteria and political BULLSHIT.
(taking a big breath and checking my pulse)
Now...go out and find something really worth worrying about...
Monday, January 23, 2006
I’m Feeling Arty Farty
Channeling My Inner Shakespeare, Michael Angello, and da Vinci
Geez, I’m glad my old guy friends from high school and college can’t see me now, else they’d give me a load of crap for the way I’m spending most of my time these days.
I’d might just have to put on a flannel shirt, go get in an old pickup truck, drive out to the woods, and shoot at something…AFTER having a couple of chili dogs with extra onions for lunch with a can of warm Budweiser beer.
Looking back over the past few days, my life barely resembles the way I spent my time twenty years ago, or even ten years ago. Of course my recent crappy health has dictated me taking up writing and other less-physical avocations other than standing on my feet 12 hours a day like I did back when the industrial construction business occupied most of my professional time.
Friday night we went to a “world music” concert at Brunswick’s historic Ritz Theater. The show featured a group called Dromedary—two well traveled guys from Athens, Georgia—that play a bunch of different styles of music from all over the world.
No vocals, just stringed instruments like the Peruvian Charango, a small 10 stringed guitar type instrument traditionally made using the shell of an armadillo for the body. In addition to the Spanish Guitar, they also played the Turkish Cumbus, the Appalachian Dulcimer, and the Mandolin.
Andrew’s and Rob’s music was exceptional, and I was disappointed that there was only about a half-house crowd of people that had the sense to try out something a little different in the way of entertainment.
I half expected someone to yell out “DO FREEBIRD” midway through the show because we live in the midst of a population of people that primarily eat food that you can put catsup on—why should their music be any different?
Any whooooo, they had a reception afterward at a bookstore across the street from the theater and we had the opportunity to meet the artists, buy a CD, and get their autograph.
On other fronts, I’ve previously mentioned that I have to get a 16”x20” print made of one of my photographs to be shown in February and March in the Coastal Heritage Art Exhibit. I’ve been procrastinating on the final frame selection for my entrée, and I have to submit my biography by this week for inclusion in the Exhibit program.
Since this is my first ever art show, I’m having trouble making my bio longer than 20 words. Right now it looks something like this:
“Virgil has been alive since 1959 and likes to use his camera when he’s not sleeping…”
I hope I’ll be struck with some inspiration in the next few days. I hate honking my own horn, although I’m told that I do a mean braggadocio in the presence of lovely ladies after a few Jack Daniels.
Maybe that’s the solution…
Finally, this set I’m building for CAPE Theater's Dinner Show “You’re A Good Man Charley Brown has been kicking my ass for the past three weeks. I never knew how hard it could be to build a “cartoon” set for a cast of adult actors playing children in a play. EVERYTHING has to be scaled up to look bigger than life, yet it has to be light weight so that the actors can move it on and off stage between acts and during the performance.
No 4x4’s and ¾” plywood, I’m working with 2x4’s and foam sheets varying from ½” to 2” thick. I’ve got little foam “BB's” blowing everywhere in the space I’m building in.
I bet I have 30 hours in design time doing drawing and sketching ideas, the hardest part being making it look “cute”, not “cheesy”—those definitions being primarily in the eye of the beholder.
Schroeder’s baby grand piano and Snoopy’s dog house are by far the hardest set pieces I have yet to finish, having already completed the school bus, Lucy’s Psychiatric Booth, and Sunday’s project—the “Kite Eating Tree.”
I'm also reading a script now, trying to develop my own version of the character "Piney" in John Patrick's play "A Bad year For Tomatoes" that will open in early May at the CAPE theater.
My rendition, if they actually cast me in the part, will be a cross between Billy Bob Thornton's character in the movie "Slingblade" and "Andy Griffeth's" Ernest T. Bass--with a little of "Green Acres" Mr. Haney thrown in for good measure.
I haven't acted in a play in almost two years, having protrayed the character Hanibal in John Patrick's "A Curious Savage" in the Spring of 2004. (The picture of me here on the blog comes from that play.)
In that production I portrayed a self-committed mental patient that thought that he could play the violin--but he couldn't.
Talk about a part fitting like a glove...
It was my first acting experience since the sixth grade, but it got me hooked on working in the theater and I've designed and built six sets in the past 22 months.
Me...ACTING...go figure.
Regarding my writing other than blogs, my two book projects are lagging badly, primarily due to neglect. I have the Novel outlined, some character development work done, and the first chapter written, and I've been staring at it almost continuously for the past six months, wishing that it would write itself.
No such luck so far.
If it were easy, everyone would be on the NY Times bestseller list, you know?
My cookbook, "The Redneck Gourmet" is much further along, having had several positive responses from publishers, but it is up to me to get the final copy together and most importantly, GET SOME NICE PICTURES OF MY FOOD, because people apparently won't buy cookbooks without PICTURES OF FOOD included in them.
Really, you can write a recipe that includes tree bark, dirt, honey, and a little salt, and if you publish it beside a pretty picture of a nice fat tenderloin steak and some asaparagus--people will buy a copy of your book and toss it out on their coffee table.
I, personally, being a cook, don't buy "coffee table" cookbooks and I'm not trying to write one either. Although "folksy" and descriptive, I intend my book to be used as a guide for actual cooking, mainly for one or two couples, but my publisher tells me that I have to get pictures for the book to sell, so I am.
Fortunately we've met a number of people here on St. Simons and Sea Island that have fantastic kitchens. Kitchens that cost more than my first house did, and we're talking about me catering some intimate dinners in return for the opportunity to make photographs.
Most of these rooms are full of things like Vulcan Ranges and Subzero Refrigerators. Some of these ranges have gas burners with enought BTU's to lift a hot air balloon off the ground. I'm thinking that I'll do most of my cooking here in the condo and reserve the final assembly for my host's home because working in a strange kitchen can wreck havoc with the preparation of my otherwise familiar recipes.
I just hope that I can attain the quality and taste in front of an audience that is typical of these recipes that I've worked so hard developing and learning at home. Wish me luck.
That about wraps things up on the home front here, other than my usual committment to regular blogging, which, with any luck, will continue unabated through the young year.
I don’t know if it is the left side or the right side of my brain that I’m using right now, but it’s getting a surprisingly good workout after years of prior neglect.
Now where’s my warm beer and catsup bottle…
Geez, I’m glad my old guy friends from high school and college can’t see me now, else they’d give me a load of crap for the way I’m spending most of my time these days.
I’d might just have to put on a flannel shirt, go get in an old pickup truck, drive out to the woods, and shoot at something…AFTER having a couple of chili dogs with extra onions for lunch with a can of warm Budweiser beer.
Looking back over the past few days, my life barely resembles the way I spent my time twenty years ago, or even ten years ago. Of course my recent crappy health has dictated me taking up writing and other less-physical avocations other than standing on my feet 12 hours a day like I did back when the industrial construction business occupied most of my professional time.
Friday night we went to a “world music” concert at Brunswick’s historic Ritz Theater. The show featured a group called Dromedary—two well traveled guys from Athens, Georgia—that play a bunch of different styles of music from all over the world.
No vocals, just stringed instruments like the Peruvian Charango, a small 10 stringed guitar type instrument traditionally made using the shell of an armadillo for the body. In addition to the Spanish Guitar, they also played the Turkish Cumbus, the Appalachian Dulcimer, and the Mandolin.
Andrew’s and Rob’s music was exceptional, and I was disappointed that there was only about a half-house crowd of people that had the sense to try out something a little different in the way of entertainment.
I half expected someone to yell out “DO FREEBIRD” midway through the show because we live in the midst of a population of people that primarily eat food that you can put catsup on—why should their music be any different?
Any whooooo, they had a reception afterward at a bookstore across the street from the theater and we had the opportunity to meet the artists, buy a CD, and get their autograph.
On other fronts, I’ve previously mentioned that I have to get a 16”x20” print made of one of my photographs to be shown in February and March in the Coastal Heritage Art Exhibit. I’ve been procrastinating on the final frame selection for my entrée, and I have to submit my biography by this week for inclusion in the Exhibit program.
Since this is my first ever art show, I’m having trouble making my bio longer than 20 words. Right now it looks something like this:
“Virgil has been alive since 1959 and likes to use his camera when he’s not sleeping…”
I hope I’ll be struck with some inspiration in the next few days. I hate honking my own horn, although I’m told that I do a mean braggadocio in the presence of lovely ladies after a few Jack Daniels.
Maybe that’s the solution…
Finally, this set I’m building for CAPE Theater's Dinner Show “You’re A Good Man Charley Brown has been kicking my ass for the past three weeks. I never knew how hard it could be to build a “cartoon” set for a cast of adult actors playing children in a play. EVERYTHING has to be scaled up to look bigger than life, yet it has to be light weight so that the actors can move it on and off stage between acts and during the performance.
No 4x4’s and ¾” plywood, I’m working with 2x4’s and foam sheets varying from ½” to 2” thick. I’ve got little foam “BB's” blowing everywhere in the space I’m building in.
I bet I have 30 hours in design time doing drawing and sketching ideas, the hardest part being making it look “cute”, not “cheesy”—those definitions being primarily in the eye of the beholder.
Schroeder’s baby grand piano and Snoopy’s dog house are by far the hardest set pieces I have yet to finish, having already completed the school bus, Lucy’s Psychiatric Booth, and Sunday’s project—the “Kite Eating Tree.”
I'm also reading a script now, trying to develop my own version of the character "Piney" in John Patrick's play "A Bad year For Tomatoes" that will open in early May at the CAPE theater.
My rendition, if they actually cast me in the part, will be a cross between Billy Bob Thornton's character in the movie "Slingblade" and "Andy Griffeth's" Ernest T. Bass--with a little of "Green Acres" Mr. Haney thrown in for good measure.
I haven't acted in a play in almost two years, having protrayed the character Hanibal in John Patrick's "A Curious Savage" in the Spring of 2004. (The picture of me here on the blog comes from that play.)
In that production I portrayed a self-committed mental patient that thought that he could play the violin--but he couldn't.
Talk about a part fitting like a glove...
It was my first acting experience since the sixth grade, but it got me hooked on working in the theater and I've designed and built six sets in the past 22 months.
Me...ACTING...go figure.
Regarding my writing other than blogs, my two book projects are lagging badly, primarily due to neglect. I have the Novel outlined, some character development work done, and the first chapter written, and I've been staring at it almost continuously for the past six months, wishing that it would write itself.
No such luck so far.
If it were easy, everyone would be on the NY Times bestseller list, you know?
My cookbook, "The Redneck Gourmet" is much further along, having had several positive responses from publishers, but it is up to me to get the final copy together and most importantly, GET SOME NICE PICTURES OF MY FOOD, because people apparently won't buy cookbooks without PICTURES OF FOOD included in them.
Really, you can write a recipe that includes tree bark, dirt, honey, and a little salt, and if you publish it beside a pretty picture of a nice fat tenderloin steak and some asaparagus--people will buy a copy of your book and toss it out on their coffee table.
I, personally, being a cook, don't buy "coffee table" cookbooks and I'm not trying to write one either. Although "folksy" and descriptive, I intend my book to be used as a guide for actual cooking, mainly for one or two couples, but my publisher tells me that I have to get pictures for the book to sell, so I am.
Fortunately we've met a number of people here on St. Simons and Sea Island that have fantastic kitchens. Kitchens that cost more than my first house did, and we're talking about me catering some intimate dinners in return for the opportunity to make photographs.
Most of these rooms are full of things like Vulcan Ranges and Subzero Refrigerators. Some of these ranges have gas burners with enought BTU's to lift a hot air balloon off the ground. I'm thinking that I'll do most of my cooking here in the condo and reserve the final assembly for my host's home because working in a strange kitchen can wreck havoc with the preparation of my otherwise familiar recipes.
I just hope that I can attain the quality and taste in front of an audience that is typical of these recipes that I've worked so hard developing and learning at home. Wish me luck.
That about wraps things up on the home front here, other than my usual committment to regular blogging, which, with any luck, will continue unabated through the young year.
I don’t know if it is the left side or the right side of my brain that I’m using right now, but it’s getting a surprisingly good workout after years of prior neglect.
Now where’s my warm beer and catsup bottle…
Sunday, January 22, 2006
A PLAN
Poolside Blogging
When the weather turns to almost 80 degrees before the end of January, I can't be expected to not want to start hanging out at the pool--it's less than half a football field away down the street. The only thing is that, while sitting at the pool, I currently don't have an internet connection.
As a result of this unacceptable deficiency, I’ve done a little research and found out that I CAN extend my wireless network from my master bedroom, all the way down the street to the swimming pool, so that I can wireless blog poolside this summer.
Imagine everyone’s excitement, raptly checking back here to this site dozens of times each day to read as I live blog the progress of a load of ribs being slow cooked on the Webber Kettle while the blender serves up frozen libations poolside.
I could receive comments telling me when to put on suntan lotion and I could upload and post digital photos if the owners of any good looking bathing suits happen to show up poolside. Actually, I think that I'll reserve that pain for my own eyes since the majority of our population here seems to be somewhere nearing the age of 100. We do get an occasional vacation renter during the summer that is a little easier on the eyes and camera lens.
Any wayyyy, it is possible--poolside blogging, that is...we DO have the technology to accomplish such a feat.
Here is all I need to do:
1. Drill a 2” hole in the roof of the building.
2. Evoke the wrath of the “Condo Nazis.”
3. Patch 2” hole in roof.
4. Buy one of these, a 2.4 GHz 14 dBi Backfire Wireless LAN antenna. I get sexually excited just thinking about owning one, and it only costs about $25
6. Then I load up my laptop, sunglasses, towels, suntan lotion, a nice fat vodka and cranberry, and flip flop my way down the street.
When the weather turns to almost 80 degrees before the end of January, I can't be expected to not want to start hanging out at the pool--it's less than half a football field away down the street. The only thing is that, while sitting at the pool, I currently don't have an internet connection.
As a result of this unacceptable deficiency, I’ve done a little research and found out that I CAN extend my wireless network from my master bedroom, all the way down the street to the swimming pool, so that I can wireless blog poolside this summer.
Imagine everyone’s excitement, raptly checking back here to this site dozens of times each day to read as I live blog the progress of a load of ribs being slow cooked on the Webber Kettle while the blender serves up frozen libations poolside.
I could receive comments telling me when to put on suntan lotion and I could upload and post digital photos if the owners of any good looking bathing suits happen to show up poolside. Actually, I think that I'll reserve that pain for my own eyes since the majority of our population here seems to be somewhere nearing the age of 100. We do get an occasional vacation renter during the summer that is a little easier on the eyes and camera lens.
Any wayyyy, it is possible--poolside blogging, that is...we DO have the technology to accomplish such a feat.
Here is all I need to do:
1. Drill a 2” hole in the roof of the building.
2. Evoke the wrath of the “Condo Nazis.”
3. Patch 2” hole in roof.
4. Buy one of these, a 2.4 GHz 14 dBi Backfire Wireless LAN antenna. I get sexually excited just thinking about owning one, and it only costs about $25
6. Then I load up my laptop, sunglasses, towels, suntan lotion, a nice fat vodka and cranberry, and flip flop my way down the street.
Oh, did I mention bringing the power supply for backup? Since Pat telecommutes, we can probably sublet the condo and just live in the pool house this summer...well maybe not.
This would be so cool, I'm going to do it...check back in about March to see my progress....
V I C T O R Y
I'm the King of WEP Encrypted Networks
Yes, I, your lovely political/cooking blogger and self proclaimed rocket scientist, now have a functioning three computer network operating on two floors of our condo building.
Amazingly enough, we have a pretty good signal strength at the peremeter, even though the wireless router is located 75' feet away on the opposite end of the unit from two of the PC's.
I personally, always have a good signal because I refuse to work where there isn't one, even if I have to lay in the floor or stand on my head with my feet resting against the wall.
I also figured out that the problem all along was that I had outsmarted myself when I did the original router installation. For some reason they actually expect all of those things which you tell your router to actually MEAN SOMETHING when you give your answers.
Being the sly devil that I am, I forgot that I had limited the number of users on the network to three (Pat's notebook PC #2 & #3, in and out of the docking station, and my notebook PC #1.)
When I tried to install my neighbor's desktop on the network, the router apparently got confused and tangled my IP address and MAC address up in the process of assigning the new machine one of each. It then refused to recognise either machine from then on because there were too many machines looking for the internet.
The good news is that in this process I learned that my security strategy works...
DAMN I'M GOOD.
But it took me a month and one half to figure out what to do to make my security allow me to use my own network...
DAMN I'M STUPID.
Of course I can blame the misplaced software CD as a mitigating circumstance.
Next, being the machocist that I am, I'm looking forward toscrewing up further expanding our little computer empire with the addition of a wireless print server to handle my big 13"x19"format HP printer and our little HP multifunction machine.
Then, if I get through that process, does anyone know of a way to shoot our wireless signal 50 yards down the street to the pool deck so I can blog poolside this summer?.
It was 79 degrees here today, and I don't want to have to make a choice between writing and my suntan...
Yes, I, your lovely political/cooking blogger and self proclaimed rocket scientist, now have a functioning three computer network operating on two floors of our condo building.
Amazingly enough, we have a pretty good signal strength at the peremeter, even though the wireless router is located 75' feet away on the opposite end of the unit from two of the PC's.
I personally, always have a good signal because I refuse to work where there isn't one, even if I have to lay in the floor or stand on my head with my feet resting against the wall.
I also figured out that the problem all along was that I had outsmarted myself when I did the original router installation. For some reason they actually expect all of those things which you tell your router to actually MEAN SOMETHING when you give your answers.
Being the sly devil that I am, I forgot that I had limited the number of users on the network to three (Pat's notebook PC #2 & #3, in and out of the docking station, and my notebook PC #1.)
When I tried to install my neighbor's desktop on the network, the router apparently got confused and tangled my IP address and MAC address up in the process of assigning the new machine one of each. It then refused to recognise either machine from then on because there were too many machines looking for the internet.
The good news is that in this process I learned that my security strategy works...
DAMN I'M GOOD.
But it took me a month and one half to figure out what to do to make my security allow me to use my own network...
DAMN I'M STUPID.
Of course I can blame the misplaced software CD as a mitigating circumstance.
Next, being the machocist that I am, I'm looking forward to
Then, if I get through that process, does anyone know of a way to shoot our wireless signal 50 yards down the street to the pool deck so I can blog poolside this summer?.
It was 79 degrees here today, and I don't want to have to make a choice between writing and my suntan...
