Dammit Gretta, Get Over It…

FOX News Succumbs To Eternal Reruns


I’ve already commented on this topic a couple of times, yet while I sit here watching two pounds of Boston Baked Beans and a giant chunk of pork shoulder simmer in my ovens I feel compelled to reiterate my earlier comments.

FOX’s Gretta Van Sustren’s topic this evening is YET AGAIN a worn out lost cause:

A. Natalee Holloway.

B. Aruba.

I believe that a better way to put things is this way.

A. Stupid little silly spoiled bitch without a clue.

B. Doting mindless divorced parents.

C. Third world country.

No matter how you try to explain the situation, I say that when you combine A+B or A+B+C you come up with a formula for disaster.

They can argue and endlessly complain about the Aruban police’s ineptitude and the potential guilt of the Van der Sloote punk and his two Kalpoe brother side kicks, but the real engineers of Natalee’s death were her mother and stepfather, the “Twitties”, who allowed her to travel to Aruba and flash her ignorant little eighteen year old tittles around an island full of sexual predators and drug dealers.

Hanging out on spring break in Panama City or Ft. Lauderdale is light years away in terms of safety when compared to most Caribbean Islands and the Mexican Riveria.

Little hundred pound teenaged girls found stumbling around drunk in the wee hours of the morning are equally at risk in Birmingham, Alabama; Atlanta, Georgia; or Cancun or Cozmel Mexico.

So sorry Mrs. Twitty, but YOU killed your daughter when you put her on the airliner in the first place. I sincerely hope you can find some peace one day, but if I were you I'm afraid that I'd never be able to look at my reflection in a mirror ever again.

I hope parents everywhere are paying attention.

Here's What You're Missing

It's Getting A Little Strange Out Here...


OK, I just got back from my little photo shoot, and I encountered a couple of unexpected surprises in the process.

Here's the sunrise that you missed while you were sleeping in this morning:



I managed to disturb this guy while I was hanging around on the edge of the marsh waiting for 6:24 AM to arrive:



Then I caught this bird and plan on serving it at my barbeque tomorrow afternoon:



Anyone have a good recipe for Flamingo?

Maybe a sauce and some pasta...

Anything???

Help Me...Please...

Drive-By, Pool-Side Barbeque

Don’t You Wish That You Were At My Place This Weekend?


A couple of years ago I came up with the idea of staging an impromptu pool side barbeque. The process involved going out to the neighborhood pool, setting up my Webber Kettle grill, powering up the blender, and stepping back to see what happened.

When it was all over with I had cooked several racks of baby back ribs, a Pineapple, various salads and slaw, and I think that I went home hungry because I ended up giving away all but two or three of the individual ribs when the dust settled. We also killed a bottle of Tequila and a fifth of Rum making Margaritas and Pina Coladas.

We attained success by my standards, particularly since we had no standards when we started our little adventure. The key for me was the word impromptu—a low stress, low effort event that both the hosts and the attendees could enjoy without breaking a sweat.

Last year we got rained out on Memorial Day Weekend, but with any luck we’ll do our Second annual Drive-By, Pool-Side Barbeque again on Saturday.

I’ve actually broken my own rules by leaking the word out that a barbeque will be happening starting about 3 PM on Saturday. As a result, we are getting some help in the form of side dishes, deserts, and other contributions and I just hope that the weather holds out.

This year’s menu includes barbequed, pulled pork shoulder roast and chicken breasts. Those pig and chicken pieces are already swimming in a nice brine mixture as we speak. These dishes will feature my home made Kansas City Style Barbeque Sauce. No store bought bottled stuff for my guests.

And of course there’ll be hamburgers and hot dogs in the mix for the unimaginative or really hungry attendees

We’ll also be making Hawaiian Cold Slaw and Fancy Asian Cold Slaw, and the Boston Baked Beans are also currently simmering on the stovetop with some pork neck bones in early preparations.

I just finished two dozen hard boiled eggs that are lounging in iced water in the fridge and will be further processed today as “deviled eggs.” I’ll have to warn my guests to watch out for the ones with the Jalapeno peppers in there replacing the pickle relish.

Now I have to go because I have a date with a lovely island sunrise, and my camera and tripod won't take themselves out to the marsh unless I drive them or walk them over.

Throw All Of The Bastards Bums Out

Where's My Really Big Pointy Stick


OK, I’ve had it right up to here (pointing to the top of my ever graying, ever balding head.)

Have you been following the soap opera surrounding Louisiana Democratic Representative William Jefferson?

You know, the US Congressman from New Orleans that tied up two 5 ton National Guard trucks and a helicopter back in September under the guise of checking on his “constituents.”

You know, the US Congressman that ended up needing two 5 ton National Guard trucks and a helicopter to go to his own house in New Orleans to ”retrieve important documents, records, and personal items.”

You know, the US Congressman that had a 5 ton National Guard truck drive up into his front yard so he wouldn’t get his thousand dollar Italian shoes wet going into his house to “retrieve important documents, records, and personal items.”

You know, the US Congressman that, when the 5 ton National Guard truck got stuck in his front yard after waiting for him for over an HOUR while he gathered his "important documents, records, and personal items," then he refused to ride the lifeline to the helicopter that had been diverted to his rescue.

You know, the pansy assed US Congressman that refused to board the helicopter that was diverted from rescuing stranded citizens from the floodwaters, even after a rescue diver risked his own life by jumping from the helicopter not once but TWICE to give him assistance.

You know, the pansy assed, chicken shit US Congressman that was already responsible for diverting a five ton National Guard truck and a helicopter from rescue operations, and required yet ANOTHER five ton National Guard truck to remove his lily livered, pansy assed, chicken shit, elitist black ass and his possessions from his front yard while citizens were still stranded on roofs and in trees by Katrina’s floodwaters.

Yes…THAT William Jefferson, US Representative, Democrat from New Orleans.

Now I hear that they have video tape of the honorable William Jefferson taking a hundred grand as a bribe for some African Telecommunications scheme, and that they found ninety grand of it wrapped in zip lock baggies and tin foil in his freezer.

And the topper is that after waiting for eight months for him to supply "important doucments, records, and personal items" to the FBI relating to the aforementioned bribery scandal, the FBI obtained and executed a search warrant on the Congressional office of William Jefferson, Democrat from New Orleans, and now the other pompus shitheads other elitist assholes elected officials in Washington DC have gotten their thongs in a bunch over the apparent violation of their sanctuaries.

So now I have to watch Dennis Hastert and Nancy Pelosi, sitting on opposite sides if not astride of the isle in the US Congress, jump into the fray and show themselves to be the moronic elitists that they are.

If any of you out there can possibly believe that any more than a couple hundred of the 535 elected shitheads Senators and Representatives in Washington DC have anything close to your interests in mind for five minutes after they are sworn into office…

I have some ocean front property in Nevada I’d like you to look at…because it’s for sale…

CHEEP.

I Could Be An American Idol?

A White Boy From Alabama Wins!


Just in case you’re wondering, let me let you know that I DON’T WATCH AMERICAN IDOL.

Well…OK…I did manage to trip over and watch a couple of the early shows this season featuring the idiots that can’t carry a tune in a bucket embarrassing four generations of their family and the show with that stupid guy that sang like Cher and then cried when he was unceremoniously asked to exit the building.

Any way…

I was sitting here doing my morning perusal of the news on the internet and editing some photos when FOX News came on and said that the “salt and pepper” headed white boy soul singer from Alabama won this season’s American Idol.

WTF?

I though that you had to be black or have dreadlocks or flash your giant fake tits and otherwise be totally superficial and fake in personality and demeanor to even compete into the late rounds of American Idol.

Are Americans coming to their senses and actually rewarding TALENT for singing rather than supporting people like the no-talent dysfunctional psychopathic sycophants that have people paying for dialing 1-900 phone numbers to vote for their favorites in the past?

Let me get this straight…

An almost middle aged (29 year old) white boy from ALABAMA won American Idol?

A guy named Taylor Hicks won American Idol?

And he had grey (OK…salt and pepper) hair…but was basically normal looking, with natural hair none the less?

Not only did this guy have the family name “Taylor” that is shared with my mother’s family (I have a cousin and an uncle named Taylor in addition to my mother’s mother’s family name being “Taylor’s”) but his last name is “Hicks”—a term that most everybody in New York and Massachusetts uses to describe almost everybody from Alabama.

Well, since I didn’t watch the shows or vote on the outcome, I can’t take any credit for the results, but I can say that it is interesting that someone like Taylor Hicks has managed to perform his way through the gauntlet of bullshit that previously has sidelined anyone that remotely resembles myself and my peers residing here in our middle age in the southern United States of America.

Maybe there is some hope for this country after all…

History—From A Hysterical Historical Perspective

Even More Random Thoughts And Cogitations


One thing that I’ve learned over the past 46 years residing here on this lovely planet is this fact:

I DON’T KNOW SHIT FROM SHINEOLA WHEN IT COMES TO SUBSTANTIAL PORTIONS OF HISTORY—US HISTORY OR OTHERWISE.

Another thing that I’ve come to realize is that many if not most people around me know even less than I do.

A major problem, as I see it, is that our schools aren’t teaching history any more.

History curriculums are all tangled up in the political agendas of the liberal textbook publishers and the political correctness crowds, and what little factual history that actually manages to leak through the process and gets taught in a few classrooms falls on the ignorant, deaf ears of children that could care less about the lessons to be learned from studying the few successes and many failures of our ancestors.

I know that I couldn’t have cared less about history lessons when I was in school back in the 1960’s and 1970’s, but I did manage to absorb enough names and dates to supply me with a foundation to learn a good deal more about the events that preceded my appearance on the planet in 1959.

With rare exceptions, it seems that your history genes only kick in after you’ve lived through two or three decades of your own personal history and start realizing that a broad knowledge of world history might represent a good form of an “owner’s manual” for living life in general.

I wish that I could go back and take all of my classes over again, because I might come away with an appreciation of the efforts and tribulations of our predecessors that could have saved me a good deal of time and effort expended because of my ignorance to date.

The other thing that I’m learning to appreciate is the oral history provided by older people that I come in contact with.

Everything from family stories recited by my recently departed 93 year old grandmother to stories of growing up on Long Island, NY in the 1920’s and 1930’s told by my 85 year old friend Harlan “Bucky” Strader (Dartmouth Class of 1942) have slipped right past me in my day to day life and I can’t remember 1% of what I was told.

I wish that I could keep a tape recorder in my pocket and pull it out and thrust the microphone toward some of the characters that I’ve known in the past and/or still run into today.

My Uncle John—the WWII B-25 tail gunner—and “Old Man Schwaller” that lives down the street and grew up in Chicago in the 1920’s come to mind at first, but on second thought our little island is a haven for literally hundreds if not thousands of ancient individuals with amazing historical insights to relate, if someone would just listen.

Our neighborhood lost another beloved resident, 89 year old Laura, to heart failure last weekend. Although I hardly knew her, I did know that Laura was from a well-to-do local family and grew up riding a steam ship ferry from Sea Island to the mainland to attend grade school in the 1920’s and early 1930’s before the causeway connected the islands to the mainland.

She told stories of playing Golf in the UK at St. Andrews and riding horses instead of driving a car around the island and seeing the Georgia coastal islands go from the playground of industrial magnates like Morgan, Coffin, Vanderbilt, and Rockefeller to becoming the home of thousands of slightly above average Americans (all legends in our own minds) that it is today.

Ironically, I’ve set here this morning with the History Channel droning on in the background with their program addressing the potential disaster that a hurricane striking NY City would cause.

It seems to me that since Hurricane Katrina hit New Orleans that the media and much of general public are continuously in a state of hysterical disarray about the potential of additional “killer hurricanes” coming grinding on shore this summer to kill women, children, and minorities is disproportionate numbers.

Excuse me while I take this opportunity to YAWN in a quite disinterested manner.

You see, using my own intimate knowledge of history, this middle aged southern Redneck has lived to be on a first name basis with a number of category two and three hurricanes in the past and all I have to say is…

“Told you so…”

What I want to know is, why is everybody freaking out?

Just like the History Channel program pointed out, “killer storms” have hit places like NY City before in the past, and ignorantly building structures and placing your coffee table, wife, children, and dog (not to mention your photo album and family heirlooms) within miles if not yards of flood plains and coast lines is just inviting disaster.

The question isn’t IF, it’s WHEN you’ll appear on CNN and FOX News.

That said, I will admit we live within about a mile and one half of the Atlantic Ocean, and in addition the salt marsh is about 100 yards away from our front door. According to the media, I should tilt my head back, throw my arms into the air, and run screaming to the nearest FEMA official to complain about my plight in life.

But I won’t, because I’ve lived within a couple hundred miles of the Gulf of Mexico and the Atlantic my entire life (much of the time within 100 miles or less) and hurricanes are just part of life—not a news event or a government relief program in the making to me.

Gosh darn it people, anyone with any sense should realize that it’s just a matter of time until we get nailed here on St. Simons Island, and the fact that Miami missed Hurricane Andrew by 50 miles and Charleston, SC missed Hugo by 30 miles just makes the probability of a major strike imminent in the next ten or so years a no-brainer.

Get ready, because if the Bird Flue and the sharks and the alligators don’t get you, the next “monster storm” probably will.

Regardless of what form my ultimate demise takes, I’m going out kicking and screaming.

I just want to die of or for something other than cancer or old age...how about you?

Ramifications & Repercussions

Circumstantial Evidence


Well ladies and gentlemen, it’s now official.

I now hold the title of “Neighborhood Pool Nazi.”

This being the beginning of our third summer spending 90% of my time lounging like a turtle poolside, I’m living, breathing proof that some people aspire to greatness, while others have it thrust upon them sit around and are smacked in the head with it while they’re taking a nap.

It’s a title that I’ve not really worked very hard at obtaining, but I did pass up the positions of “old neighborhood bastard” and various and sundry subordinate positions of “second lieutenant curmudgeon of this or that” because they were already substantially occupied by other long term residents of our condo complex.

The position (“neighborhood pool Nazi”) doesn’t actually pay anything in financial remuneration, but it does have its benefits, and it’s basically the only “unofficial” official title that can be had if you’re under the age of one hundred fifty.

I’ve learned from past experience that basically no one pays any attention to the swimming pool out here except for me, and as a result a bunch of stupid things have happened in the past that could have been prevented if someone…anyone…would spend twenty minutes once a month just walking past the pool area and making a couple of phone calls.

For instance, last year the pool service contractor did their usual crappy job (because no one was paying any attention) and the pool water turned green from an algae bloom and the pool was closed over the FOURTH OF JULY WEEKEND.

What total stupid crap—of all times to make sure the pool is in good shape, one would expect that the holiday weekends would be a priority, but nnnoooooooooooo—that would require organization and make sense.

The year before last the county inspector came in and had an absolute shit fit conniption fit poolside because of a half dozen violations that the stupid asshole property manager, Mr. Steve Kendall, said that he didn’t have time to worry about.

(I am making an exception to my standard privacy policy in naming Mr. Kendall in this posting since he has directly insulted me several times without provocation and he is a textbook example of an incompetent, unprofessional, useless asshole when it comes to performing real estate property management. I feel that I’m performing a public service by mentioning his qualifications, or the lack thereof.)

It has taken me twenty seven months conducting a constant drumbeat of rhetoric and commentary directed at the board of directors and the new property management company to get the pool brought up to the functional and safety standards expected of a community swimming pool that also in theory serves the public.

One emergency telephone, one life ring, a fence repair and paint job, 48 sets of keys to the pool house restrooms, a few lounge chairs here or there, and we almost have a first class operation on our hands.

The total cost, not including my time and efforts, was $1.99 less than $3,000.

Hurray for me…

I basically been cruising along on autopilot, until today when I sat quietly poolside and watched our pool service guy spend a good fifteen minutes vacuuming the pool, dumping a few handfuls of chemicals into the water, and then get in his truck and drive away WITHOUT TESTING THE POOL WATER CHEMISTRY.

WTF?

You have to understand that “community swimming pools” are required by law to have the pool water chemistry tested EVERY DAY, but we settle for testing twice each week because thus far it has been impractical and expensive to have it done daily. (I’ve also offered to test the water myself if they would supply me with the test materials.)

I’m making a phone call tomorrow morning and arranging to have a little prayer meeting with the owner/manager of the pool service company. If I don’t get the quality of the pool service improved and we spend another holiday weekend with a green swimming pool, I guarantee you that I’ll relegate his company to the same status like “former” property manager Kendall’s operation.

The other thing I intend to do is kick a few asses when it comes to the behavior of some of our residents' and guests' children. For some reason that is beyond my understanding, the current pool rules state that “children under the age of 10 YEARS must have adult supervision.”

WTF?

I’m extremely tired of watching other people’s little bastards little darlins while they hide in their condos--peeking out of the curtains to make sure that a drowning isn't in progress else sitting dozens of yards away from their prodigy with their nose buried in a book.

Late yesterday afternoon I was walking back over across the parking lot to the pool with Pat and from a distance I heard children’s blusterous voices and I observed what I thought was a plastic deck chair flying through the air into the pool.

Then from a distance of about twenty yards I saw a plastic table land in the pool. I announced my presence while still hidden behind the pool house with a shout of “THAT IS UNACCEPTABLE BEHAVIOR!”

As I turned the corner at the fence gate I saw the stupid little fat assed 13 year old bastard Jake lovely young Master Jake (Sally’s son) emerging from the pool with a table in his hands. (As a matter of undeserved respect, I’m omitting last names here.)

Having already crossed swords with me many times in the past, I wasn’t surprised that stupid little fat assed 13 year old bastard Jake young Master Jake then re-entered the pool and extracted yet another table (not a chair as I had first thought) and then proceeded to collect his towel and belongings and he exited the pool deck without uttering a single solitary word.

Jake’s stupid bitch clueless mother lovely mother Sally, who had witnessed the goings on from the living room of her adjacent condo, then pulled the curtains.

Jake’s stupid bitch clueless mother lovely mother Sally had already accosted me and complained a couple of summers ago for my public commentary about stupid fat assed bastard Jake young Master Jake’s propensity to throw anything that was not tied down into the pool.

Jake’s stupid bitch clueless mother lovely mother Sally averred that it was just an unfortunate coincidence that things always ended up in the pool after stupid little fat assed bastard Jake her offspring visited our complex. Apparently gravity increased it’s affect on items on the pool deck and they just jumped or were otherwise drawn into the pool waters on their own.

Jake’s summer is going to be long and quite miserable if I have anything to say about it.

After all, a “Neighborhood Pool Nazi’s” job is never done.

Silence

Self Imposed…


Being the single minded fool that I am, I’ve spent most of my creative energy for the past four days doing only two things, and both of them involve color.

The first endeavor has involved soaking in about 20 hours of sunshine laying beside our swimming pool—enjoying the marvelous sun filled days and low humidity which we’ve had since this past Thursday. One of our neighbors commented that based on my tanned skin color they were beginning to doubt my race and country of origin.

The second project is my continuing efforts to produce extemporaneous pen and ink drawings and water color paintings while sitting outside—again in this case poolside.

I’m sure that all of the palm trees are quite flattered by the attention I’ve given them in painting their portraits this weekend. In addition, one lonely Magnolia blossom gave its life wilting in the sunshine as my subject on Sunday.

As to my writing (or the lack thereof) here on the blog, I’m fed up with being fed up. I just don’t have the desire or energy to bitch about the stupidity of our elected officials on both sides of the isle in Congress.

While I would never endorse violence over voting in establishing our representatives in government, I think that I can almost understand where John Wilkes Booth and John Hinkley were coming from when they committed the acts that inscribed their names to history.

The only problem today, besides breaking the law, would involve having to target practically every moron in Washington DC if you were actually going to make any meaningful difference in the governance of our lives.

I’m telling you people, until, and only until we enact TERM LIMITS and pass true campaign finance reform eliminating both “hard money” and “soft money”, we as productive individuals are going to be relegated to the back seats and sidelines as the politicians pander to the “poor” and “minorities” and “corporate interests.”

Right and wrong are secondary issues and I find that to be quite depressing

It seems to me that half the population is deluded, and the other half is just plain stupid.

Which half are you in?