Or Is it "Better Late Than Never?"
This week the President of Duke University made a half-assed attempt at apologizing for his personal and the administration's behavior toward the wrongly accused Lacrosse Players.
What I want to know is, where is Al Sharpton and the Rev. Jackson and all of the other race warlords that jumped on this bandwagon and in front of TV cameras back before they put the prosecutor, Ray Nifong in jail and took away his law license?
Oh, that's right, they're all busy protesting down in Jena, Louisiana defending another group of thugs that are in the process of being prosecuted and convicted of assault and other charges.
Their justification?
The kids were "provoked", and it was just a "schoolyard fight" (six against one), so they shouldn't be charged...
Just a suspension, or maybe a good spanking?
Riggggghhhhhhhtttttt.....
Sunday, September 30, 2007
Friday, September 28, 2007
Oh...The Humanity...
More Inane Political Correctness
OK folks, first there was the Swastika in the cornfield up in New Jersey that no one could see except from the air:
Does somebody want to call the government and try to stop me from broadcasting the fumes from my rectum to the general public's sensitive spectrum later this morning?
Then I guess that you won't mind me publishing this formerly non-racist image that has been stolen by morons wearing bed linens on their bodies, skin-heads, and other pseudo-Nazi idiots from the polite citizens of the rural South.
(And by the way, no, I don't believe that the south will rise again...it already has, because almost everyone north of Pennsylvania wants to move down here to retire when they finally get tired of the urban filth, traffic congestion, and ugly winter weather found north of the Mason-Dixon Line.)
.
OK folks, first there was the Swastika in the cornfield up in New Jersey that no one could see except from the air:
I resisted commenting about this story for the past few days, but now there is this story about the nearly forty year old Navy Barracks in San Diego that will be rebuilt at taxpayer expense to avoid offending a few people's so-called "sensibilities" because they can see it on Google Earth and other satellite mapping programs:
By the way, I have a money saving suggestion if anyone is willing to listen.
I suggest that they add some canvas awnings and repaint the roof and make the building look like the Mexican Flag:
Pretty slick Idea, huh?
What a nice and pretty red, white, and green.
Much better than the white male dominated, racist, bigoted, mean old red white and blue colors that got the USA through the miserable, impoverished past 231 years of no healthcare and other social injustices.
In an effort to follow my own suggestions, I ate a bunch of beans and rice along with my Tilapia for dinner last night, and using previously untapped supernatural powers I am forcing my colon to continously beam out an image of the Confederate Flag...in wavelenghts that can only be seen in the ultraviolet and infrared spectrum, by people looking down in geosynchronous orbit.
Here's a preview...(don't look if you're easily offended):
Does somebody want to call the government and try to stop me from broadcasting the fumes from my rectum to the general public's sensitive spectrum later this morning?
Then I guess that you won't mind me publishing this formerly non-racist image that has been stolen by morons wearing bed linens on their bodies, skin-heads, and other pseudo-Nazi idiots from the polite citizens of the rural South.
(And by the way, no, I don't believe that the south will rise again...it already has, because almost everyone north of Pennsylvania wants to move down here to retire when they finally get tired of the urban filth, traffic congestion, and ugly winter weather found north of the Mason-Dixon Line.)
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Back On The Jobsite
Me And My Tools Are A Bit Rusty...
Hey Y'all...I have good news.
After almost two months of procrastination and mental diversion, I'm heading back over to "THE JOBSITE" in Brunswick this morning.
I've only spent a couple of days working there since late July, and since my patience and wallet is wearing thin with the delay and misuse of my meager capital investments, I guess that I should stand up and get back to work now so I can sell the place and afford to buy Christmas presents from Big Lots for my Mother and Sister.
If I had my own TV show, instead of "Flip This House," the producers would call my program "Tip This House" or possibly something else original like "The Sit around on your ass while your house falls apart Show."
Regardless, I suspect that both of my adoring viewers would be happy that I'm back on the air (or at least here on the Internet) shortly.
This next trip will be dedicated to fooling around making a list and trying to figure out what else needs to be done for completion, while my right hand man James curses and bitches sitting on top of a step ladder finishing the demolition back in the master bedroom and master bath.
I hope to install a pipe plug and re-rout the plumbing to offset the loss back in early August of less than a dozen feet of copper pipe connecting my hot water heater with the plumbing system.
The Brunswick Police Department has thus far yet to lift an eyebrow when I call them, so I guess that I'll have to resort to mounting machine guns on the roof and manning the premises myself once I near completion and start having things like Dishwashers and Ranges delivered and installed in the new kitchen cabinets.
Things have slid from August to September, but I really believe that if I buckle down and spend the time and money I can have things finished and on the market by November...possibly late October if I give it four or five days a week and hire a couple of friends to work a few days in between.
The good news is that the weather has calmed down and stopped running up to 110 heat index every day and dumping a couple inches of rain on my head every afternoon.
Someone call Al Gore and complain for me if you will, because my mud puddles have dried up and my stock in the Brunswick Rowboat Company is worth about 3 cents right now.
Hey Y'all...I have good news.
After almost two months of procrastination and mental diversion, I'm heading back over to "THE JOBSITE" in Brunswick this morning.
I've only spent a couple of days working there since late July, and since my patience and wallet is wearing thin with the delay and misuse of my meager capital investments, I guess that I should stand up and get back to work now so I can sell the place and afford to buy Christmas presents from Big Lots for my Mother and Sister.
If I had my own TV show, instead of "Flip This House," the producers would call my program "Tip This House" or possibly something else original like "The Sit around on your ass while your house falls apart Show."
Regardless, I suspect that both of my adoring viewers would be happy that I'm back on the air (or at least here on the Internet) shortly.
This next trip will be dedicated to fooling around making a list and trying to figure out what else needs to be done for completion, while my right hand man James curses and bitches sitting on top of a step ladder finishing the demolition back in the master bedroom and master bath.
I hope to install a pipe plug and re-rout the plumbing to offset the loss back in early August of less than a dozen feet of copper pipe connecting my hot water heater with the plumbing system.
The Brunswick Police Department has thus far yet to lift an eyebrow when I call them, so I guess that I'll have to resort to mounting machine guns on the roof and manning the premises myself once I near completion and start having things like Dishwashers and Ranges delivered and installed in the new kitchen cabinets.
Things have slid from August to September, but I really believe that if I buckle down and spend the time and money I can have things finished and on the market by November...possibly late October if I give it four or five days a week and hire a couple of friends to work a few days in between.
The good news is that the weather has calmed down and stopped running up to 110 heat index every day and dumping a couple inches of rain on my head every afternoon.
Someone call Al Gore and complain for me if you will, because my mud puddles have dried up and my stock in the Brunswick Rowboat Company is worth about 3 cents right now.
Thursday, September 27, 2007
Once A Dumbass...Always A Dumbass
Even If You're Highly Paid
I'm going to refrain from commenting much beyond my introduction, but look at what Michael Vick has been up to recently.
Special conditions placed on Vick after positive marijuana test
Associated Press
RICHMOND, Va. -- Michael Vick is now likely one misstep from jail.
The disgraced Atlanta Falcons quarterback tested positive for marijuana earlier this month, a violation of the conditions of his release as he awaits sentencing in federal court on a dogfighting charge that already jeopardizes his freedom and career.
Now, he's incurred the ire of the judge who could sentence him to up to five years in prison in the dogfighting case. On the day of Vick's guilty plea, U.S. District Judge Henry Hudson warned that he wouldn't be amused by any additional trouble.
Hudson, who will sentence Vick on Dec. 10, on Wednesday ordered him confined to his Virginia home between 10 p.m. and 6 a.m. with electronic monitoring. He also must submit to random drug testing.
If Vick fails another drug test, he likely will wind up like co-defendant Quanis Phillips -- incarcerated since his Aug. 17 plea hearing. Phillips failed a drug test when he had the electronic monitoring and random drug testing requirements.
Vick's positive urine sample was submitted Sept. 13, according to a document by a federal probation officer that was filed in U.S. District Court on Wednesday.
Oh well, you can't say that last month I didn't predict that something like this would happen.
It's really sorta sad.
I'm going to refrain from commenting much beyond my introduction, but look at what Michael Vick has been up to recently.
Special conditions placed on Vick after positive marijuana test
Associated Press
RICHMOND, Va. -- Michael Vick is now likely one misstep from jail.
The disgraced Atlanta Falcons quarterback tested positive for marijuana earlier this month, a violation of the conditions of his release as he awaits sentencing in federal court on a dogfighting charge that already jeopardizes his freedom and career.
Now, he's incurred the ire of the judge who could sentence him to up to five years in prison in the dogfighting case. On the day of Vick's guilty plea, U.S. District Judge Henry Hudson warned that he wouldn't be amused by any additional trouble.
Hudson, who will sentence Vick on Dec. 10, on Wednesday ordered him confined to his Virginia home between 10 p.m. and 6 a.m. with electronic monitoring. He also must submit to random drug testing.
If Vick fails another drug test, he likely will wind up like co-defendant Quanis Phillips -- incarcerated since his Aug. 17 plea hearing. Phillips failed a drug test when he had the electronic monitoring and random drug testing requirements.
Vick's positive urine sample was submitted Sept. 13, according to a document by a federal probation officer that was filed in U.S. District Court on Wednesday.
Oh well, you can't say that last month I didn't predict that something like this would happen.
It's really sorta sad.
Hypocrisy
Or Should We Just Call It TREASON?
Did you hear?
There was a big to-do up at Dartmouth College in Hanover, New Hampshire last night.
Some students, potential voters, and a bunch of local Democratic big wigs were probably peeing on themselves in excitement because of the list of VIP's in attendance.
In the end I suspect that some of them left feeling peed on AND pissed off, and as a result MoveOn.Org is probably rattling their George Soros fattened financial coffers in anticipation of mounting additional pressure on each participant because of the spineless cop-out position advanced by the featured speakers regarding troop deployments (or in John Murtha's words--re-deployments) in Iraq.
Does anyone but me find it odd that the "top three" so called Democratic presidental candidates (that would be sHrillary "give 'em theshaft Rodham" Clinton, Barack "I'm Experienced" Obama, and John "$1000 haircut" Edwards) couldn't manage to say that, if elected, that they would immediately bring our forces home to march around and salute each other on bases here on American soil instead of fighting terrorists on their own turf?
Seriously, not one of these two faced weasels would admit that they had a plan that would bring all of the troops home...EVEN BY THE END OF THEIR FIRST TERM AS PRESIDENT IN 2013!!!!!!!
HANOVER, N.H. - The leading Democratic White House hopefuls conceded Wednesday night they cannot guarantee to pull all U.S. combat troops from Iraq by the end of the next presidential term in 2013.
"I think it's hard to project four years from now," said Sen. Barack Obama of Illinois in the opening moments of a campaign debate in the nation's first primary state.
"It is very difficult to know what we're going to be inheriting," added Sen. Hillary Rodham Clinton of New York.
"I cannot make that commitment," said former Sen. John Edwards of North Carolina.
WHAT?
Given four years, even the smartest woman in America can't say that she could find a way to get us out of Iraq?
Well then, why the heck do we have a conversation every day with idiots like John sKerry and Ted Kennedy about this exact same issue?
Why the heck do we have a motion per day introduced by Democrats into the US House or Senate demanding troop reductions and funding cuts for military activity in Iraq, when at the same time the leading Democratic Presidential wanna-be's can't answer the question as to how and when they would bring the troops out?
Why the heck do we listen to these people as they lambaste President Bush for increasing troop strengths, then reducing troop strengths, not based on the direction of public opinion or the political winds, but rather on the advice of Military experts like Generals and commanders on the ground in the middle of the conflict?
Could it be because these people don't know SHIT about the effective use of our military?
Can you say STUPID?
Can you say Hypocrisy?
Well, like I said before, I'd just say Treason...
Did you hear?
There was a big to-do up at Dartmouth College in Hanover, New Hampshire last night.
Some students, potential voters, and a bunch of local Democratic big wigs were probably peeing on themselves in excitement because of the list of VIP's in attendance.
In the end I suspect that some of them left feeling peed on AND pissed off, and as a result MoveOn.Org is probably rattling their George Soros fattened financial coffers in anticipation of mounting additional pressure on each participant because of the spineless cop-out position advanced by the featured speakers regarding troop deployments (or in John Murtha's words--re-deployments) in Iraq.
Does anyone but me find it odd that the "top three" so called Democratic presidental candidates (that would be sHrillary "give 'em the
Seriously, not one of these two faced weasels would admit that they had a plan that would bring all of the troops home...EVEN BY THE END OF THEIR FIRST TERM AS PRESIDENT IN 2013!!!!!!!
HANOVER, N.H. - The leading Democratic White House hopefuls conceded Wednesday night they cannot guarantee to pull all U.S. combat troops from Iraq by the end of the next presidential term in 2013.
"I think it's hard to project four years from now," said Sen. Barack Obama of Illinois in the opening moments of a campaign debate in the nation's first primary state.
"It is very difficult to know what we're going to be inheriting," added Sen. Hillary Rodham Clinton of New York.
"I cannot make that commitment," said former Sen. John Edwards of North Carolina.
WHAT?
Given four years, even the smartest woman in America can't say that she could find a way to get us out of Iraq?
Well then, why the heck do we have a conversation every day with idiots like John sKerry and Ted Kennedy about this exact same issue?
Why the heck do we have a motion per day introduced by Democrats into the US House or Senate demanding troop reductions and funding cuts for military activity in Iraq, when at the same time the leading Democratic Presidential wanna-be's can't answer the question as to how and when they would bring the troops out?
Why the heck do we listen to these people as they lambaste President Bush for increasing troop strengths, then reducing troop strengths, not based on the direction of public opinion or the political winds, but rather on the advice of Military experts like Generals and commanders on the ground in the middle of the conflict?
Could it be because these people don't know SHIT about the effective use of our military?
Can you say STUPID?
Can you say Hypocrisy?
Well, like I said before, I'd just say Treason...
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
Corporal Gomer Pyle?
Shazam...
This story almost slipped under my radar screen, but I just found out that yesterday the Marine Corp gave an honorary promotion to Jim Nabors.
This story almost slipped under my radar screen, but I just found out that yesterday the Marine Corp gave an honorary promotion to Jim Nabors.
I'd say that it was way overdue.
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Separated At Birth?
Or Just A Concidence...
I watched the fiasco up in New York today. You know, the one over at Columbia University?
I just couldn't stop thinking about this, and I don't need words to tell you.
When it was all said and done, didn't this guy...
I watched the fiasco up in New York today. You know, the one over at Columbia University?
I just couldn't stop thinking about this, and I don't need words to tell you.
When it was all said and done, didn't this guy...
end up looking like just another one of these?
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Monday, September 24, 2007
An Ironic Moment Of Silence
Another Funny Guy Passes On...
Master French Mime, Marcel Marceau, died yesterday.
He was one of the few people that never said a word and still made me laugh.
RIP Monsieur Marceau
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Master French Mime, Marcel Marceau, died yesterday.
He was one of the few people that never said a word and still made me laugh.
RIP Monsieur Marceau
.
Sunday, September 23, 2007
Pride Of Pennsylvania
Not One Of His Finer Moments...
Yeah Jack..so you enlisted and that gives you the right to call people names and jump to conclusions.
(Is it just me, or isn't it odd that we're still paying for elevator operators in Washington DC government buildings so that Congressmen and Senators don't have to push the buttons themselves?)
Yeah Jack..so you enlisted and that gives you the right to call people names and jump to conclusions.
(Is it just me, or isn't it odd that we're still paying for elevator operators in Washington DC government buildings so that Congressmen and Senators don't have to push the buttons themselves?)
Saturday, September 22, 2007
Cinder-henge
I've Found Ancient Island Artifacts...
I was wandering around outside today in my yard and was amazed to find this previously undiscovered structure:
I was wandering around outside today in my yard and was amazed to find this previously undiscovered structure:
My discovery brought this scene to mind, thus the name of this posting:
Upon further study and investigation, it appears to be some kind of millenia old industrial structure designed by a race of long haired worshipers of the God of Deaireated Boiler Feed Water.
Here's what it probably looked like in the year 1959 BC:
And here's where the God of Propane Fire comes into the picture:
In spite of my best efforts in recreating the ancient rituals, I have to pray and do some more work tomorrow because my spirit isn't in the right place right now.
Oooohhhhhhhhmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm......
Friday, September 21, 2007
My Latest Monstrosity
It Looks Like Government Surplus...
In an effort to ensure my attention to quality control, all of my work is supervised by this horrible creature:
Errors will not be tolerated.
In an effort to ensure my attention to quality control, all of my work is supervised by this horrible creature:
Errors will not be tolerated.
Global Warming Weenies Celebrate
Actually they're crying in their Tofu Soup
I just got an E-mail from the National Weather Service saying that the soggy mess that we've been living under for the past few days has moved itself west and gotten organized over the Gulf of Mexico. Here, take a look:
I just got an E-mail from the National Weather Service saying that the soggy mess that we've been living under for the past few days has moved itself west and gotten organized over the Gulf of Mexico. Here, take a look:
There are actually some people out there who are secretly wishing that this storm will attain Hurricane strength and land back on top of New Orleans as Katrina part II. Of course they'll never admit it in public, but that's about the only thing that can keep this season from being a complete bust for them and their alarmist friends.
Does anyone but me notice that it's September 21st, eleven days past the peak of the 2007 Hurricane season, and this is only the tenth Tropical Depression?
What happened to the record season and killer storms Al Gore and his wild eyed tinfoil hat wearing followers were threatening us with?
This season has been even milder than 2006 was, but that didn't stop even a few normally reputable, well balanced people at NOAA and the Weather Channel from jumping on the human induced climate change bandwagon.
I thought that Global Warming was going to put me and most of NY City under 20 feet of water by Labor Day.
I've resisted writing in detail about what I know about this subject in the recent past, but let's just say that I'm privy to some private writings by people like Doctor Richard Lindzen, a Meteorologist at MIT, whom has been vilified by much of the so-called "scientific community" that supports man made global warming as fact.
The problem is, just because you have a PHD in some discipline like Ancient Indian Toilets or have the word "Scientist" in your job title/job description while you do obscure work in the field of Magneto-Hydrodynamics, doesn't mean that you know BEANS about predicting the weather and analyzing weather data.
In spite of what the "Professor" on Gilligan's Island told you, all smart people don't know everything about everything--particularly technical disciplines needing super computers to tell me it's going to rain tomorrow and then manage to be wrong almost half of the time.
If the weather nerds at the Weather Channel can't tell me today what the temperature is going to be at my house next Monday, how can they be relied on to tell me that it's going to be 1 degree hotter every day of the year twenty years from now?
Well...
I'm waiting for someone to give me an answer...
Yeah, I thought so...
OK, time's up, I've got to go out to the driveway now and try blowing up some copper pipe I'm putting together in the name of science.
Since I can't afford my own Corporate Jet, maybe my propane torch will help me raise my own carbon footprint.
Thursday, September 20, 2007
The Juice Is Loose
Who But The Prosecutor Even Cares?
Just watch...
I predict that this murdering asshole will run before it's all over with, and this time it won't be a "slow speed police chase."
Just watch...
I predict that this murdering asshole will run before it's all over with, and this time it won't be a "slow speed police chase."
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
Living Off Broadway
Working In The Theater Again...
The ironic thing about our move last month was that I landed here on Alabama Street on our little Island. (I'm FROM Alabama originally...GET IT?)
Around us are streets with other original names like Georgia, Florida, Tennessee, and nearby Broadway that runs parallel to Peachtree Street one block over. I'm not sure if I'm just lost on the globe in the southeastern US, or wandering somewhere in Atlanta sometimes, but then I snap to my senses and remember that we live here in paradise.
Thank GOD...
This morning I'm taking time off from my scientific research to head over to Brunswick to do some stage prep work for my buddies Rob and Heather at the Ritz Theater. I've spent a good deal of time over the past year or so making sawdust on their behalf building Theater sets and things to support their ongoing presentations, and they have some platforms they need put together for an upcoming show and I volunteered to fire up some of my new tools and "get er done.".
I may stop by Lowes or Home Depot and get a few more things to blow up this afternoon, or I may just come home and screw around in the yard doing some pruning and other maintenance that's been festering while I contemplated my research efforts.
Good gosh the weather is wonderful--I can stand outside for a couple of hours and not break a sweat.
The ironic thing about our move last month was that I landed here on Alabama Street on our little Island. (I'm FROM Alabama originally...GET IT?)
Around us are streets with other original names like Georgia, Florida, Tennessee, and nearby Broadway that runs parallel to Peachtree Street one block over. I'm not sure if I'm just lost on the globe in the southeastern US, or wandering somewhere in Atlanta sometimes, but then I snap to my senses and remember that we live here in paradise.
Thank GOD...
This morning I'm taking time off from my scientific research to head over to Brunswick to do some stage prep work for my buddies Rob and Heather at the Ritz Theater. I've spent a good deal of time over the past year or so making sawdust on their behalf building Theater sets and things to support their ongoing presentations, and they have some platforms they need put together for an upcoming show and I volunteered to fire up some of my new tools and "get er done.".
I may stop by Lowes or Home Depot and get a few more things to blow up this afternoon, or I may just come home and screw around in the yard doing some pruning and other maintenance that's been festering while I contemplated my research efforts.
Good gosh the weather is wonderful--I can stand outside for a couple of hours and not break a sweat.
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
Mission Control Photo's
I'm Demanding Comfort In The Face Of Danger...
This afternoon I'm out in the side yard fooling around with a slightly modified apparatus, and things aren't going as planned in this phase.
At least I'm nice and comfortable, having brought in a patio chair and provided myself with a drink and ashtray to support the smoking of a nice Honduran No. 2 Colorado Cigar in the process.
This afternoon I'm out in the side yard fooling around with a slightly modified apparatus, and things aren't going as planned in this phase.
At least I'm nice and comfortable, having brought in a patio chair and provided myself with a drink and ashtray to support the smoking of a nice Honduran No. 2 Colorado Cigar in the process.
(The big thing in the background with masses of green ferns growing on it is my new friend "Mr. Live Oak Tree" that lives in the middle of our front yard.)
Now instead of slamming my model with 150 PSI air in a single burst, I'm letting the compressor slowly raise the pressure. Things are so banged up and worn out from yesterday's antics that now I'm having to head off to Ace Hardware for some fresh plastic parts.
Can you say "Weird Science?"
THIS JUST IN VIA FOX NEWS:
Here's A Live Video Feed...Put on your safety glasses...
Am I Slightly More Than Slightly Disturbed...Or What?
.
Don't Call The Law
I'm Playing Outside...
As I've mentioned before, for the past month or so I've been studying an accident in a laundry and steam plant up in Atlanta that injured two people and caused a good deal of property damage.
Here's a photo of the actual accident scene:
As I've mentioned before, for the past month or so I've been studying an accident in a laundry and steam plant up in Atlanta that injured two people and caused a good deal of property damage.
Here's a photo of the actual accident scene:
That big white thing in the foreground is a 6" steel condensate pipe with a couple of inches of insulation wrapped around it.
The big round thing in the middle is a 42" diameter condensate receiver that had both flat ends blown off of it during the accident.
What is amazing to us is that both ends let go at once, so my job is to reproduce the accident on a smaller scale without using lethal 110 PSI 300 degree steam and burning my face and legs off in the process.
This morning I went over to Ace Hardware and bought some more brass and PVC pipe fittings, and when I got home I fooled around in my garage for awhile building my idea of a tank model, then I wandered out into an unimproved area of the side yard between our house and a big board fence to the house next door, and here's what I did with my contraption when it was all connected up to my air compressor:
In some places this might be considered against the law, but down here in the south we still call it...
R E S E A R C H.
Dammit...
Monday, September 17, 2007
The Status Is Quo
Things Are As They Should Be...In My Mind...
Well, they locked OJ up again. I'm not sure if he ever really spent one single night in jail before now, but he's truely one stupidnegro brother black former pro football player African American if he couldn't manage to run far, far away from the US and US jails after escaping a life sentence back in the 1990's.
I just have to shake my head and chuckle at his silly ass.
Meanwhile, the rain has returned to the Georgia coast and we basically hid inside for half of Saturday and Sunday, and as a result I did manage to get some good cooking done with the production of a Hawaiian Pizza Saturday night and Chicken Piccatta last night. Missy the Turbo Pup made it on Pizza and Pizza crust leftovers quite nicely.
Sunday before it started raining I cranked up the air compressor and tried to make some metal cans blow up in my driveway as part of my forensic work on the Atlanta Westin laundry accident project.
Can you guess which can I've been fooling with from this picture?
(They were both the same height when I started.)
Nothing actually exploded because the air hose fitting came loose, but after a little modification I will probably make a hole in something before the day is out tomorrow.
Would everyone be so kind as to take up a collection for my bond after the GBI and the FBI show up to discuss my operations?
If you don't hear from me for a couple of days, someone send up a flare...
.
Well, they locked OJ up again. I'm not sure if he ever really spent one single night in jail before now, but he's truely one stupid
I just have to shake my head and chuckle at his silly ass.
Meanwhile, the rain has returned to the Georgia coast and we basically hid inside for half of Saturday and Sunday, and as a result I did manage to get some good cooking done with the production of a Hawaiian Pizza Saturday night and Chicken Piccatta last night. Missy the Turbo Pup made it on Pizza and Pizza crust leftovers quite nicely.
Sunday before it started raining I cranked up the air compressor and tried to make some metal cans blow up in my driveway as part of my forensic work on the Atlanta Westin laundry accident project.
Can you guess which can I've been fooling with from this picture?
(They were both the same height when I started.)
Nothing actually exploded because the air hose fitting came loose, but after a little modification I will probably make a hole in something before the day is out tomorrow.
Would everyone be so kind as to take up a collection for my bond after the GBI and the FBI show up to discuss my operations?
If you don't hear from me for a couple of days, someone send up a flare...
.
Sunday, September 16, 2007
US Hurricane Season Still A Bust--Part II
Al Gore Still Doesn't Care...
Well, it's looking more and more like everyone should thank me for buying flood insurance for the first time this year.
On not one but TWO residences.
Both are within a couple thousand yards of the Atlantic Ocean...which, by the way, hasn't
risen up and flooded my dog and my bike off the front porch yet.
Wait a minute...
I just checked, and the Turbo Pup is in bed with Pat and the bike is still sitting comfortably where I left it.
Murphy's law working like it does, I suspect that things might have turned out differently if we had just resorted to sitting here with our eyes closed wearing our bathing suits and life preservers.
My generator is still sitting in the unopened box with a dry gas tank. I really want to get it out and play with it, but the salt air down here would probably disolve it into a pile of rust and faded plastic parts if I opened the shrinkwrap so I've resisted the urge.
I looked at the 2 AM forecast which has the latest threat, former tropical storm Ingrid, turning to turn north to die off shore in the cooler waters:
At the risk of jumping the gun, I think that I'll go take a bath in my emergency drinking water in celebration...
.
Well, it's looking more and more like everyone should thank me for buying flood insurance for the first time this year.
On not one but TWO residences.
Both are within a couple thousand yards of the Atlantic Ocean...which, by the way, hasn't
risen up and flooded my dog and my bike off the front porch yet.
Wait a minute...
I just checked, and the Turbo Pup is in bed with Pat and the bike is still sitting comfortably where I left it.
Murphy's law working like it does, I suspect that things might have turned out differently if we had just resorted to sitting here with our eyes closed wearing our bathing suits and life preservers.
My generator is still sitting in the unopened box with a dry gas tank. I really want to get it out and play with it, but the salt air down here would probably disolve it into a pile of rust and faded plastic parts if I opened the shrinkwrap so I've resisted the urge.
I looked at the 2 AM forecast which has the latest threat, former tropical storm Ingrid, turning to turn north to die off shore in the cooler waters:
At the risk of jumping the gun, I think that I'll go take a bath in my emergency drinking water in celebration...
.
Saturday, September 15, 2007
OJ Is Still A Criminal AND an Idiot
After That Realization...Why Does Anyone Actually Care?
I'd like to ask if someone would please call Mike Tyson and Michael Jackson and tell them it's safe to come out again in public?
I think that most of the silly Hollywood bimbos, Alex Baldwin, Sean Penn, and James Brolin might also stick their heads out oftheir asses the ground if they desire.
I'd like to ask if someone would please call Mike Tyson and Michael Jackson and tell them it's safe to come out again in public?
I think that most of the silly Hollywood bimbos, Alex Baldwin, Sean Penn, and James Brolin might also stick their heads out of
Thursday, September 13, 2007
I Want To Be A Superhero
Just Call Me "Bitch Slap Man"
I just got of the telephone with Comcast. Their "retention" department.
My forehead has bulging veins and sweat running down it, and my blood pressure is probably somewhere near 200 over 150.
After I let the idiots in the "customer non-service department" charge me for an entire month of cable/Internet service that we didn't need because their records didn't reflect my demand that they cancel the service in my name over at the condo, I just learned that they were going to charge me for another month of service...
just for fun.
So I completed the THIRD CONVERSATION cancelling my service with them and made an Internet payment for another $16.37 for service from 9/8 until today, even as we pay an artificially elevated rate for the same service here in Pat's name because their inept customer service department screwed us when she signed up for new installation.
Either these people are completely and totally feckless and inept, else they're just plain liars and thieves on an institutional basis.
Maybe both descriptions are true.
I told Pat that if things don't settle down a little around here that she's going to end up visiting me in jail, and I'll be the one wearing an orange jumpsuit.
The charge?
Murder.
You see, during this move, in spite of two weeks of advance planning and communication, only one thing worked out as planned--that being the transition on the county water system.
The power company, the cable/Internet company, two moving companies, Renter's Insurance, Flood Insurance, the local telephone company, and our ex-landlord all managed to cost me money one way or the other.
Over three hundred dollars worth of unused, un-needed, and unnecessary crap to date...and without fail, instead of a "so sorry," all we get is a "you're shit out of luck" attitude.
Pay us right now or else we're calling Equifax and Experian.
Taking a big breath...
Now that I've calmed down a little, I suggest that I would probably be more likely to act in a manner that would allow pleading to a reduced charge.
The charge of spontaneous "bitch slapping" people in the public defense would be a possibility.
Yeah, that's the ticket...I could grow arms like the Rubber Man or Professor Gadget so that I can fling my hands outwards something like twenty feet...then I'd just walk around doing my regular thing and when I see someone acting up or taking advantage of another innocent consumer I would take aim and sling my arm at a high velocity in their direction and...
POW!!!
Right up side the head it would land (my hand...that is...)
When the dust settled, they'd be lying on the ground quivering and drooling on themselves, possibly having soiled their pants in the process.
Then they'd wake up and go home with their tail between their legs, put on some clean underwear, and think twice the next time they're sitting at their desk at work being a moron and not doing their job, in the process costing me dozens of dollars which I have to pay as ransom if I don't want them to screw up my credit or have the Repo-Man knocking on my door.
Other than that, everything is just peachy around here.
Dammit...
I just got of the telephone with Comcast. Their "retention" department.
My forehead has bulging veins and sweat running down it, and my blood pressure is probably somewhere near 200 over 150.
After I let the idiots in the "customer non-service department" charge me for an entire month of cable/Internet service that we didn't need because their records didn't reflect my demand that they cancel the service in my name over at the condo, I just learned that they were going to charge me for another month of service...
just for fun.
So I completed the THIRD CONVERSATION cancelling my service with them and made an Internet payment for another $16.37 for service from 9/8 until today, even as we pay an artificially elevated rate for the same service here in Pat's name because their inept customer service department screwed us when she signed up for new installation.
Either these people are completely and totally feckless and inept, else they're just plain liars and thieves on an institutional basis.
Maybe both descriptions are true.
I told Pat that if things don't settle down a little around here that she's going to end up visiting me in jail, and I'll be the one wearing an orange jumpsuit.
The charge?
Murder.
You see, during this move, in spite of two weeks of advance planning and communication, only one thing worked out as planned--that being the transition on the county water system.
The power company, the cable/Internet company, two moving companies, Renter's Insurance, Flood Insurance, the local telephone company, and our ex-landlord all managed to cost me money one way or the other.
Over three hundred dollars worth of unused, un-needed, and unnecessary crap to date...and without fail, instead of a "so sorry," all we get is a "you're shit out of luck" attitude.
Pay us right now or else we're calling Equifax and Experian.
Taking a big breath...
Now that I've calmed down a little, I suggest that I would probably be more likely to act in a manner that would allow pleading to a reduced charge.
The charge of spontaneous "bitch slapping" people in the public defense would be a possibility.
Yeah, that's the ticket...I could grow arms like the Rubber Man or Professor Gadget so that I can fling my hands outwards something like twenty feet...then I'd just walk around doing my regular thing and when I see someone acting up or taking advantage of another innocent consumer I would take aim and sling my arm at a high velocity in their direction and...
POW!!!
Right up side the head it would land (my hand...that is...)
When the dust settled, they'd be lying on the ground quivering and drooling on themselves, possibly having soiled their pants in the process.
Then they'd wake up and go home with their tail between their legs, put on some clean underwear, and think twice the next time they're sitting at their desk at work being a moron and not doing their job, in the process costing me dozens of dollars which I have to pay as ransom if I don't want them to screw up my credit or have the Repo-Man knocking on my door.
Other than that, everything is just peachy around here.
Dammit...
Burp
Oh...Excuse Me...
Last night I did what was perhaps my best Low Country Boil EVER.
The most satisfying part was that we had threewitnesses to prove that I'm not lying guests over to share the experience with us.
If you've never done a low country boil at home, you really need to do one (unless you're allergic to seafood, but then I think that you could substitute par boiled chicken pieces or beef tips or something and still enjoy the experience.)
It's simple, simple simple--and here's all you need to make a hearty spread for six people:
four pounds of medium headless shrimp
two pounds of andouille sausage, cut into 4" segments
king crab legs (optional--if you're cleaning out the chest freezer--I did)
six ears of fresh corn, cut in half
twelve medium red potatoes
one large red onion, quartered
four large lemons, quartered
two bags Zatarains® Crab & Shrimp Boil
two tablespoons salt.
Cocktail Sauce:
three cups catsup
six tablespoons horseradish (more or less depending on your taste)
three tablespoons Worcestershire sauce
two tablespoons lemon juice
Toss your largest boiler, two thirds full of water, onto the stove top. It needs to be at least 12 quarts in size. If you don't have one, you can either go to Wal Mart or use two boilers like I did--one 8 quart and one 6 quart.
Now add your salt and the two bags of Shrimp Boil seasoning (one in each pot if you're using two.) Bring everything to a boil while you cut up your sausage and corn; make your cocktail sauce; and open yourself a nice chilled bottle of white wine.
Pour yourself a glass of wine and contemplate your seafood for a few minutes if you have the time.
Once the water is boiling, toss in your corn, potatoes, and sausage, then let things simmer for about twenty minutes. If you're using two pots, put your corn and potatoes in one pot by themselves, and spread your sausage links between the two pots. Add a few wedges of lemon to each pot also.
Now pull out a potato and check to see if it is done.
Is it done?
No? Well, put it back in and cook for another ten minutes.
When everything is done to your satisfaction, toss your seafood into the pot (or the big pot) and simmer for another five to seven minutes, then turn off the heat, dip your corn, potatoes, sausage, and seafood out onto a large serving platter.
If you can't dip everything out, pour the balance of the water out through a strainer basket, then grab yourself a plate, some butter, lemon wedges, and cocktail sauce, and go EAT.
I've got to go ride my bike over to get a newspaper now.
why don't you head out to the store to get some shrimp and things for dinner tonight?
.
Last night I did what was perhaps my best Low Country Boil EVER.
The most satisfying part was that we had three
If you've never done a low country boil at home, you really need to do one (unless you're allergic to seafood, but then I think that you could substitute par boiled chicken pieces or beef tips or something and still enjoy the experience.)
It's simple, simple simple--and here's all you need to make a hearty spread for six people:
four pounds of medium headless shrimp
two pounds of andouille sausage, cut into 4" segments
king crab legs (optional--if you're cleaning out the chest freezer--I did)
six ears of fresh corn, cut in half
twelve medium red potatoes
one large red onion, quartered
four large lemons, quartered
two bags Zatarains® Crab & Shrimp Boil
two tablespoons salt.
Cocktail Sauce:
three cups catsup
six tablespoons horseradish (more or less depending on your taste)
three tablespoons Worcestershire sauce
two tablespoons lemon juice
Toss your largest boiler, two thirds full of water, onto the stove top. It needs to be at least 12 quarts in size. If you don't have one, you can either go to Wal Mart or use two boilers like I did--one 8 quart and one 6 quart.
Now add your salt and the two bags of Shrimp Boil seasoning (one in each pot if you're using two.) Bring everything to a boil while you cut up your sausage and corn; make your cocktail sauce; and open yourself a nice chilled bottle of white wine.
Pour yourself a glass of wine and contemplate your seafood for a few minutes if you have the time.
Once the water is boiling, toss in your corn, potatoes, and sausage, then let things simmer for about twenty minutes. If you're using two pots, put your corn and potatoes in one pot by themselves, and spread your sausage links between the two pots. Add a few wedges of lemon to each pot also.
Now pull out a potato and check to see if it is done.
Is it done?
No? Well, put it back in and cook for another ten minutes.
When everything is done to your satisfaction, toss your seafood into the pot (or the big pot) and simmer for another five to seven minutes, then turn off the heat, dip your corn, potatoes, sausage, and seafood out onto a large serving platter.
If you can't dip everything out, pour the balance of the water out through a strainer basket, then grab yourself a plate, some butter, lemon wedges, and cocktail sauce, and go EAT.
I've got to go ride my bike over to get a newspaper now.
why don't you head out to the store to get some shrimp and things for dinner tonight?
.
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Don't Screw With My Books
The US Postal Service Strikes Again...
This year I've spent a good deal of money with Amazon.com rebuilding my Engineering reference library--something that I lost back in 2001 when the old house burned down.
The fire probably took close to 500 books with it. Fifty to seventy-five of them technical references from my days at Georgia Tech and working in the consulting business.
My most recent purchases were Schaum's Outlines Calculus and a book on Drywall installation to support my construction adventures.
About thirty bucks worth.
Any way, on Monday I got an e-mail saying that my order had been delivered at 1:30 PM.
Whattttt?
Hurrrraayyyyyyy!!!
I ran around outside looking by the front door and in the open garage...
Nothing.
Then I looked in the mailbox, but I was pretty sure that Amazon didn't roll up 9x12 books in tubes so my order wouldn't fit in there.
I was right.
It didn't, but still , it being the US Postal Service and all, and being a patient, reasonable sort of a guy, I figured that I would give it another day.
So I did. Actually two days, and as of noon today I still didn't have my books.
On a hunch, while out running errands, we drove by the old condo and guess what?
MY BOX OF $30 BOOKS WAS SITTING OUTSIDE BY MY OLD FRONT DOOR...a place that they had not delivered a single scrap of mail to in the past six weeks.
A place where all of the front porch plants and chairs had disappeared.
The place that had all of the curtains open and that you could clearly see there was no people living in and no furniture sitting in.
Yeah, THAT place.
Now I'm really worried because I have a couple of thousand dollars worth of checks floating around in the US Postal Systems "never never land", and I don't know who to call and complain to.
%#@*&! Government Services...
This year I've spent a good deal of money with Amazon.com rebuilding my Engineering reference library--something that I lost back in 2001 when the old house burned down.
The fire probably took close to 500 books with it. Fifty to seventy-five of them technical references from my days at Georgia Tech and working in the consulting business.
My most recent purchases were Schaum's Outlines Calculus and a book on Drywall installation to support my construction adventures.
About thirty bucks worth.
Any way, on Monday I got an e-mail saying that my order had been delivered at 1:30 PM.
Whattttt?
Hurrrraayyyyyyy!!!
I ran around outside looking by the front door and in the open garage...
Nothing.
Then I looked in the mailbox, but I was pretty sure that Amazon didn't roll up 9x12 books in tubes so my order wouldn't fit in there.
I was right.
It didn't, but still , it being the US Postal Service and all, and being a patient, reasonable sort of a guy, I figured that I would give it another day.
So I did. Actually two days, and as of noon today I still didn't have my books.
On a hunch, while out running errands, we drove by the old condo and guess what?
MY BOX OF $30 BOOKS WAS SITTING OUTSIDE BY MY OLD FRONT DOOR...a place that they had not delivered a single scrap of mail to in the past six weeks.
A place where all of the front porch plants and chairs had disappeared.
The place that had all of the curtains open and that you could clearly see there was no people living in and no furniture sitting in.
Yeah, THAT place.
Now I'm really worried because I have a couple of thousand dollars worth of checks floating around in the US Postal Systems "never never land", and I don't know who to call and complain to.
%#@*&! Government Services...
Do I Somehow Seem Indifferent?
I'm Torn Somewhere Between "Pissed Off" And "Just Don't Care"...
Picture me, spinning around in a mental and physical funk, trying to avert my eyes from crap like Congressional responses to four star Generals making reports and Bimbos performing at the MTV Awards Ceremonies--a place featuring music I've probably never heard and so called artists I don't recognise.
I've got more musical talent in my nose hair than some of these people exhibit. Thus the loss I feel when I manage to get a nose hair hung in one of my harmonicas.
(OK, forget that mental picture delivered in a moment of candor and weakness...)
Then there is Hollywood and it's products...
Have I mentioned that I have not set foot in a movie theater since we moved down here to our little island in 2004?
I also haven't rented or purchased any films since then, yet somehow I don't feel any less human or culturally unsophisticated than the next slob that I pass on the road while riding my bike.
Let's just say that I have "issues" and right now I'm resisting spewing venom on a personal basis in a bunch of directions because I don't want any lawsuits for liable and slander--although what I have to say about a couple of individuals and companies is TRUE.
Meanwhile, the US Postal Service continues to prove that an address change is at best a happenstance event conducted at their convenience--usually resulting in a ten to thirteen day delay in the mail delivery process.
Any private company that continued to provide the inferior service that we're living with after almost six weeks would be out of business by now, but then again we all know that the US government continues to prop up the postal service even as e-mail and FedEX/UPS slices their legs out from underneath them.
If I were a younger man I would consider buying a few pony's and starting a package delivery service.
Wait...I think that someone's already been down that avenue...
BTW...here's a shout out to my old College Roommate Rusty on his birthday...Rusty's 48 today..."What's Wrong With Your Leg...Rusty???"
Picture me, spinning around in a mental and physical funk, trying to avert my eyes from crap like Congressional responses to four star Generals making reports and Bimbos performing at the MTV Awards Ceremonies--a place featuring music I've probably never heard and so called artists I don't recognise.
I've got more musical talent in my nose hair than some of these people exhibit. Thus the loss I feel when I manage to get a nose hair hung in one of my harmonicas.
(OK, forget that mental picture delivered in a moment of candor and weakness...)
Then there is Hollywood and it's products...
Have I mentioned that I have not set foot in a movie theater since we moved down here to our little island in 2004?
I also haven't rented or purchased any films since then, yet somehow I don't feel any less human or culturally unsophisticated than the next slob that I pass on the road while riding my bike.
Let's just say that I have "issues" and right now I'm resisting spewing venom on a personal basis in a bunch of directions because I don't want any lawsuits for liable and slander--although what I have to say about a couple of individuals and companies is TRUE.
Meanwhile, the US Postal Service continues to prove that an address change is at best a happenstance event conducted at their convenience--usually resulting in a ten to thirteen day delay in the mail delivery process.
Any private company that continued to provide the inferior service that we're living with after almost six weeks would be out of business by now, but then again we all know that the US government continues to prop up the postal service even as e-mail and FedEX/UPS slices their legs out from underneath them.
If I were a younger man I would consider buying a few pony's and starting a package delivery service.
Wait...I think that someone's already been down that avenue...
BTW...here's a shout out to my old College Roommate Rusty on his birthday...Rusty's 48 today..."What's Wrong With Your Leg...Rusty???"
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Monday, September 10, 2007
Not Just Another Day At The Beach
Survival Of The (un)Fittest
Well, after a fairly uneventful day spent sleeping in late and finishing repainting and re-assembling my bicycle transport rack, I talked Pat and Missy the Turbo Pup into joining me at the beach on Sunday afternoon.
About 4 PM we loaded up a few things into the Suburban and I ratcheted both bicycles onto the rebuilt rack, and in about five minutes we were in the Old Coast Guard Station parking lot heading toward the sun and sand.
As the Turbo Pup and I bolted down the beach ahead of Pat who chose to walk instead of riding her bike, I noticed three young men and two women ahead of us that--from their pasty skin tone--were obviously...gasp...tourists entering the water and wading toward the sandbar which had been exposed during the 1:15 low tide.
The problemall of the visting dumbasses lovely fair skinned visitors tourists don't understand about wading out to the sandbar down here is that our tide runs about SIX OR SEVEN FEET normally, and with the new moon, yesterday's tide was probably closer to EIGHT FEET from high to low.
Just last week a 32 year old woman drowned on the exact same sand bar chasing her own children, and close to a dozen people have died since we've lived here because of their insane desire to wander a half mile offshore without understanding the dynamics of the ocean in this area.
Any way, I spent the next hour worrying about the safety of these five souls, and marking lines on the sand to measure the advance of the tide while they lounged around on the ever diminishing sand bar.
Finally, after about 75 minutes, and trying to ignore the drama unfolding in front of me, I called 911 and reported their situation to the operator. After telling her who I was, where I was, and what was happening, the silly bitch tried to connect me with the State Highway Patrol, so I hung up the Cell phone and waited again because by then the stranded party had noticed their situation and started moving around.
After another ten minutes, when it was clear that they were still not leaving the sand bar, I pointed them out to another beach patron whom agreed that I should call the authorities on their behalf.
I dialed 911 again, and this time the operator had the presence of mind to connect me with the Coast Guard, and the gentleman on the other end of the phone started staging a rescue operation as I reported on the movement of the group off of the bar into the deep channel that had developed between them and the shore as the tide rose.
Before the authorities could really get things moving, other bystanders had entered the surf and the party made it across the deep water and started wading to shore, so we called the official rescue effort off.
I ended up talking to the coast Guard twice more on the cell and the Glynn county sheriff's department called me to verify that the people had made it back to shore, and I and another bystander gave them a good lecture as they stumbled onto shore quite embarrassed by the stir they had caused with their offshore expedition.
Two of the three men had to literally carry the third man part of the way to shore, and one of the two girls was also quite shaken by the event. If any one of them had suscumbed to the current, the entire party most likely would have been lost. They were carried several hundred yards down the beach from where they first entered the surf.
Still, I think that they really didn't understand that their experience wasn't just bad luck or some happenstance occurrence, but was a brush with a real and ever present danger that the ocean presents each and every day out of the year.
I've had the pleasure of growing up going to the beach quite frequently, and I've taken survival swimming classes in college, had Navy swimming training, in addition to being a certified scuba diver and spent hundreds of hours water skiing and operating powerboats on lakes and offshore, and I WOULD NOT HAVE GONE WHERE THESE PEOPLE WENT AND FURTHER, in my present physical condition I might not have survived the return trip.
Regardless, I was happy that they made it back and that we didn't need helicopters, rescue swimmers, or the coroner, but the whole experience basically ruined my afternoon because I didn't go to the beach to work, I just wanted to hang out.
I guess the most frightening thing I learned was how long it takes to get someone excited enough to mobilize a rescue effort on our beach during the offseason. I also believe that just because the government elects to pave a parking lot beside the beach, that every moron in the United States need to come down here to our little island and screw up my Sunday afternoon playing baby sitter for them andtheir inbred kids little darlins.
And no, as some of my fellow islanders said today, the government shouldn't be expected to have to put up signs telling grown people to keep their stupid asses and the bodies of the aforementionedinbred kids little darlins off of the bloody sand bar at low tide.
Lions, Tigers, Meerkats, and the rest of the animal kingdom still understand the concept of "survival of the fittest", and I think that it's about time that all of the government school educated, lawyer hiring idiots out there got a clue that an ounce of prevention is worth a whole damn lot more than a pound of government mandated and taxpayer paid-for cure for practically everything that potentially ails them.
For future reference, I'm telling you people (not everyone, but you know who you are), I don't think that you should expect any supermen to come racing to your rescue every time you choose to do something INCREDIBLY STUPID, so don't put yourself in the kind of position I saw these people in today else someone's probably going to a funeral.
Dammit...
Well, after a fairly uneventful day spent sleeping in late and finishing repainting and re-assembling my bicycle transport rack, I talked Pat and Missy the Turbo Pup into joining me at the beach on Sunday afternoon.
About 4 PM we loaded up a few things into the Suburban and I ratcheted both bicycles onto the rebuilt rack, and in about five minutes we were in the Old Coast Guard Station parking lot heading toward the sun and sand.
As the Turbo Pup and I bolted down the beach ahead of Pat who chose to walk instead of riding her bike, I noticed three young men and two women ahead of us that--from their pasty skin tone--were obviously...gasp...tourists entering the water and wading toward the sandbar which had been exposed during the 1:15 low tide.
The problem
Just last week a 32 year old woman drowned on the exact same sand bar chasing her own children, and close to a dozen people have died since we've lived here because of their insane desire to wander a half mile offshore without understanding the dynamics of the ocean in this area.
Any way, I spent the next hour worrying about the safety of these five souls, and marking lines on the sand to measure the advance of the tide while they lounged around on the ever diminishing sand bar.
Finally, after about 75 minutes, and trying to ignore the drama unfolding in front of me, I called 911 and reported their situation to the operator. After telling her who I was, where I was, and what was happening, the silly bitch tried to connect me with the State Highway Patrol, so I hung up the Cell phone and waited again because by then the stranded party had noticed their situation and started moving around.
After another ten minutes, when it was clear that they were still not leaving the sand bar, I pointed them out to another beach patron whom agreed that I should call the authorities on their behalf.
I dialed 911 again, and this time the operator had the presence of mind to connect me with the Coast Guard, and the gentleman on the other end of the phone started staging a rescue operation as I reported on the movement of the group off of the bar into the deep channel that had developed between them and the shore as the tide rose.
Before the authorities could really get things moving, other bystanders had entered the surf and the party made it across the deep water and started wading to shore, so we called the official rescue effort off.
I ended up talking to the coast Guard twice more on the cell and the Glynn county sheriff's department called me to verify that the people had made it back to shore, and I and another bystander gave them a good lecture as they stumbled onto shore quite embarrassed by the stir they had caused with their offshore expedition.
Two of the three men had to literally carry the third man part of the way to shore, and one of the two girls was also quite shaken by the event. If any one of them had suscumbed to the current, the entire party most likely would have been lost. They were carried several hundred yards down the beach from where they first entered the surf.
Still, I think that they really didn't understand that their experience wasn't just bad luck or some happenstance occurrence, but was a brush with a real and ever present danger that the ocean presents each and every day out of the year.
I've had the pleasure of growing up going to the beach quite frequently, and I've taken survival swimming classes in college, had Navy swimming training, in addition to being a certified scuba diver and spent hundreds of hours water skiing and operating powerboats on lakes and offshore, and I WOULD NOT HAVE GONE WHERE THESE PEOPLE WENT AND FURTHER, in my present physical condition I might not have survived the return trip.
Regardless, I was happy that they made it back and that we didn't need helicopters, rescue swimmers, or the coroner, but the whole experience basically ruined my afternoon because I didn't go to the beach to work, I just wanted to hang out.
I guess the most frightening thing I learned was how long it takes to get someone excited enough to mobilize a rescue effort on our beach during the offseason. I also believe that just because the government elects to pave a parking lot beside the beach, that every moron in the United States need to come down here to our little island and screw up my Sunday afternoon playing baby sitter for them and
And no, as some of my fellow islanders said today, the government shouldn't be expected to have to put up signs telling grown people to keep their stupid asses and the bodies of the aforementioned
Lions, Tigers, Meerkats, and the rest of the animal kingdom still understand the concept of "survival of the fittest", and I think that it's about time that all of the government school educated, lawyer hiring idiots out there got a clue that an ounce of prevention is worth a whole damn lot more than a pound of government mandated and taxpayer paid-for cure for practically everything that potentially ails them.
For future reference, I'm telling you people (not everyone, but you know who you are), I don't think that you should expect any supermen to come racing to your rescue every time you choose to do something INCREDIBLY STUPID, so don't put yourself in the kind of position I saw these people in today else someone's probably going to a funeral.
Dammit...
Sunday, September 09, 2007
Cigars Versus Cigarettes
I've Got Champagne Taste On A Beer Budget
Over the past ten years I've found myself inadvertently conducting a fairly interesting social experiment, and the results are predictably surprising (as opposed to surprisingly predictable.)
My laboratories are the bars and restaurants of the world, and the control substance is tobacco, something I've only starting smoking in limited quantities in this same time period.
Fortunately I don't have the nicotine addiction gene, so I never picked up the cigarette habit back when I was in college in the 1970's and smoking a 50 cent pack of Marlboro's was cool.
Thank God I never did, what with a pack of Cigs costing nearly FOUR DOLLARS now, and the government stepping in and passing laws telling private businessmen where they can and can't let their patrons consume their addictive drug of choice.
I do, however, enjoy a nice cigar on occasion, although my tobacco habit waxes and wanes with my financial fortunes and the availability of decent Dominican or Nicaraguan products. I have a little humidor that holds a single bundle or box of Cigars, possibly a few more of the smaller ring gauge, and I've found a decent Cigar dealer that is just around the corner from me and will sell me an occasional bundle of unbranded "seconds" for a good price
What kills me is that I, a non-smoker for most of my nearly fifty years, have sat in silence in smoke filled restaurants and night clubs while three quarters of the population puffed their lives away, and now that I elect to fire up a cigar every now and then, people will walk twenty yards across a crowded room to tell me my smoke stinks.
Back in the day, when almost everyone smoked, I'd come home from a "guys night out" shooting pool with the boys and my ex-wife would make me get undressed in the garage because my clothes smelled so badly of cigarette smoke, and now I've got people holding lit cigarettes in their hand bitching at me because I'm smoking a Cigar.
Seriously, I once had a lady walk into a club down in Ft. Lauderdale where I was smoking (she was holding a cigarette) and complain to me and her girlfriends about how cigar smoke made her sick. I had just cut the end off of a TWELVE DOLLAR Davidoff Robusto and fired it up, but out of difference to my vocal co-combustors I extinguished my cigar. Then not thirty seconds later the silly bitch and her entourage decided the place was too crowded and departed to "go somewhere else."
Just Damn...
The Cigar smokers in the crowd will probably agree that smoking a Cigar that has been previously lit is never quite the same as the taste obtained burning one in a single half hour uninterrupted session.
What is it about people that not only causes them to think that one form of carcinogenic vapor and particulate matter is socially more acceptable than another, but makes them come up to a complete stranger and demand that I take my tobacco elsewhere when they puff theirs in front of me and their friends and family 24/7?
After all, I smoke good cigars, not things sold beside convenience store cash registers that smell like vanilla or fruit or a dog turd wrapped in newspaper, and I generally verify that Cigars are acceptable with the management prior to lighting a match.
The King and Prince Hotel located down here on our little island has a humidor in their bar and sells overpriced mishandled Cigars if you really want one, but...
you can't actually SMOKE Cigars inside their establishment--even before Georgia changed the law to end tobacco smoking in restaurants.
A couple of restaurants I frequented in Atlanta had the same queer policy--selling you expensive tobacco that you can't use until you get into your car or arrive home.
Like my affinity for fine vintage Port Wine, I find it interesting to learn about Cigars and their history, and I will appreciate the day when Fidel Castro dies and we finally end the fifty year embargo on Cuba so I can get a real Cuban Cigar for less than $30. (Right now I have to settle for the product of Cuban seed grown somewhere else in the Carribbean.)
I've only smoked something represented as a true Cuban Cigar twice in my life. The first time was on a dive excursion out to Walkers Cay Bahamas back in 1997, and the second time was while enjoying a desert course at the Chicago Chophouse that same year.
Both times I paid $30 for the experience, and the Chophouse threw in a little glass of 1966 vintage Fonseca Porto for an extra thirty bucks.
Thirty dollars or two dollars fifty cents, I'll be damned if I'm putting out any more Cigars for anyone but possibly Pat and my Mother, so just take your allergies and your bad attitude elsewhere.
Me and my bad habits...what can I say?
Over the past ten years I've found myself inadvertently conducting a fairly interesting social experiment, and the results are predictably surprising (as opposed to surprisingly predictable.)
My laboratories are the bars and restaurants of the world, and the control substance is tobacco, something I've only starting smoking in limited quantities in this same time period.
Fortunately I don't have the nicotine addiction gene, so I never picked up the cigarette habit back when I was in college in the 1970's and smoking a 50 cent pack of Marlboro's was cool.
Thank God I never did, what with a pack of Cigs costing nearly FOUR DOLLARS now, and the government stepping in and passing laws telling private businessmen where they can and can't let their patrons consume their addictive drug of choice.
I do, however, enjoy a nice cigar on occasion, although my tobacco habit waxes and wanes with my financial fortunes and the availability of decent Dominican or Nicaraguan products. I have a little humidor that holds a single bundle or box of Cigars, possibly a few more of the smaller ring gauge, and I've found a decent Cigar dealer that is just around the corner from me and will sell me an occasional bundle of unbranded "seconds" for a good price
What kills me is that I, a non-smoker for most of my nearly fifty years, have sat in silence in smoke filled restaurants and night clubs while three quarters of the population puffed their lives away, and now that I elect to fire up a cigar every now and then, people will walk twenty yards across a crowded room to tell me my smoke stinks.
Back in the day, when almost everyone smoked, I'd come home from a "guys night out" shooting pool with the boys and my ex-wife would make me get undressed in the garage because my clothes smelled so badly of cigarette smoke, and now I've got people holding lit cigarettes in their hand bitching at me because I'm smoking a Cigar.
Seriously, I once had a lady walk into a club down in Ft. Lauderdale where I was smoking (she was holding a cigarette) and complain to me and her girlfriends about how cigar smoke made her sick. I had just cut the end off of a TWELVE DOLLAR Davidoff Robusto and fired it up, but out of difference to my vocal co-combustors I extinguished my cigar. Then not thirty seconds later the silly bitch and her entourage decided the place was too crowded and departed to "go somewhere else."
Just Damn...
The Cigar smokers in the crowd will probably agree that smoking a Cigar that has been previously lit is never quite the same as the taste obtained burning one in a single half hour uninterrupted session.
What is it about people that not only causes them to think that one form of carcinogenic vapor and particulate matter is socially more acceptable than another, but makes them come up to a complete stranger and demand that I take my tobacco elsewhere when they puff theirs in front of me and their friends and family 24/7?
After all, I smoke good cigars, not things sold beside convenience store cash registers that smell like vanilla or fruit or a dog turd wrapped in newspaper, and I generally verify that Cigars are acceptable with the management prior to lighting a match.
The King and Prince Hotel located down here on our little island has a humidor in their bar and sells overpriced mishandled Cigars if you really want one, but...
you can't actually SMOKE Cigars inside their establishment--even before Georgia changed the law to end tobacco smoking in restaurants.
A couple of restaurants I frequented in Atlanta had the same queer policy--selling you expensive tobacco that you can't use until you get into your car or arrive home.
Like my affinity for fine vintage Port Wine, I find it interesting to learn about Cigars and their history, and I will appreciate the day when Fidel Castro dies and we finally end the fifty year embargo on Cuba so I can get a real Cuban Cigar for less than $30. (Right now I have to settle for the product of Cuban seed grown somewhere else in the Carribbean.)
I've only smoked something represented as a true Cuban Cigar twice in my life. The first time was on a dive excursion out to Walkers Cay Bahamas back in 1997, and the second time was while enjoying a desert course at the Chicago Chophouse that same year.
Both times I paid $30 for the experience, and the Chophouse threw in a little glass of 1966 vintage Fonseca Porto for an extra thirty bucks.
Thirty dollars or two dollars fifty cents, I'll be damned if I'm putting out any more Cigars for anyone but possibly Pat and my Mother, so just take your allergies and your bad attitude elsewhere.
Me and my bad habits...what can I say?
Saturday, September 08, 2007
My Left Over Rain Storm Finally Gets National Attention
I Are Your Weather Guru...
OK Ladies & Gentlemen, It's like this.
I'm pissed.
After all, how can I ever get into the weather prediction business if I keep on keeping my predictions to myself?
You see, it was exactly one week ago I was sitting here on the Internet and watching the Weather Channel, looking at a rotating mass of atmospheric energy that was anchored slightly offshore of Sapelo Island, Georgia.
It was basically a big giant blob of juicy clouds that insisted on soaking me and my Island home, and by default it saturated my Friday night football game halftime antics in the process.
I got over it since then, after coming home and applying a few pounds of Gold Bond Powder and Tinactin anti-fungal cream to the appropriate body parts, but I've still resented the little storm's imposition on my life as I watched it continue to spin away offshore over the past week.
Was I the only one that noticed it's features?
Apparently not, because now it's official...
My little local rainstorm has organized itself and now it's gotten it's own name. Here, take a look:
What bothers me most is that the Weather Channel's Jim Cantori gets all of the glory here, while I lived through the early stages of the storm's development and didn't have a camera crew or an airplane ticket thrust upon me to provide the coverage for all of the Katrina refugees and the balance of the American population that expects a storm to come knocking on their front door between now and November 30th.
Well, at least Al Gore and the rest of the Global Warming "Weather Weenines" get another storm to add to their 2007 listing.
Please excuse me while I yawn without placing my hand over my mouth...
OK Ladies & Gentlemen, It's like this.
I'm pissed.
After all, how can I ever get into the weather prediction business if I keep on keeping my predictions to myself?
You see, it was exactly one week ago I was sitting here on the Internet and watching the Weather Channel, looking at a rotating mass of atmospheric energy that was anchored slightly offshore of Sapelo Island, Georgia.
It was basically a big giant blob of juicy clouds that insisted on soaking me and my Island home, and by default it saturated my Friday night football game halftime antics in the process.
I got over it since then, after coming home and applying a few pounds of Gold Bond Powder and Tinactin anti-fungal cream to the appropriate body parts, but I've still resented the little storm's imposition on my life as I watched it continue to spin away offshore over the past week.
Was I the only one that noticed it's features?
Apparently not, because now it's official...
My little local rainstorm has organized itself and now it's gotten it's own name. Here, take a look:
What bothers me most is that the Weather Channel's Jim Cantori gets all of the glory here, while I lived through the early stages of the storm's development and didn't have a camera crew or an airplane ticket thrust upon me to provide the coverage for all of the Katrina refugees and the balance of the American population that expects a storm to come knocking on their front door between now and November 30th.
Well, at least Al Gore and the rest of the Global Warming "Weather Weenines" get another storm to add to their 2007 listing.
Please excuse me while I yawn without placing my hand over my mouth...
Friday, September 07, 2007
Don't Fence Me In
Surrounded By Surplus Concrete...
Good news...the fence went in surprisingly quickly this morning. Home Depot was on site by 8:30 AM with my purchase, and I was home by 1:00.
I find it very satisfying to be healthy and physically fit again. Today I found myself strong enough to toss 900 pounds of quickcrete around not once, but twice (Home Depot loaded them on TOP of the fence panels so I had to move them) and still have energy to come home and start fooling around with some other projects.
Of course there were only four eight foot panels and five posts, but the little 2-1/2 HP auger I rented hummed right along digging 24" to 30" deep post holes before I could break a good sweat.
I've got to go back and install the hinges and latch on the gate next week, but otherwise the back of the property is secured and identified as a place where people shouldn't want to dump the miscellaneous BS that keeps showing up in the alley.
The surplus concrete came about through my miscalculation of the quantity required, and then when I realized that the auger only had a 6" bit, it was evident that the 4"x4" posts were going to sit in the bare dirt because I was too lazy to carry five gallon buckets of water from the kitchen sink to the property line.
I hate cutting corners, but since the fence isn't mine (or won't be in a few months) I felt like that the deep embedment would make up for the lack of cement. Of course the fence panels may take off and fly over to the Brunswick Marina in the next tropical storm, but there's a ten foot high fence directly across the alley about twenty feet away that should deflect some of nature's wrath.
Meanwhile, after moving all 18 bags of sackcrete once to get them off of the fence panels, I moved them again to load them into the suburban and hauled them home in anticipation of getting a $100 refund this weekend.
One less thing, I guess.
But...
Now our clothes dryer has decided to stop drying clothes--instead just tumbling them into knots and wearing lint off them in the process. It's probably the thermostat or the heating element, but now I have to get out my multimeter and jack around under it's hood looking for loose wires and making sparks.
Fortunately Kenmore has a good web site with diagrams and I've already checked on the price of the heating element, so at least this new adventure will cost less than my concrete savings.
I really should jump on a bus or into a carpool and run over to the football game tonight to wrestle with my big pyramid structure, but you know what???
I'm a bit tired of my volunteering efforts right now, and technically I've already trained a couple of people to handle things so I think that I'm going to stay home and work on my bike rack paint job, electrocute myself in my dryer, and possibly wander over to our local pub for free hors d'oeuvres and a couple of drinks at happy hour.
Then I'm gonna come home and grill a couple of Fillet Mignon's on the grill, toss some steamed asparagus on the side, and doze on the sofa watching Jeopardy.
Good news...the fence went in surprisingly quickly this morning. Home Depot was on site by 8:30 AM with my purchase, and I was home by 1:00.
I find it very satisfying to be healthy and physically fit again. Today I found myself strong enough to toss 900 pounds of quickcrete around not once, but twice (Home Depot loaded them on TOP of the fence panels so I had to move them) and still have energy to come home and start fooling around with some other projects.
Of course there were only four eight foot panels and five posts, but the little 2-1/2 HP auger I rented hummed right along digging 24" to 30" deep post holes before I could break a good sweat.
I've got to go back and install the hinges and latch on the gate next week, but otherwise the back of the property is secured and identified as a place where people shouldn't want to dump the miscellaneous BS that keeps showing up in the alley.
The surplus concrete came about through my miscalculation of the quantity required, and then when I realized that the auger only had a 6" bit, it was evident that the 4"x4" posts were going to sit in the bare dirt because I was too lazy to carry five gallon buckets of water from the kitchen sink to the property line.
I hate cutting corners, but since the fence isn't mine (or won't be in a few months) I felt like that the deep embedment would make up for the lack of cement. Of course the fence panels may take off and fly over to the Brunswick Marina in the next tropical storm, but there's a ten foot high fence directly across the alley about twenty feet away that should deflect some of nature's wrath.
Meanwhile, after moving all 18 bags of sackcrete once to get them off of the fence panels, I moved them again to load them into the suburban and hauled them home in anticipation of getting a $100 refund this weekend.
One less thing, I guess.
But...
Now our clothes dryer has decided to stop drying clothes--instead just tumbling them into knots and wearing lint off them in the process. It's probably the thermostat or the heating element, but now I have to get out my multimeter and jack around under it's hood looking for loose wires and making sparks.
Fortunately Kenmore has a good web site with diagrams and I've already checked on the price of the heating element, so at least this new adventure will cost less than my concrete savings.
I really should jump on a bus or into a carpool and run over to the football game tonight to wrestle with my big pyramid structure, but you know what???
I'm a bit tired of my volunteering efforts right now, and technically I've already trained a couple of people to handle things so I think that I'm going to stay home and work on my bike rack paint job, electrocute myself in my dryer, and possibly wander over to our local pub for free hors d'oeuvres and a couple of drinks at happy hour.
Then I'm gonna come home and grill a couple of Fillet Mignon's on the grill, toss some steamed asparagus on the side, and doze on the sofa watching Jeopardy.
Thursday, September 06, 2007
Fall Approaches
And Young Men's Thought Turn To What?...Halloween?
Boy oh boy has the weather ever shifted gears this week here on our little island.
I can walk outside for five minutes to take out the trash or amble around the yard picking up limbs and globs of Spanish moss off the lawn and come back inside without searching for a towel to dry my body on. I can sit on the sofa after an outside excursion without Pat making me sit on a beach towel.
I'm able to walk out into my new garage and work on projects like repainting my bike rack and actually see what I'm doing without pausing to wipe sweat out of my eyes every thirty seconds.
Speaking of Spanish Moss, be careful what you ask for because I've always thought it would be cool to live under Live Oak trees draped with the stuff, and now I've found out that Spanish Moss would apparently enjoy living on the ground rather than up in the limbs of trees, because I've hauled a couple of wheelbarrow loads worth over into our ever growing mulch pile in the past month.
I've basically got Spanish Moss growing on practically every surface except my ears and butt.
Seriously, the stuff is everywhere around here, even in the shrubbery. I think that our house plants will soon have moss growing in them if we're not careful.
If you'll send me your address, I'll ship you a big bail after the next thunderstorm knocks it out of the trees into the yard--for free.
I'm also happy to report that we're on diligent lookout for popcorn lung, particularly since the new place came with a built in microwave oven and I've taken to popping a bag every day or so. Thus far I've managed to avoid contracting this new malady, but you never know...and I enjoy a good media induced panic just like the nextsucker fellow.
I'm sorry to report that my blogging has been suffering for no other reason than a total lack of effort, not lack of time. I've just been coasting along while I rearrange my priorities and schedule as new things catch my attention.
Tomorrow is "fence day" over at the Brunswick job site, with Home Depot delivering a load of pressure treated fence panels, 4x4 posts, and a new front door for the building. The City of Brunswick finally followed through with their promise to remove the giant pile of debris that my nighttime visitors had deposited on the alley side of the property, and I want to get the fence in place before anyone has the idea of rebuilding the impromptu landfill again.
I'm renting a so-called "one man" auger to dig the fence post holes with, instead of killing myself with a set of post hole diggers for a couple of hours. I think that it will be $30 well spent, but it's still going to be interesting getting five post holes on a straight line across the property line.
I may end up with the world's most crooked fence, but any fence is better than no fence at all, I guess.
Regarding my Halloween reference...we're getting to celebrate Halloween here for the first time in years. We're actually expecting trick-or-treaters for a change. The family next door has FIVE kids--what they were thinking I'll never know, but I do have a pretty good idea what they've been doing after the sun goes down.
In Atlanta I was usually out at a costume party on Halloween, else we lived in a Condo complex populated entirely by barren men and women over the age of twenty-one that were too busy drinking and exposing their body parts to each other on Halloween to bother stopping by to beg for candy.
At the Sea Palms condos we never got any kids to come by, and everyone but us that lived there was closer to 100 than costume wearing age so I ended up eating all of the candy that Pat didn't consume.
So any way, I'm thinking about working up a new costume this year, based on the old Viking theme that I built in the 1990's and won a number of contests with. I spent about $100 on the attire back then, and I probably won about $500 over a three or four year period attending contests hosted by various establishments like Dave and Busters and some other local pubs & Taverns. I also wore the costume at private gatherings and usually was credited with having one of the most elaborate home made disguises in the crowd.
I think that the "Orc's" from Middle Earth in the "Lord of the Rings" movies will also have some influence on my design, so I've been re-watching the movies the past couple of nights looking for inspiration.
My friend Robin,the yard guy the landscaper, just got here, so I have to go wave my arms and supervise his efforts now.
Wish me luck.
Boy oh boy has the weather ever shifted gears this week here on our little island.
I can walk outside for five minutes to take out the trash or amble around the yard picking up limbs and globs of Spanish moss off the lawn and come back inside without searching for a towel to dry my body on. I can sit on the sofa after an outside excursion without Pat making me sit on a beach towel.
I'm able to walk out into my new garage and work on projects like repainting my bike rack and actually see what I'm doing without pausing to wipe sweat out of my eyes every thirty seconds.
Speaking of Spanish Moss, be careful what you ask for because I've always thought it would be cool to live under Live Oak trees draped with the stuff, and now I've found out that Spanish Moss would apparently enjoy living on the ground rather than up in the limbs of trees, because I've hauled a couple of wheelbarrow loads worth over into our ever growing mulch pile in the past month.
I've basically got Spanish Moss growing on practically every surface except my ears and butt.
Seriously, the stuff is everywhere around here, even in the shrubbery. I think that our house plants will soon have moss growing in them if we're not careful.
If you'll send me your address, I'll ship you a big bail after the next thunderstorm knocks it out of the trees into the yard--for free.
I'm also happy to report that we're on diligent lookout for popcorn lung, particularly since the new place came with a built in microwave oven and I've taken to popping a bag every day or so. Thus far I've managed to avoid contracting this new malady, but you never know...and I enjoy a good media induced panic just like the next
I'm sorry to report that my blogging has been suffering for no other reason than a total lack of effort, not lack of time. I've just been coasting along while I rearrange my priorities and schedule as new things catch my attention.
Tomorrow is "fence day" over at the Brunswick job site, with Home Depot delivering a load of pressure treated fence panels, 4x4 posts, and a new front door for the building. The City of Brunswick finally followed through with their promise to remove the giant pile of debris that my nighttime visitors had deposited on the alley side of the property, and I want to get the fence in place before anyone has the idea of rebuilding the impromptu landfill again.
I'm renting a so-called "one man" auger to dig the fence post holes with, instead of killing myself with a set of post hole diggers for a couple of hours. I think that it will be $30 well spent, but it's still going to be interesting getting five post holes on a straight line across the property line.
I may end up with the world's most crooked fence, but any fence is better than no fence at all, I guess.
Regarding my Halloween reference...we're getting to celebrate Halloween here for the first time in years. We're actually expecting trick-or-treaters for a change. The family next door has FIVE kids--what they were thinking I'll never know, but I do have a pretty good idea what they've been doing after the sun goes down.
In Atlanta I was usually out at a costume party on Halloween, else we lived in a Condo complex populated entirely by barren men and women over the age of twenty-one that were too busy drinking and exposing their body parts to each other on Halloween to bother stopping by to beg for candy.
At the Sea Palms condos we never got any kids to come by, and everyone but us that lived there was closer to 100 than costume wearing age so I ended up eating all of the candy that Pat didn't consume.
So any way, I'm thinking about working up a new costume this year, based on the old Viking theme that I built in the 1990's and won a number of contests with. I spent about $100 on the attire back then, and I probably won about $500 over a three or four year period attending contests hosted by various establishments like Dave and Busters and some other local pubs & Taverns. I also wore the costume at private gatherings and usually was credited with having one of the most elaborate home made disguises in the crowd.
I think that the "Orc's" from Middle Earth in the "Lord of the Rings" movies will also have some influence on my design, so I've been re-watching the movies the past couple of nights looking for inspiration.
My friend Robin,
Wish me luck.
Words To Live By
As For Me...I'm Living The Lord Of The Rings...
The quest stands but upon the edge of a knife...
Stray but a little, and it will fail...
To The Ruin, OF ALL.
The quest stands but upon the edge of a knife...
Stray but a little, and it will fail...
To The Ruin, OF ALL.
Tuesday, September 04, 2007
Things You (Won't) Find On The Internet
And A Day Off On My Birthday...
As you probably noticed, I didn't write anything yesterday. It turns out that I also ended up not reading much on the Internet either.
In spite of it being a red letter day on my personal calendar, after much consideration and little fan fair, it was only at the last minute that I decided what I was going to do yesterday on my birthday. It was basically by default.
I still had a great time, however, because I live on an island, and thus I'm already where many people want to go on vacation. I sometimes have to remind myself of that fact, but not often.
Any way, besides smoking three killer cigars, my day consisted of sleeping late, having a late lunch at the Sea Palms Country Club, then lounging by the pool at our old condo for a couple of hours sipping cheep light beer--enjoying the company of Pat and Missy the Turbo Pup.
The weather finally broke for us, and I wasn't about to waste the breezy clear sky's and high eighty degree temperatures sitting inside, working on construction, or even blogging.
Dinner consisted of a wonderful slab of pork tenderloin, grilled to about 150 degrees F inside, and a couple of ears of sweet ripe yellow corn roasted to death in the oven.
After dozing on the sofa while watching Clemson beat Florida State in football, I capped things off by smoking the third cigar while doing a midnight bike ride covering five or six miles looping around the south end of the island and stopping to look at the lighthouse and stare at the beach for a few minutes, contemplating what is quickly becoming a half century residing on our lovely planet.
I don't think of myself as old yet...just "experienced."
In my first forty-eight years I've done some stuff that most people have never accomplished, some of which people usually try not to do.
For instance, have you ever:
Survived plugging a bobby pin into an electric outlet?
Won third place in the Soap Box Derby?
Built a balsa wood gasoline powered model airplane from scratch that flew away out of sight?
Played a trumpet solo, standing in the middle of a football field, in front of six thousand people?
Walked outside in the eye of a hurricane to use a chain saw to cut the trees off your parent's house and cars?
Took off and landed in a helicopter on an aircraft carrier? Flown a helicopter with an instructor pilot?
Helped dig bus passenger victims out of the mud from a landslide in the Philippines?
Been to Alaska?
Received a ticket for driving 110 MPH in a 55 MPH zone?
Had a shotgun pumped in your back and the barrel of a pistol broken off on your head in a robbery?
Took off and landed solo in an airplane? At more than one airport?
Driven a power boat 20 miles off shore, out of sight of land, and returned to the marina on time and without having to call the Coast Guard or appear on CNN?
Built over 400 industrial smoke stacks, and the process climbed a ladder 200' tall; or been lifted by a crane 250' into the air in a metal basket?
Designed and built your own house?
Attended a bowl game where your college football team won the NCAA Division I national championship?
Made a million dollars?
Lost a million and one half dollars?
Seen the smile on the face of a new homeowner when they get the keys for their new Habitat for Humanity house?
Survived having your house burn down?
Lived on the beach on the Gulf of Mexico?
Water skied in Montego Bay Jamaica?
Lived on a boat?
Lived on a Barrier Island?
Drank a beer with Travis Tritt?
Played the part of an insane guy in a mental institute? Or designed and built the set for a play?
Played harmonica on stage with Blues guitarist Theodis Ealy?
Written a Blog?
No?
Well, get busy then.
I've got to go now and try to think up some more stuff to do over the next 48 years...
UPDATED...
I almost forgot to mention these antics:
Taking off and landing from the water in a 1948 Grumman "Goose" seaplane on my way from Ft. Lauderdale to Walker's Cay Bahamas.
Scuba diving to the bottom 120' below the surface of the sea on the same trip.
Scuba diving with over 100 sharks (bulls, black tips, Nurse, Caribbean reef) and a bunch of other stuff with teeth on two different one hour dives on the same trip in 1997.
As you probably noticed, I didn't write anything yesterday. It turns out that I also ended up not reading much on the Internet either.
In spite of it being a red letter day on my personal calendar, after much consideration and little fan fair, it was only at the last minute that I decided what I was going to do yesterday on my birthday. It was basically by default.
I still had a great time, however, because I live on an island, and thus I'm already where many people want to go on vacation. I sometimes have to remind myself of that fact, but not often.
Any way, besides smoking three killer cigars, my day consisted of sleeping late, having a late lunch at the Sea Palms Country Club, then lounging by the pool at our old condo for a couple of hours sipping cheep light beer--enjoying the company of Pat and Missy the Turbo Pup.
The weather finally broke for us, and I wasn't about to waste the breezy clear sky's and high eighty degree temperatures sitting inside, working on construction, or even blogging.
Dinner consisted of a wonderful slab of pork tenderloin, grilled to about 150 degrees F inside, and a couple of ears of sweet ripe yellow corn roasted to death in the oven.
After dozing on the sofa while watching Clemson beat Florida State in football, I capped things off by smoking the third cigar while doing a midnight bike ride covering five or six miles looping around the south end of the island and stopping to look at the lighthouse and stare at the beach for a few minutes, contemplating what is quickly becoming a half century residing on our lovely planet.
I don't think of myself as old yet...just "experienced."
In my first forty-eight years I've done some stuff that most people have never accomplished, some of which people usually try not to do.
For instance, have you ever:
Survived plugging a bobby pin into an electric outlet?
Won third place in the Soap Box Derby?
Built a balsa wood gasoline powered model airplane from scratch that flew away out of sight?
Played a trumpet solo, standing in the middle of a football field, in front of six thousand people?
Walked outside in the eye of a hurricane to use a chain saw to cut the trees off your parent's house and cars?
Took off and landed in a helicopter on an aircraft carrier? Flown a helicopter with an instructor pilot?
Helped dig bus passenger victims out of the mud from a landslide in the Philippines?
Been to Alaska?
Received a ticket for driving 110 MPH in a 55 MPH zone?
Had a shotgun pumped in your back and the barrel of a pistol broken off on your head in a robbery?
Took off and landed solo in an airplane? At more than one airport?
Driven a power boat 20 miles off shore, out of sight of land, and returned to the marina on time and without having to call the Coast Guard or appear on CNN?
Built over 400 industrial smoke stacks, and the process climbed a ladder 200' tall; or been lifted by a crane 250' into the air in a metal basket?
Designed and built your own house?
Attended a bowl game where your college football team won the NCAA Division I national championship?
Made a million dollars?
Lost a million and one half dollars?
Seen the smile on the face of a new homeowner when they get the keys for their new Habitat for Humanity house?
Survived having your house burn down?
Lived on the beach on the Gulf of Mexico?
Water skied in Montego Bay Jamaica?
Lived on a boat?
Lived on a Barrier Island?
Drank a beer with Travis Tritt?
Played the part of an insane guy in a mental institute? Or designed and built the set for a play?
Played harmonica on stage with Blues guitarist Theodis Ealy?
Written a Blog?
No?
Well, get busy then.
I've got to go now and try to think up some more stuff to do over the next 48 years...
UPDATED...
I almost forgot to mention these antics:
Taking off and landing from the water in a 1948 Grumman "Goose" seaplane on my way from Ft. Lauderdale to Walker's Cay Bahamas.
Scuba diving to the bottom 120' below the surface of the sea on the same trip.
Scuba diving with over 100 sharks (bulls, black tips, Nurse, Caribbean reef) and a bunch of other stuff with teeth on two different one hour dives on the same trip in 1997.
Sunday, September 02, 2007
Dogs More Important Than Late Term Fetuses?
Michael Vick Found Out The Hard Way...
Take a look at this story titled "Vick Case Highlights Dog's High US Status":
DALLAS (Reuters) - Dogfighting is condemned as illegal in all 50 states, and this probably says as much about the dog's high standing in U.S. culture as it does about the cruelty of the blood sport.
It came under the spotlight after football star Michael Vick of the Atlanta Falcons pleaded guilty in Virginia last week for his involvement in a dogfighting case that will almost certainly land him in jail.
This high standing for dogs in the United States is not shared by all cultures, notably some Asian countries where dogs are food, and much of Africa, South Asia and the Arab world where they are often viewed with disdain.
"Dogs have a very special place in American culture," said Wayne Pacelle, president of The Humane Society of the United States.
Does anyone else but me wonder if Vick had been a licenced MD instead of a professional football player, and he had daily reached inside a woman's womb to punch a hole into a six month old developing fetus' head, and then vacuumed its remains out into a stainless steel tank; what these same Americans would have had to say about his criminal status, his ethics, and his humanity (or the lack thereof)?
I'd say he'd not only still have his job, but he'd probably be out shopping for a new car or possibly a 50' powerboat over the Labor Day weekend, instead of skulking away in seclusion somewhere offshore awaiting sentencing and avoiding the prying lenses of news reporters.
Maybe it's just me...(and no, I don't agree that he should not have been convicted for dogfighting.)
Take a look at this story titled "Vick Case Highlights Dog's High US Status":
DALLAS (Reuters) - Dogfighting is condemned as illegal in all 50 states, and this probably says as much about the dog's high standing in U.S. culture as it does about the cruelty of the blood sport.
It came under the spotlight after football star Michael Vick of the Atlanta Falcons pleaded guilty in Virginia last week for his involvement in a dogfighting case that will almost certainly land him in jail.
This high standing for dogs in the United States is not shared by all cultures, notably some Asian countries where dogs are food, and much of Africa, South Asia and the Arab world where they are often viewed with disdain.
"Dogs have a very special place in American culture," said Wayne Pacelle, president of The Humane Society of the United States.
Does anyone else but me wonder if Vick had been a licenced MD instead of a professional football player, and he had daily reached inside a woman's womb to punch a hole into a six month old developing fetus' head, and then vacuumed its remains out into a stainless steel tank; what these same Americans would have had to say about his criminal status, his ethics, and his humanity (or the lack thereof)?
I'd say he'd not only still have his job, but he'd probably be out shopping for a new car or possibly a 50' powerboat over the Labor Day weekend, instead of skulking away in seclusion somewhere offshore awaiting sentencing and avoiding the prying lenses of news reporters.
Maybe it's just me...(and no, I don't agree that he should not have been convicted for dogfighting.)
Monsoon Season On The Georgia Coast
Anybody Have A Human Sized Zip Lock Baggie?
Well, it started raining about 5 PM on Friday, and has only let up for a few hours at a time since then.
I worked my butt off from noon till about about 4 PM putting the finishing touches on the big pyramid sections, and then breaking them down to load into the equipment trailer. My heart was sinking as the sky's turned darker and darker
Kickoff was supposed to be at 7:30, but by then there was at least two inches of water standing over half of every grass and concrete surface in south Georgia.
Theprofessional jock wannabe's "officials" that were in charge of the proceedings held off until it quit lightening, which was about 8:15, then the two football teams took the field while the band members sat in their buses and my pyramid lounged in its bungee corded position in the trailer.
Meanwhile I paced around from water puddle to water puddle in a throw away poncho wearing wet shoes and socks, and come halftime the band was on the field and my masterpiece was relegated to stay out of sight for the evening.
Dang it...the next three games are away games and I really don't want to start traveling with the team, but I also need to be there the first time to show the other volunteers how to handle the assembly and dis-assembly.
Meanwhile, the rest of the labor day weekend has thus far been cloudy and soggy--I bet we've had four or five inches of rain since Friday, and the pool and the beach has been out of the question.
The only good news thus far has been, confined indoors, that I've cooked some killer food, including a funky Portabello/Shitaki mushroom pesto pizza last night that ROCKED.
In fact, I think that it's time to go reheat some pizza slices for a leftover lunch...
Well, it started raining about 5 PM on Friday, and has only let up for a few hours at a time since then.
I worked my butt off from noon till about about 4 PM putting the finishing touches on the big pyramid sections, and then breaking them down to load into the equipment trailer. My heart was sinking as the sky's turned darker and darker
Kickoff was supposed to be at 7:30, but by then there was at least two inches of water standing over half of every grass and concrete surface in south Georgia.
The
Meanwhile I paced around from water puddle to water puddle in a throw away poncho wearing wet shoes and socks, and come halftime the band was on the field and my masterpiece was relegated to stay out of sight for the evening.
Dang it...the next three games are away games and I really don't want to start traveling with the team, but I also need to be there the first time to show the other volunteers how to handle the assembly and dis-assembly.
Meanwhile, the rest of the labor day weekend has thus far been cloudy and soggy--I bet we've had four or five inches of rain since Friday, and the pool and the beach has been out of the question.
The only good news thus far has been, confined indoors, that I've cooked some killer food, including a funky Portabello/Shitaki mushroom pesto pizza last night that ROCKED.
In fact, I think that it's time to go reheat some pizza slices for a leftover lunch...
Friday, August 31, 2007
Home Again
Up Early...Tired...And Quite Busy
Besides avoiding tapping my toes in restroom stalls, now I have to worry about helping getting nearly 100 kids and a giant pyramid onto the football field at half-time of the football game about 8:45 PM tonight.
It makes me tired just thinking about it...
Besides avoiding tapping my toes in restroom stalls, now I have to worry about helping getting nearly 100 kids and a giant pyramid onto the football field at half-time of the football game about 8:45 PM tonight.
It makes me tired just thinking about it...
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
Guns For Everyone...And Put Them On My Tab...
More Political Incorrectness
I've enjoyed reading the local edition of the AtlantaUrinal & Constipation Journal & Constitution for the past two days, and it's been amazing the amount of vitriol aimed at Michael Vick and his recent public statement(s).
All of the city's mindless boosters and pro-sports fans that declared Vick the end-all do-all handy-dandy panacea solution of the woes of the only team besides the Braves that spent zillions of dollars on salary for grown men to play boys games are continuing to bitch and complain and choke on their predictions of greatness and a football dynasty developing down at the Georgia Dome.
Another AJC article that caught my eye was this one about gun ownership here in the US compared to the rest of the world (click):
United States the world leader in gun ownership
ASSOCIATED PRESS
Published on: 08/29/07
There are nine guns for every 10 people in the United States, with about 270 million firearms in circulation, according to a report released Tuesday.
People well-armed: Worldwide, civilians now have access to 650 million small arms — from handguns to semiautomatic rifles — an arsenal that far outstrips what is held by police and militaries, according to the annual Small Arms Survey. It estimates that civilians account for about three-fourths of the 875 million such weapons in circulation.
U.S. the leader: The United States has the heaviest concentration of firearms. Of the 8 million new firearms manufactured annually around the world, roughly 4.5 million are bought in the United States.
Other countries with high per capita ownership include Yemen, with 61 small arms per 100 people; Finland with 56; Switzerland with 46; and Iraq with 39.
Much lower on the scale are Brazil, with nine guns per 100 people, England and Wales with six, India with four, China with three and Nigeria with one.
Of course the Associated press breathlessly reports these statistics like they are a bad thing in the headline, but then goes on to say that the level of gun ownership might not actually be the cause of crime when the true details are analysed.
I Agree totally, and having had the barrel of a crappy medium caliber revolver broken off its frame on the back of my hard head nearly thirty years ago in a robbery, I subscribe to the idea that anything can be a deadly weapon in the hands of someone that wants to hurt or kill you.
You can be killed with a salt shaker poked into your eye or other bodily orifice, and you can succumb to a pool cue or bar stool driven across your shoulder blades.
So why don't we ban salt shakers, pool cues, and bar stools along with guns?
After all, I bet the number of bar stools in Europe approaches that of the US on a per capita basis.
You can also drown in a Cool Whip bowl full of water if someone holds your face in it long enough--let's outlaw Cool Whip and water while we're at it..
All I can say is that the anti-gun weenies need to just shut the hell up and go home and eat some Tofu and recharge their stun guns and cans of mace and watch another evening of PBS TV programming.
By the way, I'm afraid that I'm guilty of skewing the statistics upward in a significant way, because if you come down to one of the places which I occasionally occupy here in the SOUTHERN UNITED STATES, you will find the gun to owner ratio to be more like SIX guns per person...
...and that "one person" would be ME.
Now put that in your pipe and smoke it.
I've enjoyed reading the local edition of the Atlanta
All of the city's mindless boosters and pro-sports fans that declared Vick the end-all do-all handy-dandy panacea solution of the woes of the only team besides the Braves that spent zillions of dollars on salary for grown men to play boys games are continuing to bitch and complain and choke on their predictions of greatness and a football dynasty developing down at the Georgia Dome.
Another AJC article that caught my eye was this one about gun ownership here in the US compared to the rest of the world (click):
United States the world leader in gun ownership
ASSOCIATED PRESS
Published on: 08/29/07
There are nine guns for every 10 people in the United States, with about 270 million firearms in circulation, according to a report released Tuesday.
People well-armed: Worldwide, civilians now have access to 650 million small arms — from handguns to semiautomatic rifles — an arsenal that far outstrips what is held by police and militaries, according to the annual Small Arms Survey. It estimates that civilians account for about three-fourths of the 875 million such weapons in circulation.
U.S. the leader: The United States has the heaviest concentration of firearms. Of the 8 million new firearms manufactured annually around the world, roughly 4.5 million are bought in the United States.
Other countries with high per capita ownership include Yemen, with 61 small arms per 100 people; Finland with 56; Switzerland with 46; and Iraq with 39.
Much lower on the scale are Brazil, with nine guns per 100 people, England and Wales with six, India with four, China with three and Nigeria with one.
Of course the Associated press breathlessly reports these statistics like they are a bad thing in the headline, but then goes on to say that the level of gun ownership might not actually be the cause of crime when the true details are analysed.
I Agree totally, and having had the barrel of a crappy medium caliber revolver broken off its frame on the back of my hard head nearly thirty years ago in a robbery, I subscribe to the idea that anything can be a deadly weapon in the hands of someone that wants to hurt or kill you.
You can be killed with a salt shaker poked into your eye or other bodily orifice, and you can succumb to a pool cue or bar stool driven across your shoulder blades.
So why don't we ban salt shakers, pool cues, and bar stools along with guns?
After all, I bet the number of bar stools in Europe approaches that of the US on a per capita basis.
You can also drown in a Cool Whip bowl full of water if someone holds your face in it long enough--let's outlaw Cool Whip and water while we're at it..
All I can say is that the anti-gun weenies need to just shut the hell up and go home and eat some Tofu and recharge their stun guns and cans of mace and watch another evening of PBS TV programming.
By the way, I'm afraid that I'm guilty of skewing the statistics upward in a significant way, because if you come down to one of the places which I occasionally occupy here in the SOUTHERN UNITED STATES, you will find the gun to owner ratio to be more like SIX guns per person...
...and that "one person" would be ME.
Now put that in your pipe and smoke it.
The Main Difference Between Georgia and Rhode Island
May I Have A Drum Roll Please?
The answer to my question (In my considered Redneck Opinion):
"They still sell Guns in our Georgia Wal Marts. (click)"
AP
FBI Investigating Threats to U.S. Stores
Wednesday August 29, 3:24 pm ET
By Eric Tucker, Associated Press Writer
Bomb Threat to RI Wal-Mart Leads to Evacuation, Money Transfer; FBI Says May Be Broader Scam
NEWPORT, R.I. (AP) -- A bomb threat that caused the evacuation of a Wal-Mart and led employees to wire $10,000 to the caller appears to be part of a broader scam targeting other businesses around the country, authorities said.
...Damn Limp Wristed Yankies
.
The answer to my question (In my considered Redneck Opinion):
"They still sell Guns in our Georgia Wal Marts. (click)"
AP
FBI Investigating Threats to U.S. Stores
Wednesday August 29, 3:24 pm ET
By Eric Tucker, Associated Press Writer
Bomb Threat to RI Wal-Mart Leads to Evacuation, Money Transfer; FBI Says May Be Broader Scam
NEWPORT, R.I. (AP) -- A bomb threat that caused the evacuation of a Wal-Mart and led employees to wire $10,000 to the caller appears to be part of a broader scam targeting other businesses around the country, authorities said.
...Damn Limp Wristed Yankies
.
Do You Think That (Some) Dog's Aren't Brilliant???
Then Take Mine Onto An Elevator
I've observed an amazing phenomena regarding Missy, the Turbo Pup, and her understanding of modern infrastructure in our last two visits to the Atlanta metro area.
She somehow understands the concept of walking into and out of an elevator, and the differences on each floor once she exits the "magic door" that opens and closes to lock her into the big metal box that moves her and her entourage up and down the building's entrails.
Think about it for a minute, if you will.
I would have expected that to a dog (or any other human or animal that hasn't graduated like Jethro Bodine from the Sixth Grade), one would expect when the door opens and closes that the same things, including people and floor plan, would be outside the opening.
Not so with the turbo pup.
She jumps on the elevator without any apprehension and makes left and right decisions upon her exit from the vertical conveyance better than I do.
Does anyone need an eight pound seeing eye dog?
Well, I'm sorry...but you can't have her.
.
I've observed an amazing phenomena regarding Missy, the Turbo Pup, and her understanding of modern infrastructure in our last two visits to the Atlanta metro area.
She somehow understands the concept of walking into and out of an elevator, and the differences on each floor once she exits the "magic door" that opens and closes to lock her into the big metal box that moves her and her entourage up and down the building's entrails.
Think about it for a minute, if you will.
I would have expected that to a dog (or any other human or animal that hasn't graduated like Jethro Bodine from the Sixth Grade), one would expect when the door opens and closes that the same things, including people and floor plan, would be outside the opening.
Not so with the turbo pup.
She jumps on the elevator without any apprehension and makes left and right decisions upon her exit from the vertical conveyance better than I do.
Does anyone need an eight pound seeing eye dog?
Well, I'm sorry...but you can't have her.
.
They Paved Paradise
And Put In An Interstate...
Well, I've gotten through about 18 hours being back in my adopted home town of Smyrna/Vinings, Georgia without incident, but it took only about thirty minutes to remember why we left here in the first place.
GOOD GOD WHAT AWFUL TRAFFIC.
That, and Interstates like I-285 that have more pavement in a two mile stretch of eight or ten lanes than currently exists on all of St. Simons Island.
The traffic is amazing, and Pat's and my own driving skills have been dulled by the slow pace on our little island to the point where we have no desire to own things like radar detectors and run around eating bagels, reading the newspaper--steering the car with our knees while driving along in a dense pack of cars and semi trucks at 80 MPH.
Everyone else here at least tries to do things like that while we lope along at 54 MPH.
Once you get out of the rat race I guess that it's hard to go back, or to even understand why you were there and put up with two plus hour daily round trip commutes in the first place.
I waste more time on the computer each day than I used to spend driving to work for almost ten years, back before I started my own company and started working from home.
The next best thing I did after that lifestyle improvement was to move our "home" from inside the rat race to our little Island, and I have to admit that I can hardly wait to get back on the road tomorrow morning heading away from this old, vaguely familiar reality...
the daily reality for about four million miserable, mis-informed souls.
Ya'll come see us now...ya hear?
Well, I've gotten through about 18 hours being back in my adopted home town of Smyrna/Vinings, Georgia without incident, but it took only about thirty minutes to remember why we left here in the first place.
GOOD GOD WHAT AWFUL TRAFFIC.
That, and Interstates like I-285 that have more pavement in a two mile stretch of eight or ten lanes than currently exists on all of St. Simons Island.
The traffic is amazing, and Pat's and my own driving skills have been dulled by the slow pace on our little island to the point where we have no desire to own things like radar detectors and run around eating bagels, reading the newspaper--steering the car with our knees while driving along in a dense pack of cars and semi trucks at 80 MPH.
Everyone else here at least tries to do things like that while we lope along at 54 MPH.
Once you get out of the rat race I guess that it's hard to go back, or to even understand why you were there and put up with two plus hour daily round trip commutes in the first place.
I waste more time on the computer each day than I used to spend driving to work for almost ten years, back before I started my own company and started working from home.
The next best thing I did after that lifestyle improvement was to move our "home" from inside the rat race to our little Island, and I have to admit that I can hardly wait to get back on the road tomorrow morning heading away from this old, vaguely familiar reality...
the daily reality for about four million miserable, mis-informed souls.
Ya'll come see us now...ya hear?
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
She Took A Friend Along
The Odd Couple
By the way Mom...we made it to Atlanta so you can stop worrying now.
By the way Mom...we made it to Atlanta so you can stop worrying now.
On The Road Again
Willie Nelson I'm Not...
Well, we're off to Brunswick to finalize the big Pyramid structure, then it's up I-16 and I-75 back to Hotlanta for a couple of days.
Ya'll feel free to entertain yourselves in the mean time...
Well, we're off to Brunswick to finalize the big Pyramid structure, then it's up I-16 and I-75 back to Hotlanta for a couple of days.
Ya'll feel free to entertain yourselves in the mean time...
Monday, August 27, 2007
An Explosion In Atlanta
And I Get To Go Look At The Results...
I've mentioned in the past that I've been working for a while with a friend's engineering firm as a Forensic Engineer, looking into industrial steam system accidents that either damaged equipment or killed/injured people.
At the risk of sounding like a ghoul, I have to admit that it's pretty interesting stuff most of the time, even though there are a bunch of lawyers circling around the area getting in the way and, the people and the firms they work for are tight lipped--afraid that we're going to end up placing the blame with them or their company.
Any way, there was an explosion in the laundry area of one of the big downtown Atlanta hotels last month, and thus far all I've seen is pictures and had phone call discussions about what might have happened.
This Tuesday morning I'm driving up to Atlanta to take a look at the accident scene which has been preserved under OSHA and other government mandate while all of thevultures lawyers and their hired guns nerds expert witnesses look at the details of a pretty spectacular event that I wouldn't want to have been in the same room with when it happened.
Pat and Missy, the Turbo Pup, are going along with me as we take the opportunity to visit with some old friends and eat at a few of our favorite restaurants. This will be only the second trip to Atlanta (if you don't count changing planes in the Atlanta Airport), a place I resided in for 27 years, since we moved down here to our little island back in 2004.
My writing continues to suffer under my consulting work load and the pressures of fine tuning the new house and building my giant pyramid which I now have to deliver complete tomorrow--three days early--in anticipation of being in Atlanta this week.
I hope to be able to return on Wednesday or Thursday in time to be on the sidelines with the kids and mymonstrosity creation for their home opener game, but who knows what opportunities will develop in the mean time.
I'll be sure to say hello to Michael Vick for you all if I see him, because the Federal Courthouse is just down the street from the accident scene...
.
I've mentioned in the past that I've been working for a while with a friend's engineering firm as a Forensic Engineer, looking into industrial steam system accidents that either damaged equipment or killed/injured people.
At the risk of sounding like a ghoul, I have to admit that it's pretty interesting stuff most of the time, even though there are a bunch of lawyers circling around the area getting in the way and, the people and the firms they work for are tight lipped--afraid that we're going to end up placing the blame with them or their company.
Any way, there was an explosion in the laundry area of one of the big downtown Atlanta hotels last month, and thus far all I've seen is pictures and had phone call discussions about what might have happened.
This Tuesday morning I'm driving up to Atlanta to take a look at the accident scene which has been preserved under OSHA and other government mandate while all of the
Pat and Missy, the Turbo Pup, are going along with me as we take the opportunity to visit with some old friends and eat at a few of our favorite restaurants. This will be only the second trip to Atlanta (if you don't count changing planes in the Atlanta Airport), a place I resided in for 27 years, since we moved down here to our little island back in 2004.
My writing continues to suffer under my consulting work load and the pressures of fine tuning the new house and building my giant pyramid which I now have to deliver complete tomorrow--three days early--in anticipation of being in Atlanta this week.
I hope to be able to return on Wednesday or Thursday in time to be on the sidelines with the kids and my
I'll be sure to say hello to Michael Vick for you all if I see him, because the Federal Courthouse is just down the street from the accident scene...
.
