The Primary Source Of Global Warming

Avert Your Eyes If You're Scared...


As promised, here's the view from East Beach this morning about 6:46 AM:

Then, while wandering back up to the car on the boardwalk, I found this little wildflower (you really should try the macro setting on your camera some time):

Time for a little nap now...

Simple Pleasures

I Can Smell The Ocean From Here

I just walked outside for a few minutes to see what was going on in the world, and with the light wind blowing out of the northeast this morning I could actually smell the ocean.

I just love that about living here on our little island.

The Atlantic shoreline is a mile or so across the salt marsh and Sea Island from here at our home's location, but I swear that I can hear the waves crashing on nights when the surf is beat up with passing tropical storms in the summer.

Ever since I was a kid I've always been drawn to the ocean, and as an adult I've probably spent too much of my income traveling to and from and sitting on the beach.

I grew up about 100 miles north of Panama City Beach, Florida and enjoyed the Gulf Coast long before Girls Gone Wild all of America and the rest of the world discovered "The Redneck Riviera."

My parents bought a motor home back in 1972 and I was fortunate enought to enjoy staying weekends and weeks in the summer in campsites situated right in the dunes adjacent to the beach at Ft. Walton and Gulf Shores back before the thirty-story high rise condos destroyed the ambiance.

You haven't lived until you wake up in the morning and find the rising ocean tide lapping at your picnic table (and rear tires of the RV--thereby making your mother crazy.) Visits to the beach in the spring and fall always produced opportunities to wander solo (or with little sister in tow) over miles of deserted beaches picking up sea shells or flying kites and tossing model airplanes into the air.

Although Brunswick's adjacent shipping channel causes our grey sanded Atlantic beaches to be highly inferior to the sugar white sands of my youth in Florida, I am still highly comforted by the knowledge that within ten minutes of right now I could be standing with my toes in the surf, awaiting the sun to pop over the eastern horizion.

In fact, I feel an East Beach photo opportunity in the making--let me get my camera.

Look for the results to be posted about 7:30 AM this morning.

Mexicans Invading International Space Station

Border Violations Expanding...


I had to laugh out loud when I read the headline to THIS STORY:

LAWMAKERS VOTE TO LAUNCH MEXICAN "NASA"

MEXICO CITY (Reuters) - They may be light years away from fulfilling their dream, but Mexican lawmakers are preparing to launch a national space agency they hope could one day stand tall beside the United States NASA.

Mexico's lower house passed a law on Wednesday, which if approved by the upper chamber, would create a space agency to coordinate research and work with universities and the private sector to launch communication and weather satellites.

With an initial budget proposal of less than $2 million, the backers of the Mexican Space Agency say it would struggle to challenge its northern neighbor's National Aeronautics and Space Administration, or NASA, but hope it would draw Mexico into the international space community, bringing access to cutting-edge technology and research.

So there you have it...ladies and gentlemen...the yet to be finished International Space Station will soon have ammenities like maid service, well groomed lawns, and possibly a stone or Mexican tiled foyer, not to mention an occupancy rate of two or three thousand swarthy, wild eyed, Mexican flag waving "immigrants."

I wonder if the space toilets can handle the by-products of burritos and Guacamole?

Where will it all end? (Is there a Cuban "NASA" on the horizion?)

What The Hell Happened?

Can Anyone Tell Me?


As I’ve mentioned here on the blog many times before, I grew up in south Alabama in the 1960’s and 1970’s.

That’s right ladies and gentlemen, I’m proud to admit that I’m from LA (Lower Alabama).

In fact, I’m a self proclaimed Redneck from LA.

If you yell “Redneck” at me, I’m just liable to walk over and kiss you on the cheek. You just can’t insult me by calling me a Redneck, no matter what you also think about my Confederate Flag beach towel I have neatly hidden away in my closet.

Back in those “good ole days” the politics in Alabama was dominated by “Yellow Dog” Democrats like Governor George Wallace; his lovely wife and surrogate Governor Lurlene Wallace; and our local citizens in Ozark were represented in Washington DC by the trio of Sparkman, Allen, and Dickenson.

I didn’t even have to do a Google search to give you those names.

You see, I knew back then what I still know now—who my senators and representatives are—and I was quite happy when they saw fit to pass the 26th amendment lowering the voting age to 18.

(Let me offer you a challenge: For most of you out there, I bet over half of you and your friends and relatives can’t name their state and national representatives.)

But a lot has changed since then, and I’m not quite sure if that was such a good idea (giving 18 year olds the right to vote) however, because the first thing I would have done was run out and vote for Jimmy Carter for president in 1976.

After all, I had grown up a Democrat.

Jimmy Carter was the Democratic Presidential Candidate.

And then like now, consensus is that if you grew up a Democrat, all one need do is switch off one’s brain, extend one’s index finger, walk into the voting “booth”, and punch the button with the “D” on it, regardless of the name in front of the “D”.

How easy is that?

Republican elections work basically the same way.

Ever try to vote as an independent in a State Primary election? It can’t be done in Georgia—its “D” or “R” else nothing in my experience

My current problem is that I’m having trouble distinguishing between the Democratic and Republican parties—no matter what the current media hysteria tells me.

And no matter how stupid the antics of the “officials” we have elected might appear to be, I’m having a problem sticking with them through thick and thin.

What I want to know is: Since when did Politics become a team sport?

I’ll cheer for Georgia Tech football or basketball no matter how many coaches they go through in ten years or how bad Auburn beats them, but I find it a little less palatable to stand behind about 75% of the MORONS we have sitting in our state house in Atlanta and in Washington DC because the STUPID SPINELESS BITCHES & BASTARDS are too damn worried about appearances and getting re-elected to actually get anything done that would remotely involve my personal interest.

By the way, “my personal interest” doesn’t involve anyone coming to your house, taking your money or your property, and giving any of it to me or my family.

So any way, back to my original point, after voting for Reagan in my first presidential election in 1980, I’ve pushed the “R” button ever since. I even avoided wasting my vote pushing the Bush beating imbecile Perot button in ’92, but I’m still not sure that I’m getting my money’s worth.

I still say that if we could get the congressional seats down to a two term limit with a maximum of three terms lifetime, and toss everyone in jail that donates over $50 to a political candidate, the US would be a different place almost overnight.

After all, how can anyone keep a straight face and explain to me how someone would spend $20 million on an election to get a job that pays less than $200 thousand per year if everything is actually on the up and up?

Yeah…I thought so…

You Can't...

How To Say It Any Better?

I Can't Possibly...

A friend sent me the following dissertation via E-mail yesterday.

You might have already seen it, but I'm taking the liberty of posting it here this morning, in it's entirety, with attribution to it's author, Bob Lonsberry Lonsberry.com


RECONQUISTA SHOWS ITS MIGHT

A half a million illegals and their supporters in one demonstration on the streets of Los Angeles.

A half a million.

From just Los Angeles.

That's roughly as big as any public protest or civil rights march in the history of the United States. And this was just people from Los Angeles.

That's how bad it's gotten. How frayed America has become and how the equilibrium of social and cultural identity has tipped irrevocably in some areas. Some areas aren't really in the United States anymore, and southern California is one of them.

The protest proved that.

Ten thousand in Milwaukee. Twenty thousand in Phoenix. Fifty thousand in Denver. Other tens of thousands all across the country.

Doing two things, primarily: Waving Mexican flags and claiming to have built America and to be the reason for its success.

It was an angry, entitlement reaction all across the country. They called this their land and said they wanted their rights and their freedom and their money and their respect.

A bunch of illegals.

An invading army of people who have flooded our borders and insinuated themselves into our society and economy. An army of people who drain America's prosperity through their disproportionate use of government services and their wholesale export of American currency.

They are the bird flu of demographic change.

They are the end of American sovereignty as we know it. Since the Manchus breached the Great Wall and the Vandals sacked Rome there has not been such an example of a mighty people being pillaged by a weaker neighbor.

The Reconquista is almost complete.

And with the house ablaze, the Senate will debate the installation of smoke detectors

After years of ignoring the gathering storm, the Washington politicians have decided to exploit our national cancer in an effort to seduce our votes and contributions. It is not likely they will do anything substantive or useful, but they will fan the flames of division and chaos in order to exploit their bases.

While ignoring the fact that both parties have been treasonously impotent on this issue.

The Republicans let illegal immigration roll forward unrestrained because it helped their friends who have tainted capitalism with their immoral greed. The Democrats let illegal immigration roll forward unrestrained because they believed they could claim ownership to the Latino vote as they have the black vote.

And the American mainstream was ignored by both parties. Duped by both parties. The interests of America were dismissed in order to serve the interests of the parties.

And now a half a million clog the streets of Los Angeles.

People who largely had no right to be here. People who any other nation on earth would unflinchingly deport.

People whose words betray a strong antipathy for the United States People who said over and over that the United States would be nothing without them. People who have not gratitude for this nation, but resentment.

Our guests have become our conquerors.

And the government's response won't be about the nation, it will be about the midterm elections.

Those half a million people sent a message.

That we will still celebrate the Fourth of July, but that we'll do it on the Cinco de Mayo.

The lion's share of Americans want secure borders, enforced immigration laws and America for Americans.

And the Senate is going to tell the lion's share of Americans to screw off. Just like the president has done.

In our Republic - in our representative democracy - the government is about to ignore those who can vote in favor of those who cannot. The value of citizenship has evaporated as we ignore those who have it and acquiesce to those who don't.

That's just the way it is.

And the politicians lack the spine or the integrity to change it.

The Mexican national anthem declares that "heaven gave you a soldier in each son." And so it is that an army of Mexican sons and daughters has come to occupy America.

And they don't intend to leave.

And we lack the stones to make them.

And thereon turns the fate of our nation.

Distractions

Can't Live With Them...Can't Live Without Them...


Normally I write a couple of thousand words each night, and many of them end up here on the blog for public consumption.

Not so last night, however, because I'm distracted by a number of people and things that are both consuming my words and otherwise requiring my attentions.

One of my current endeavors has been creating invitations for a Cinco de Mayo Party which I'm cooking for here on the Island next month. Here is the image I produced for the front cover of the card:



The guest list is up over thirty now; I have my tamale, soft taco, and most of my salsa recipes down to a science; and I can only pray that the Avacado's available in the stores ripen in the next week and one half.

I'm actually quite nervous because I've never before cooked dinner for this many people at once.

Anyone so inclined is welcome to start praying for my success...

Stupidity Is Contageous

Is It Just Me?


Gosh Darn it, but I've had it up to here (pointing to the top of my ever balding head) with the media and the politicians' furior over GAS PRICES...now they've got President Bush sounding like a liberal Democrat.

OK People...Let me say this again:

In spite of my Suburban holding 42 gallons, and in spite of it costing nearly $120 to fill it up today, and in spite of it only getting 10 MPG...

I STILL SAY THAT THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS PRICE GOUGHING.

After all there are still bicycles, roller skates, horses, ox carts, goats, and dog sled teams to get you around--not to mention something called WALKING that could help solve the so called "OBESITY CRISIS" that they love to mention on the news programs 20-20 and 60 minutes.

Life's a bitch, then you die...remember that?

Here's What You Missed

Sunrise & Moonrise on the Marsh


Being the camera nerd that I am, I spend a good deal of time worrying about when the sun and moon rise and set--particularly when they happen at nearly the same times of day.

Yesterday morning we had a triple treat when the Moon and the Planet Venus rose together about an hour before the Sun. Here's what I saw about 6:15 AM yesterday, looking from St. Simons across the marsh to Sea Island:

And then a little later:



And finally the sun showed up:

So what would you do if I wasn't hanging around with a camera, getting eaten up by "no see ums" and mosquitoes in my PJ's?

Downsizing

Hurry, Hurry, Step Right Up...



They say that you come into this world naked, and that you basically go out of it the same way.

Our friend Bucky (Dartmouth Class of 1942) is getting a good lesson in this axiom.

You see, Bucky is flying away from our little island this morning, off to the New England of his birth, moving into an “assisted living” facility in the great state of Connecticut.

We’re gonna miss our friend, but we also know that he’s going to be much better off living in a place where he’s very near his family, surrounded by dozens of his peers in a situation where he doesn’t have to worry about not being able to drive himself to the grocery store and take care of the kitchen and laundry.

I sometimes wish that I should be so lucky…

Any way, Bucky has had to sit by for the past day and one half while his family packed up the things he’ll need in his new environment, while at the same time selling or giving away all the things he no longer needs or has room for in his new home.

Actually, he’s gone through the proceedings quite well.

Condo…sold.

Camry…sold.

Kitchen utensils…my kitchen.

Contents of the bar…my bloodstream.

Deluxe Framed Nautical Chart of the local waters…My wall

Microwave & Sofa…Ozzy—the “yard guy”

All this after already doing a “downsizing” ten years ago after his beloved wife died of cancer and he “relocated” from his house on the golf course to the small cluster of rooms located below our own condo.

Bucky and I have more in common than one might at first realize. We’ve both watched a lifetime of accumulated stuff dwindle away to a few familiar items—my own experience occurring in a matter of hours in a house fire, and Bucky’s playing out toward the end of 39 more years than I’ve managed to live through here on this lovely planet.

I can’t say which method is easier, or even which method I would prefer. I guess I'd say that it's a tossup.

Bucky’s seen the loss of many more friends and family members through his 85 years than I have in my 46, but I also believe that we share a common realization of the limited value of worldly possessions and the infinite value of life’s experiences and personal relationships that never ever can be taken away from us—no matter what life ends up throwing at us in the end.

We have to say goodbye to Bucky at 8:45 AM this morning, after only two short years of friendship, and the hardest thing for us is the realization that, due to his advanced age, we might not see him alive again, BUT…

Pat and I have also come to understand that there is a very good possibility that the reason that we were first drawn to live here on St. Simons Island, in this specific condo, was because of the enrichment of our lives shared with Mr. Strader (Dartmouth class of 1942) over these past few months.

That’s something that you can never put a price tag on.

Thank you so much, Bucky…and good luck to you in your excellent new adventure.

(And look out all you Connecticut women)

(This posting was supposed to be published at 4:30 AM this morning, but apparently Blogger was doing work on the site and I just now managed to force things through the free pipeline they supply...)

Up A Creek?

Have I Got A Deal For You...





This photo was shamelessly stolen from this lady. (Don't tell Acidman)

Carpenters Gone Wild

Waking Up With Wood?


I’ve been struggling finding something worth writing about—besides bitching about the NY Times or Republican impotence or any other of my well worn usual topics. I have a couple of political screeds started half finished, but for some reason I just don’t feel like being serious at the moment.

After doing a little extra web surfing, I found that my old friends over at Orlando’s Local6 Website could provide us with some comic relief this morning.

Two unrelated news stories caught my attention, and it turns out that they have a common theme—construction workers.

First, there is this story about a guy who makes “plumbers crack” look like an insignificant problem:

OAKLAND, CA—A carpenter who keeps his clothes clean by working in the nude was arrested after a client returned home early and found him building bookcases in the buff.

Percy Honniball, 50, was charged with misdemeanor indecent exposure this week for the October incident.

He told officers he stripped before crawling under the client's house to do electrical work because he didn't want to soil his clothes, police said.

Funny thing, but I usually want to put on EXTRA clothes when I am forced to crawl around under a house…spiders and snakes and all that being a bit off putting, in my experience.

Next we have this guy that gives an entirely new meaning to the phrase “needing to have your head examined”:

PORTLAND, OREGON—An Oregon man who went to a hospital complaining of a headache was found to have 12 nails embedded in his skull from a suicide attempt with a nail gun, doctors say.

Surgeons removed the nails with needle-nosed pliers and a drill, and the man survived with no serious lasting effects, according to a report on the medical oddity in the current issue of the Journal of Neurosurgery.

The unidentified 33-year-old man was suicidal and high on methamphetamine last year when he fired the nails -- up to 2 inches in length -- into his head one by one.

Here's a copy of one of the X-rays for those of you too lazy to follow the link...



I'm sure his Mama would be quite proud of his efforts...