Miscellaneous Stuff…
Just in case you haven’t noticed, there are basically two kinds of blogs out here—“linkers”, and “writers.”
The “linkers” spend most of their time providing lists of URL links to commercial web sites, other blogs, and the internet news sites. Their only personal contribution to the web’s dialogue, besides spending the time to find the linked material, is to provide some sort of occasional brief commentary.
University of Tennessee legal professor Glenn Reynolds’ Instapundit blog site obviously comes to mind when you think of a famous linker.
Then there is Michael Drudge’s Drudge Report which became famous back in the late 1990’s for breaking the story about the Philanderer-In Chief President Bill Clinton’s affair with Monica Lewinski. That news scoop aside, Matt is still obviously a “linker” rather than an actual blog writer, in spite of his fame and high level insider connections to breaking news. I guess that you could say that he is also a pseudo news reporter.
My fellow blogger Steve down at Hog On Ice continuously raves about how you can get 75% of Drudge’s stuff off of Orlando’s Local6 news website.
I agree.
You’ve seen many zany and weird news stories from Local6 mentioned here on this blog in the past. I like to take a link to a 100 word story from their site and produce a 2000 word dissertation on human nature or the other underlying issues found therein.
Then there are the actual blog “writers.”
People like the three lawyers that write at Powerline, Captain Ed’s Captains Quarters, and Blog divas Michelle Malkin and Ann Coulter lead the pack here in my mind.
I like to consider myself in this same category, although I admit that I’m not successful all of the time. Sometimes it can be hard work, and it takes a good deal of time to produce some of the screeds that I’ve written over the past year and one-half.
I'd also like to think that I’m getting better all of the time—practice making perfect and all that.
For instance, yesterday’s diatribe (Calling A Spade A Spade) on the hysteria surrounding politically correct speech took about three hours to write and edit. I know that it was a bit long, but I was inspired with something important to say at the time and it just ended up taking a few extra written words to get it all down on paper (or actually, the electronic ether of the internet.)
My girlfriend Patricia usually takes a peek at my writing each morning before she starts work in order to determine my mood for the day and see what is on my mind. She said that she could only read about half of yesterday’s posting because it was so long. I know that the quality of my words doesn’t always balance out the quantity of my writing, but as the old saying goes…”a man’s got to do what a man’s got to do…”
I don’t have to do this (write a blog) but I do it anyway, and I realize that you can feel free to hit the “back” button on your browser at any time. I'll expend the effort and take that risk regardless.
In the interest of testing my ability as a "linker" rather than a "writer," I feel like taking a break this evening from poking and prodding the mainstream media and their darling liberals. Instead of producing further serious writing or ranting this morning, I think that I'll enjoy the luxury of just pointing out some of MY links that are in the favorites section on our computers.
A lot of casual internet surfers rely only on the big sites like Google News, Yahoo News, The NY Times, and The LA Times for their information sources.
If you pay close attention to the reporting, all of the news contained on these consumer oriented sites is basically the same. It’s just shuffled around into a different order—but it’s still all Reuters and Associated Press based crappola packaged for the informal news reader that can only spend a few minutes each day trying to absorb what is going on in the world.
If that is all YOU do yourself, along with reading your local newspaper, as I’ve said before, you are seriously misinformed.
That said, here is a list of some other websites that we find indispensable in our household:
If you travel by airliner, check out the FAA’s Air Traffic Control Command Center Site to see any potential arrival and departure delays that might affect your day moving between the airports around the country.
Coincidentally, my US Senator, Saxby Chambliss and I finally got the FAA to list our local airport on this site last year. I kept bitching for about nine months directly to the FAA with no response, then Senator Chambliss’ office jumped in at my request and three months later there was a little green dot on the Southeastern US Sector Map showing the Brunswick Golden Isles Airport.
Hurray for me…who says that you can’t fight city hall—OR the FAA?
Next comes the subject of Weather.
Remember that I’ve mentioned that I’m a real weather nerd?
I use The Weather Channel like a TV “screensaver” when the weather is bad and hurricanes are blowing around during the summer and fall months. I used to use their web site, Weather.com, regularly, but in recent years I’ve discovered the NOAA Website and also find the Weather underground much more useful.
For a little broader weather picture, try out the Space Weather site that will tell you what is going on with the sun, moon, planets, and meteor showers each month. If you live in the northern latitudes where you can actually see the Auroras in the winter, they can tell you when it is worth your time to bundle up and run outside to look.
Want to know the Jetstream position or the rise and set times for the Sun and Moon?
Take a look, they are both good sites. I use the US Naval Observatory site all of the time in my photography work to predict when to be standing outside looking east or west with my camera in my hand.
Worrying about when that next volcanic explosion is going to take place in your back yard or on the tropical island you’re going to visit this summer? Check out Australian Scientist John Seach’s site called Volcano Live.com. The interesting thing that I have learned from this site is that there are a couple of volcanoes erupting every minute of every hour of every single day of the year somewhere in the world.
Where is the lamestream media on this little factoid. Let Mount St. Helens issue a belch or fart and you’ve got headlines in 60 point type on every American newspaper for a week.
Oops, there I go again—breaking my promise to myself to give the so-called professional “newspeople” a break tonight. I guest that I’m starting to get tired and cranky.
I think that I'll be signing off now…
Have yourself a good morning.
Thursday, January 19, 2006
Tuesday, January 17, 2006
Bush Gets Serious With Iran
In Honor of Today's Theme...
In all fareness--I found a crappy version (oops sorry, a much SIMPLER version) of this image HERE on the web and I made substantial modifications of my own.
I think that mine's much better...what do you think?
(I love Adobe Photoshop)
Popeye Turns 77
I Found This All By Myself...I'm Getting Good With Trivia...
I was screwing around after writing that last posting about being “Confused”, and in the process I started looking for a better image of the character “Bluto” featured in the old King Features cartoon “Popeye.”
What I found out in the process is that my old friend and childhood idol, “Popeye the Sailor Man” celebrates his 77th birthday today.
Talk about a coincidence...
Here’s a little history:
He's short, balding, ornery and downright ugly by anyone's standards. But countless numbers of fans have grown up admiring and identifying with this unpretentious hero since his introduction to the public in 1929. Celebrating his 75th Anniversary in 2004, "Popeye" remains one of the most widely recognized and best-loved personalities ever.
Popeye is an underdog with a long fuse and a keen sense of fair play. Everyone identifies with him when he finally says, "Tha's all I can stands, and I can't stands no more!" And it seems only fitting that our most unlikely hero would fall for the least likely of sex symbols: Olive Oyl. Flat as a board, with a pickle-shaped nose and fickle heart to match, Popeye's "goil" puts him through his paces. Her only real competition is spinach.
Popeye made his first public appearance Jan. 17, 1929, in Elzie Segar's then 10-year-old comic strip, "Thimble Theatre," which originally revolved around Olive Oyl's family. Although he was introduced as a minor walk-on character, Popeye quickly "muskled" his way into the limelight and eclipsed the older characters to become the star of "Thimble Theatre."
With Popeye came a host of new, off-beat funny folks such as Swee'Pea, the "infink" Popeye adopted; J. Wellington Wimpy, the world's most hamburger-obsessed moocher; and Bluto, the hairy "heavy" with the glass jaw.
As a little munchkin in the 1960’s, Popeye was one of my favorite cartoons, before I graduated to “The Three Stooges” and the antics of Wyle E. Coyote and Bugs Bunny.
Remember when TV was dominated on Saturday morning with cartoons rather than stupid infomercials, "talking head" political shows, and the other crap that we're bombarded with today ?
Thank God for the Discover Channel, Food Network, The History Channel, and FOX News...else I'd lose my mind daily.
I really have a problem with most of the wierd, politicly correct shit that they are broadcasting to kids today. Alternative lifestyles are fine--but class, race, and gender stereotypes are out.
Tinky winky and Sponge Bob can take their purple/pink costumes and "square pants" and just wander on down to Cuba or somewhere where they can use them. Actually, Castro would probably have the whole gang of writers and producers in jail if he could get his crusty hands on them.
Anyway, I'm farrrrrr off topic here...
Like I started out to do--I'd like to offer a hearty HAPPY BIRTHDAY to POPEYE.
Hopefully Olive Oyl baked a nice cake...
Monday, January 16, 2006
I’m Confused…
Couldn’t They Just Drive A Car Over To Disney?
There I was, sitting here minding my own business, catching up with the news and some of my favorite blogs, when I came across this news story:
Cape Canaveral, Fl.--An unmanned NASA spacecraft the size of a piano is set to lift off Tuesday on a nine-year journey to Pluto…
What?
They're going to the time and expense of
sending a rocket loaded up with one of these
out flying around outer space to look for this little fellow (the Disney Dog Pluto):
Oh, never mind...it doesn't really matter.
I guess that I’m just a little tired this evening...
There I was, sitting here minding my own business, catching up with the news and some of my favorite blogs, when I came across this news story:
Cape Canaveral, Fl.--An unmanned NASA spacecraft the size of a piano is set to lift off Tuesday on a nine-year journey to Pluto…
What?
They're going to the time and expense of
sending a rocket loaded up with one of these
out flying around outer space to look for this little fellow (the Disney Dog Pluto):
Maybe they mean this guy..."Bluto" from the Popeye cartoon series:
Or even this guy, John Belushi's character Bluto
from the movie "Animal House":
Oops...wait a darned minute here...I get it, they're talking about this place (the Planet PLUTO):
Oh, never mind...it doesn't really matter.
I guess that I’m just a little tired this evening...
Monday Morning
Somebody, Please, Do Something Stupid So That I can Write About It...
My brain is surprisingly quiet this morning.
It's a rare event when I don't have something to say. People that know me personally understand that as a fact.
I'm so addicted to this blogging thing that I almost go into withdrawal if I don't write at least a couple thousand words every day. Most of the time it just comes spontaniously blasting off of my fingertips onto the keyboard, but other days nothing piques my interest enought to do a good rant.
As a minimum I need to cruise around the Web to see what my fellow bloggers are up to.
For instance, I've had some hilarious conversations via comments for the past week over at Miami blogger Steve's place at Hog On Ice. Steve's been doing a little workbench construction at his house, and all of us "experts" have been attempting to help him address the details.
Steve gets about a zillion hits a day, and when he mentioned me with a link last week my traffic here when up about 500%. (Thanks to Steve and Steve's readers that bothered to stop by.)
Meanwhile, in the political world, I really didn't have the energy to say much about the Alito confirmation hearings, other than verbally poking Ted Kennedy with a pointy stick and making fun of him a little. Just putting a picture of old Teddy's face here on the blog spoke, as the old saying goes, at least a thousand words.
I guess the only thing else worth mentioning on the world stage is my frustration with the "peacenicks" here, abroad, and at the UN that continue to want to negotiate with people that are either inately EVIL, insane, or some combination of both.
I'm too old and weak to join the military again so that I can personally help do something about our national security, so I just try to live somewhere other than in the big citys and almost all of my immediate family happens to have the same situations.
They (the bad guys--Korea, Iran, Syria, et.al.) aren't going away just because we choose to ignore them or have tea parties with them and the UN, and I'm sure that like on 9/11, these terrorists aren't going to waste their energy and opportunity killing a couple of people living out in the sticks (I hope.) I'm going to continue to be a hermit and stay away from things like Manhattin and college football stadiums and the Olympics and hope that I can keep my own ass as a small a target as possible.
Speaking of my own girth, I'm recovering nicely from my brush with death last August, and a nice bonus of a good mortal illness has been a much needed loss of weight. I've never had problems with my weight until the past couple of years since I had to stop water skiing and started sitting around on my ever widening posterior all of the time. I'm happy to be back within 10 pounds or so of my old fighting weight.
I'll keep looking around the news this morning and see if I can find something to bitch about...I'm almost certain something will pop up if I look hard enough.
Meanwhile, y'all have a lovely day...
My brain is surprisingly quiet this morning.
It's a rare event when I don't have something to say. People that know me personally understand that as a fact.
I'm so addicted to this blogging thing that I almost go into withdrawal if I don't write at least a couple thousand words every day. Most of the time it just comes spontaniously blasting off of my fingertips onto the keyboard, but other days nothing piques my interest enought to do a good rant.
As a minimum I need to cruise around the Web to see what my fellow bloggers are up to.
For instance, I've had some hilarious conversations via comments for the past week over at Miami blogger Steve's place at Hog On Ice. Steve's been doing a little workbench construction at his house, and all of us "experts" have been attempting to help him address the details.
Steve gets about a zillion hits a day, and when he mentioned me with a link last week my traffic here when up about 500%. (Thanks to Steve and Steve's readers that bothered to stop by.)
Meanwhile, in the political world, I really didn't have the energy to say much about the Alito confirmation hearings, other than verbally poking Ted Kennedy with a pointy stick and making fun of him a little. Just putting a picture of old Teddy's face here on the blog spoke, as the old saying goes, at least a thousand words.
I guess the only thing else worth mentioning on the world stage is my frustration with the "peacenicks" here, abroad, and at the UN that continue to want to negotiate with people that are either inately EVIL, insane, or some combination of both.
I'm too old and weak to join the military again so that I can personally help do something about our national security, so I just try to live somewhere other than in the big citys and almost all of my immediate family happens to have the same situations.
They (the bad guys--Korea, Iran, Syria, et.al.) aren't going away just because we choose to ignore them or have tea parties with them and the UN, and I'm sure that like on 9/11, these terrorists aren't going to waste their energy and opportunity killing a couple of people living out in the sticks (I hope.) I'm going to continue to be a hermit and stay away from things like Manhattin and college football stadiums and the Olympics and hope that I can keep my own ass as a small a target as possible.
Speaking of my own girth, I'm recovering nicely from my brush with death last August, and a nice bonus of a good mortal illness has been a much needed loss of weight. I've never had problems with my weight until the past couple of years since I had to stop water skiing and started sitting around on my ever widening posterior all of the time. I'm happy to be back within 10 pounds or so of my old fighting weight.
I'll keep looking around the news this morning and see if I can find something to bitch about...I'm almost certain something will pop up if I look hard enough.
Meanwhile, y'all have a lovely day...
Sunday, January 15, 2006
"Bush Urges UN Action Against Iran”
Yeah, and why doesn't Bush put in a call to his local PTA while we're at it?
"It's logical that a country which has rejected diplomatic entreaties be sent to the United Nations Security Council," Mr. Bush said during a joint press conference with German Chancellor Angela Merkel.
Just in case you have been too busy raising your kids or working your ass off at your job or otherwise just haven’t been paying attention, let me point out some aggravating little details here that can put this story into perspective.
First of all, Iran needs nuclear energy like I need my own personal aircraft carrier.
Iran with a Nuclear Reactor makes as much sense as allowing me to buy NY City's Holland Tunnel so I can turn it into my own personal condominium.
Hey....I can certainly use the extra space.
Why do I say this?
Because, from what I’ve read and seen, it’s virtually impossible to dig a 2 foot deep hole into the ground in Iran to put in a fence post or plant a shrub without having oil come pouring out of the ground while you are digging.
People in Iran could eat Peanut Butter and Crude oil sandwiches and do their own free oil changes every day of every week of every year on their car engines in their home driveways (if they didn’t all drive camels) and not put a dent in Iran's oil supply.
So what is the bottom line here?
Oil in Iran is cheep, and it is EVERYWHERE.
Yet this stupid asshole...
My head has reached what I call “orbital rotational velocity” and as a result I’m combining TWO serious issues into one single Blog rant this morning.
Grab yourself a cup of coffee (or tea or a beer or your own other beverage of choice,) sit down, and let me tell you what is bothering me.
I copied the title of this posting from the headline attached to this Washington Times article:
President Bush yesterday urged that Iran be hauled before the U.N. Security Council for pursuing nuclear weapons, a move that Tehran said would end its cooperation with U.N. inspectors.
"It's logical that a country which has rejected diplomatic entreaties be sent to the United Nations Security Council," Mr. Bush said during a joint press conference with German Chancellor Angela Merkel.
Just in case you have been too busy raising your kids or working your ass off at your job or otherwise just haven’t been paying attention, let me point out some aggravating little details here that can put this story into perspective.
First of all, Iran needs nuclear energy like I need my own personal aircraft carrier.
Iran with a Nuclear Reactor makes as much sense as allowing me to buy NY City's Holland Tunnel so I can turn it into my own personal condominium.
Hey....I can certainly use the extra space.
Why do I say this?
Because, from what I’ve read and seen, it’s virtually impossible to dig a 2 foot deep hole into the ground in Iran to put in a fence post or plant a shrub without having oil come pouring out of the ground while you are digging.
People in Iran could eat Peanut Butter and Crude oil sandwiches and do their own free oil changes every day of every week of every year on their car engines in their home driveways (if they didn’t all drive camels) and not put a dent in Iran's oil supply.
So what is the bottom line here?
Oil in Iran is cheep, and it is EVERYWHERE.
Yet this stupid asshole...
Mahmood Ahmadinejad, the new terrorist leader President of Iran, has the audacity to continue to claim that his country only wants nuclear technology in order to make electricity for their few citizens that have wires attached to their huts and aren’t forced to spend three quarters of the day on their knees on a prayer mat hoping that Allah will put them out of their misery.
Even if Iran managed to build a reactor, these bigoted bastards would still prevent their women from using electric light to clean their kitchens and see after dark in their huts or tents while hand weaving their hijabs (head scarfs.)
Let's get this straight people:
IRAN DOES NOT NEED NUCLEAR ENERGY TO CONDUCT NORMAL DAILY BUSINESS.
Heck, I bet that gasoline in Iran today costs...what?...a whole fifty cents a gallon?
If you honestly believe that Iran wants to continue their nuclear program for any reason other than obtaining materials for an atomic bomb, then you are a total IDIOT.
Taking...
A...
Big...
Breath...
NEXT........
Look at this map, please...
Canada 0.170
Saudi Arabia 0.145
Mexico 0.130
Venezuela 0.110
Nigeria 0.070
Iraq 0.040
UK 0.036
Angola 0.030
Algeria 0.030
Russia 0.020
Kuwait 0.017
Columbia 0.015
Ecuador 0.010
Gabon 0.010
Total Imports 0.853
What do you see?
Let me help you out a little...
First, we import 85.3% of our oil here in the United States.
That's a problem...BUT
Look at how much crude oil actually comes from (gasp) Saudi Arabia.
See that number?
Only 14.5 percent.
And from Iraq?
FOUR percent?
OH MY GOSH....STOP THE PRESSES.
Didn't the media and all of our lovely concerned liberals say that we invaded Iraq because we wanted their oil, and didn't the media and these same concerned anti-war, Honda Prius driving liberals say that our energy problems all come about because of our dependence on Saudi oil?
No?
Yes?
Look at that map again, and notice that we import 17% of our oil from Canada (somewhere near Alaska's ANWAR reserves) and 13% from Mexico.
THIRTY PERCENT OF OUR OIL COMES FROM OUR NORTH AMERICAN NEIGHBORS...THIS NUMBER RISES UP TO FIFTY PERCENT IF YOU COUNT OUR DOMESTIC PRODUCTION.
(My Update 1/17/06) While Re-reading my own writing... it occurs to me that if the United States of By God America wanted to invade a country...or two.. in the interest of oil, why screw around with a bunch of swarthy, godless islamist jihadists 6000 miles away. Why doesn't President Bush just avoid the aircraft carrier and C-17 transport route, call all of our troops home, and take over Mexico and Canada?
Think about it for a minute. In addition to gaining lots of oil, we'd gain access to all of the construction workers, fruit pickers, and landscapers we could possibly use over the next hundred years, thereby also solving the illegal immigration crisis and the border situation. We'd also get access to some killer Hockey players, but on the down side we'd all have to start saying "eh" and figure out what the hell a "tuque" is.
It seems to me that IF we could double our own domestic oil production by doing a little drilling off the shores of California and Florida (Alabama, Louisiana, and Texas already allow it) and bore a few productive holes in the tundra of Alaska's ANWAR, we could easily tell the bastards running OPEC to kiss it...
And I'd also tell the Israeli's that they have our permission to put Iran back on an oil based electrial program
....BOMBS AWAY
Saturday, January 14, 2006
Home Cooking
It’s Not Impossible, But It Does Take Some Practice…
For those of my readers that haven’t been hanging around this Blog for any length of time, I’m going to take this opportunity to mention that, besides being an engineer (and architect and artist and writer and scholar and musician and lover and history buff and all around self-proclaimed good guy), I also really love to cook.
So much so, I have started writing a separate cooking blog called The Redneck Gourmet to document my cooking adventures,
Go check it out when you have the time, if you will.
I think that I am getting pretty good at it (succumbing to yet another a brief moment of self edification here)…cooking, that is. The writing about cooking part of my resume probably still needs some work yet.
It hasn’t always been that way with regard to my interest in cooking, however, but smack dab in the middle of my life, after I got divorced in my mid thirties, I decided to seriously learn how to work my way around something besides the Barbeque grill—an avocation that many, if not most, men are afraid to do. As a result, I started hanging out in the kitchen doing something besides eating peanut butter sandwiches off of a paper towel while leaning over the sink.
I’ve actually managed to competently take over the kitchen in my domicile. My girlfriend Pat doesn’t seem to mind, however.
To my surprise, I figured out that cooking is really just simple chemistry like I learned at Georgia Tech—surrounded by some fancy candles, stainless pots and pans, a few pieces of china or stoneware, and perhaps some vases full of flowers if you want to demonstrate a little flare.
The cool thing about the chemistry of cooking is that it is so forgiving (within certain limits) and unlike titrating an acid/base solution or worrying about how many “moles” of sodium you have in your Pyrex glass beaker, with cooking you can use your eyeballs and taste buds as your litmus paper and you do most of your work without wearing safety glasses.
At least that is the way MY cooking goes…there might be a few people out there that have a different experience and opinion on this topic.
Regarding cooking safety, I still do have a tendency to want to cook half naked—from the waist up that is, and in the process I’ve learned first hand an intimate knowledge of how to control the temperature of a skillet in order to prevent spattering my belly and chest with hot grease while frying bacon in the morning.
Don’t worry, when I have guests in the house I elect to wear a shirt to cover my hairy chest and possibly a baseball cap to cover my ever balding head.
“Hairless” food is always a good motto, and my lovely Mother just made me a nice apron as a Christmas gift this year so that I wouldn’t spoil my shirts and pants if and when I happen to allow a sauce to get too hot or commit some other culinary “boo-boo” while preparing my guests’ dinner.
Actually, I’ve found that you can meet some really interesting people when you know how to cook. Many people are eager to interact with you and help you as you hone and develop your cooking skills.
I try not to eat crappy junk foods in my middle age, so cooking definitely helps my dietary issues. No chips, no Twinkies, no candy (OK, ok maybe some Godiva chocolate), and few cookies. I prefer instead to torture myself cooking more wholesome foods in theory, from scratch, but still I elect to use bacon grease and gobs of real butter in my concoctions.
You know what?
In the end , when everything is said and done, I will still be dead Dead DEAD like the next Vegan that sits around eating Tofu and soy burgers all day, so why deny myself of the most important ingredient in food...
Flavor!
I’ve also learned that you can live without a microwave oven—the solution being something called aluminum foil, a 250 degree oven, and a bit of patience. I’d rather reserve the counter space in our small condo kitchen for other uses than having a big white plastic box sitting around doing nothing 23-3/4 hours each day. Fast cooking is great, but we can’t afford the real estate right now (I do have a double oven though…)
Any whoooooooo…
What started this rambling was when I was limping around the Internet this evening and looked up a recipe for Pimento and Cheese.
Here are the recommended ingredients to make your own:
16 oz. pkg. Kraft Deluxe American Cheese (grated)
4 oz. jar pimento
2 eggs
1 tbsp. mustard
1 tsp. vinegar
1 tbsp. mayonnaise
GREAT...Seems simple enough to me, how about you?
The purpose of this epic Internet Google expedition was that I happen to love a good Pimento and Cheese sandwich every now and then and I thought that I might make my own spread from scratch for a change here at home.
Nothing fancy, just two pieces of bread and some Pimento and Cheese spread.
But I couldn’t leave things that simple, Nooooo Sirrrrrr, not MEEEE, so I wandered into my kitchen to see what I had been eating out of a plastic tub in the fridge.
I think I might be sick.
Take a gander at this list of ingredients off of a tub of store-bought “Pimentoy and Cheesy” crap that I had in my house this morning:
American Cheese Imitation (water, partially hydrogenated soybean oil, Cassen, whey [milk], Sodium phosphate,Modified corn starch,Sodium citrate, Salt, Artificial flavors, Lactic acid, Sorbic Acid [preservative], Adipic acid, Artificial Colors, Calcium Phosphate, Sodium Aluminum Palminate, Riboflavin,Vitamin B-12)
Salad Dressing (soybean oil, water, corn syrup, vinegar, egg yolks, modified corn starch, sugar, salt, spice, lemon juice concentrate, oleoresin, Paprika.
Bell Pepper (Water, bell pepper, citric acid)
Potassium Sorbate and Sodium Benzoate to protect flavor
Anmatto Color
Salt
I'm going to get my favorite large wooden spoon and go gag myself now...
For those of my readers that haven’t been hanging around this Blog for any length of time, I’m going to take this opportunity to mention that, besides being an engineer (and architect and artist and writer and scholar and musician and lover and history buff and all around self-proclaimed good guy), I also really love to cook.
So much so, I have started writing a separate cooking blog called The Redneck Gourmet to document my cooking adventures,
Go check it out when you have the time, if you will.
I think that I am getting pretty good at it (succumbing to yet another a brief moment of self edification here)…cooking, that is. The writing about cooking part of my resume probably still needs some work yet.
It hasn’t always been that way with regard to my interest in cooking, however, but smack dab in the middle of my life, after I got divorced in my mid thirties, I decided to seriously learn how to work my way around something besides the Barbeque grill—an avocation that many, if not most, men are afraid to do. As a result, I started hanging out in the kitchen doing something besides eating peanut butter sandwiches off of a paper towel while leaning over the sink.
I’ve actually managed to competently take over the kitchen in my domicile. My girlfriend Pat doesn’t seem to mind, however.
To my surprise, I figured out that cooking is really just simple chemistry like I learned at Georgia Tech—surrounded by some fancy candles, stainless pots and pans, a few pieces of china or stoneware, and perhaps some vases full of flowers if you want to demonstrate a little flare.
The cool thing about the chemistry of cooking is that it is so forgiving (within certain limits) and unlike titrating an acid/base solution or worrying about how many “moles” of sodium you have in your Pyrex glass beaker, with cooking you can use your eyeballs and taste buds as your litmus paper and you do most of your work without wearing safety glasses.
At least that is the way MY cooking goes…there might be a few people out there that have a different experience and opinion on this topic.
Regarding cooking safety, I still do have a tendency to want to cook half naked—from the waist up that is, and in the process I’ve learned first hand an intimate knowledge of how to control the temperature of a skillet in order to prevent spattering my belly and chest with hot grease while frying bacon in the morning.
Don’t worry, when I have guests in the house I elect to wear a shirt to cover my hairy chest and possibly a baseball cap to cover my ever balding head.
“Hairless” food is always a good motto, and my lovely Mother just made me a nice apron as a Christmas gift this year so that I wouldn’t spoil my shirts and pants if and when I happen to allow a sauce to get too hot or commit some other culinary “boo-boo” while preparing my guests’ dinner.
Actually, I’ve found that you can meet some really interesting people when you know how to cook. Many people are eager to interact with you and help you as you hone and develop your cooking skills.
I try not to eat crappy junk foods in my middle age, so cooking definitely helps my dietary issues. No chips, no Twinkies, no candy (OK, ok maybe some Godiva chocolate), and few cookies. I prefer instead to torture myself cooking more wholesome foods in theory, from scratch, but still I elect to use bacon grease and gobs of real butter in my concoctions.
You know what?
In the end , when everything is said and done, I will still be dead Dead DEAD like the next Vegan that sits around eating Tofu and soy burgers all day, so why deny myself of the most important ingredient in food...
Flavor!
I’ve also learned that you can live without a microwave oven—the solution being something called aluminum foil, a 250 degree oven, and a bit of patience. I’d rather reserve the counter space in our small condo kitchen for other uses than having a big white plastic box sitting around doing nothing 23-3/4 hours each day. Fast cooking is great, but we can’t afford the real estate right now (I do have a double oven though…)
Any whoooooooo…
What started this rambling was when I was limping around the Internet this evening and looked up a recipe for Pimento and Cheese.
Here are the recommended ingredients to make your own:
16 oz. pkg. Kraft Deluxe American Cheese (grated)
4 oz. jar pimento
2 eggs
1 tbsp. mustard
1 tsp. vinegar
1 tbsp. mayonnaise
GREAT...Seems simple enough to me, how about you?
The purpose of this epic Internet Google expedition was that I happen to love a good Pimento and Cheese sandwich every now and then and I thought that I might make my own spread from scratch for a change here at home.
Nothing fancy, just two pieces of bread and some Pimento and Cheese spread.
But I couldn’t leave things that simple, Nooooo Sirrrrrr, not MEEEE, so I wandered into my kitchen to see what I had been eating out of a plastic tub in the fridge.
I think I might be sick.
Take a gander at this list of ingredients off of a tub of store-bought “Pimentoy and Cheesy” crap that I had in my house this morning:
American Cheese Imitation (water, partially hydrogenated soybean oil, Cassen, whey [milk], Sodium phosphate,Modified corn starch,Sodium citrate, Salt, Artificial flavors, Lactic acid, Sorbic Acid [preservative], Adipic acid, Artificial Colors, Calcium Phosphate, Sodium Aluminum Palminate, Riboflavin,Vitamin B-12)
Salad Dressing (soybean oil, water, corn syrup, vinegar, egg yolks, modified corn starch, sugar, salt, spice, lemon juice concentrate, oleoresin, Paprika.
Bell Pepper (Water, bell pepper, citric acid)
Potassium Sorbate and Sodium Benzoate to protect flavor
Anmatto Color
Salt
I'm going to get my favorite large wooden spoon and go gag myself now...
Friday, January 13, 2006
OH...OH...OHHH...It's Friday the 13th
Quick...Run Away...
Tell me where to go, and I'll meet you there...
Oops...I'm already there
Tell me where to go, and I'll meet you there...
Oops...I'm already there
More Fresh Meat
For a fresh Rant…
I actually have three, no, make that four… Microsoft Word documents open right now, because my mind is racing (although I need to get some sleep so I can go to the theater today) and every single time I start to shut this computer down, dammit if I don’t find something else I have to bitch about.
For instance, look at this story from my beloved Local6 website:
MINEOLA, N.Y.—A shrimp a hibachi chef tossed at a man eating at a Japanese steakhouse ultimately led to the diner's death, his family claims in a $10 million wrongful death lawsuit against the restaurant chain Benihana.
Jerry Colaitis wrenched his neck when he ducked to avoid the shrimp in the chain's Munsey
Park restaurant, attorney Andre Ferenzo said in opening statements Wednesday.
Months after the January 2001 incident, the 43-year-old Long Island man died from complications caused by neck surgery he required afterward, the lawyer said.
Benihana lawyer Charles Connick said it was unlikely a chef who works for tips would toss food at customers after being asked not to, as Ferenzo claimed. Even if that happened, Connick added, the cause of Colaitis' death was an infection or neck injury unrelated to the shrimp.
Benihana chefs mix dining with entertainment as they grill Japanese food in front of patrons. Ferenzo said some of them have become more daring in recent years, but Connick said customers enjoy the experience.
"Some customers, especially dads and sons, want to catch the food," Connick said. "The evidence will show that it was part of the show."
Colaitis, of Old Brookville, underwent neck surgery in June 2001, but there were complications, and he had numbness in his arm, Ferenzo said. He died that November, a day after checking into a hospital with a 105-degree fever.
Flying SHRIMP?
Killed a man?
I’ve been to Benihana manyhana times before, and generally, if you don’t have 38C’s, toss out $20 bills from your wallet, or otherwise attract the attention of the grill chef by being a cute female, you are going to be relegated to the spectator section in the evening’s show.
That (being a spectator) is often still worth the effort, because some of these women just don’t get out much…er…um…never mind…
Next, I think that you should generally know what you are in for when you walk in the front door of the typical Benihana’s restaurants.
It ain’t cheep. For what you get, I think that it can be considered somewhat overpriced.
Perhaps this fellow should have kept on dining at Wendy’s, with the occasional trip to Waffle House, and he'd still be alive.
I say that if the poor plaintiff didn’t have enough sense to reach up and GRAB the shrimp out of the air with HIS HAND, then he also didn’t have enough active brain cells to avoid breaking his stupid neck trying to catch a piece of Dachshund’s turd in the same manner, accidentally flung up in the air by a lawnmower when he’s walking down the sidewalk past our friend’s Ozzie’s lawn maintenance activities.
Do YOU instinctively catch things in your mouth while sitting at a dining table?
I don’t—particularly after I’ve asked my fellow diners and the chef to not toss seafood at me.
Would YOU allow “social pressure” to make you snag a fresh morsel of food off of the grill ?
I might suffer an eye injury or get tossed into jail for kicking someone’s ass for throwing food at me, but I seriously doubt that I would die as a result of a “food catching induced” neck injury.
I actually have three, no, make that four… Microsoft Word documents open right now, because my mind is racing (although I need to get some sleep so I can go to the theater today) and every single time I start to shut this computer down, dammit if I don’t find something else I have to bitch about.
For instance, look at this story from my beloved Local6 website:
MINEOLA, N.Y.—A shrimp a hibachi chef tossed at a man eating at a Japanese steakhouse ultimately led to the diner's death, his family claims in a $10 million wrongful death lawsuit against the restaurant chain Benihana.
Jerry Colaitis wrenched his neck when he ducked to avoid the shrimp in the chain's Munsey
Park restaurant, attorney Andre Ferenzo said in opening statements Wednesday.
Months after the January 2001 incident, the 43-year-old Long Island man died from complications caused by neck surgery he required afterward, the lawyer said.
Benihana lawyer Charles Connick said it was unlikely a chef who works for tips would toss food at customers after being asked not to, as Ferenzo claimed. Even if that happened, Connick added, the cause of Colaitis' death was an infection or neck injury unrelated to the shrimp.
Benihana chefs mix dining with entertainment as they grill Japanese food in front of patrons. Ferenzo said some of them have become more daring in recent years, but Connick said customers enjoy the experience.
"Some customers, especially dads and sons, want to catch the food," Connick said. "The evidence will show that it was part of the show."
Colaitis, of Old Brookville, underwent neck surgery in June 2001, but there were complications, and he had numbness in his arm, Ferenzo said. He died that November, a day after checking into a hospital with a 105-degree fever.
Flying SHRIMP?
Killed a man?
I’ve been to Benihana manyhana times before, and generally, if you don’t have 38C’s, toss out $20 bills from your wallet, or otherwise attract the attention of the grill chef by being a cute female, you are going to be relegated to the spectator section in the evening’s show.
That (being a spectator) is often still worth the effort, because some of these women just don’t get out much…er…um…never mind…
Next, I think that you should generally know what you are in for when you walk in the front door of the typical Benihana’s restaurants.
It ain’t cheep. For what you get, I think that it can be considered somewhat overpriced.
Perhaps this fellow should have kept on dining at Wendy’s, with the occasional trip to Waffle House, and he'd still be alive.
I say that if the poor plaintiff didn’t have enough sense to reach up and GRAB the shrimp out of the air with HIS HAND, then he also didn’t have enough active brain cells to avoid breaking his stupid neck trying to catch a piece of Dachshund’s turd in the same manner, accidentally flung up in the air by a lawnmower when he’s walking down the sidewalk past our friend’s Ozzie’s lawn maintenance activities.
Do YOU instinctively catch things in your mouth while sitting at a dining table?
I don’t—particularly after I’ve asked my fellow diners and the chef to not toss seafood at me.
Would YOU allow “social pressure” to make you snag a fresh morsel of food off of the grill ?
I might suffer an eye injury or get tossed into jail for kicking someone’s ass for throwing food at me, but I seriously doubt that I would die as a result of a “food catching induced” neck injury.
What Are They Actually Selling?
Where was this stuff when I really needed it...
As I've said before, one of my favorite southern comics is Jeff Foxworthy.
A little known fact is that Mr. Foxworthy is also one of my fellow Georgia Tech Alumni, his attendance at our beloved North Avenue Trade School having overlapped with my own personal saga living in downtown Atlanta.
One of Jeff's monologues mentions his excitement at getting Victoria's Secret catalogs in the mail these days--unsolicited.
I understand his position on this matter.
These catalogues show things that most men (and some women) just can't help themselves from staring at when presented in this manner. I copied the above photo from an e-mail delivered to my free Yahoo spam folder, and I decided to comment here to get this issue out of my system for good--hopefully.
Here are some of his words, delivered this morning working strictly from memory, and quoting him as best I can (because I seriously identify with Jeff's take on life):
"You get pictures of grown women, standing around in their underwear, delivered to your door...FOR FREE!"
"where was this stuff when I really NEEDED it?"
"All we had when I was a kid was the Sears and Roebook Catalog...filled with them pictures of those giant 'lunchroom lady' bras...you know something with 57 cast iron hooks."
"If one of those things snaps, someone is losing an eye..."
"As far as I can see...looking at a Victoria's Secret Catalog--Victoria HAS no secrets left..."
I offer my hearty "AMEN"...Mr. Foxworthy
As I've said before, one of my favorite southern comics is Jeff Foxworthy.A little known fact is that Mr. Foxworthy is also one of my fellow Georgia Tech Alumni, his attendance at our beloved North Avenue Trade School having overlapped with my own personal saga living in downtown Atlanta.
One of Jeff's monologues mentions his excitement at getting Victoria's Secret catalogs in the mail these days--unsolicited.
I understand his position on this matter.
These catalogues show things that most men (and some women) just can't help themselves from staring at when presented in this manner. I copied the above photo from an e-mail delivered to my free Yahoo spam folder, and I decided to comment here to get this issue out of my system for good--hopefully.
Here are some of his words, delivered this morning working strictly from memory, and quoting him as best I can (because I seriously identify with Jeff's take on life):
"You get pictures of grown women, standing around in their underwear, delivered to your door...FOR FREE!"
"where was this stuff when I really NEEDED it?"
"All we had when I was a kid was the Sears and Roebook Catalog...filled with them pictures of those giant 'lunchroom lady' bras...you know something with 57 cast iron hooks."
"If one of those things snaps, someone is losing an eye..."
"As far as I can see...looking at a Victoria's Secret Catalog--Victoria HAS no secrets left..."
I offer my hearty "AMEN"...Mr. Foxworthy
Thursday, January 12, 2006
Ted Koppel Joins NPR
A Match Made In heaven...
Ted Koppel has a new one year deal to work at NPR
I'm sure that he'll be really fair and balanced...
(the old saw of a shoe fitting like a glove or birds of a feather flocking together or something like that comes to my mind...)
Ted Koppel has a new one year deal to work at NPR
I'm sure that he'll be really fair and balanced...
(the old saw of a shoe fitting like a glove or birds of a feather flocking together or something like that comes to my mind...)
Is That A Gun In Your Pocket?
"Or Are You Just Glad To See Me?"
I'll let this story speak for itself...here...take a peek...
Priests Furious Over Proposed Condom Law
POSTED: 5:09 pm EST January 11, 2006
BOGOTA, Colombia -- Roman Catholic priests in a Colombian town are furious over a councilman's proposal that people 14 and older must carry a condom at all times to reduce unwanted pregnancies and sexually transmitted diseases.
William Pena, a councilman in Tulua, said Wednesday he will present a formal proposal requiring all men and women - even those just on a visit to the town - to carry at least one condom. Those caught empty-pocketed could be fined $180 or ordered to take a safe sex course, he said.
"Sexual relations are going on constantly," (what...Viagra???) Pena told The Associated Press in an interview. "If you carry a condom, chances are you'll use it during the day. It's not going to be there forever."
Tulua has one of the highest rates of HIV infection in Colombia, he said. The proposal will be debated by other town leaders and could go into effect by March.
Roman Catholic priests in the Cauca Valley town, 150 miles southwest of Bogota, were fuming over the plan.
The Rev. Jesus Velasquez said it would only encourage sexual relations and ridiculed it as absurd. "I would have to have a condom even though I'm a member of the clergy," he was quoted as saying in the newspaper El Tiempo.
Another town priest, the Rev. Roberto Sarmiento, said improved sex education would be a better solution.
"Nobody can force someone to carry a condom in their pocket," he said. "They should instead carry the responsibility of what sexual relations mean."
All I want to know is:
When is the Roman Catholic Church managment going to get some sort of clue in this area of "human relations?"
Secondly, if they are successful...
Why can't they also support me being allowed to haul a Bazooka or some other form of giant rocket launcher around in my pocket to use to blast the heads off of stupid people like these described in this story, along with the stupid people that get paid to publish idiocy like this story represents?
Sorry...I'm going to go take my nap now...
I'm geting cranky...
I'll let this story speak for itself...here...take a peek...
Priests Furious Over Proposed Condom Law
POSTED: 5:09 pm EST January 11, 2006
BOGOTA, Colombia -- Roman Catholic priests in a Colombian town are furious over a councilman's proposal that people 14 and older must carry a condom at all times to reduce unwanted pregnancies and sexually transmitted diseases.
William Pena, a councilman in Tulua, said Wednesday he will present a formal proposal requiring all men and women - even those just on a visit to the town - to carry at least one condom. Those caught empty-pocketed could be fined $180 or ordered to take a safe sex course, he said.
"Sexual relations are going on constantly," (what...Viagra???) Pena told The Associated Press in an interview. "If you carry a condom, chances are you'll use it during the day. It's not going to be there forever."
Tulua has one of the highest rates of HIV infection in Colombia, he said. The proposal will be debated by other town leaders and could go into effect by March.
Roman Catholic priests in the Cauca Valley town, 150 miles southwest of Bogota, were fuming over the plan.
The Rev. Jesus Velasquez said it would only encourage sexual relations and ridiculed it as absurd. "I would have to have a condom even though I'm a member of the clergy," he was quoted as saying in the newspaper El Tiempo.
Another town priest, the Rev. Roberto Sarmiento, said improved sex education would be a better solution.
"Nobody can force someone to carry a condom in their pocket," he said. "They should instead carry the responsibility of what sexual relations mean."
All I want to know is:
When is the Roman Catholic Church managment going to get some sort of clue in this area of "human relations?"
Secondly, if they are successful...
Why can't they also support me being allowed to haul a Bazooka or some other form of giant rocket launcher around in my pocket to use to blast the heads off of stupid people like these described in this story, along with the stupid people that get paid to publish idiocy like this story represents?
Sorry...I'm going to go take my nap now...
I'm geting cranky...
You Just Can't Make This Stuff Up
OK People...
Here I was, ready to turn on talk radio and doze away on my morning nap, when I found this story on Florida's Local6 news website and I just had to offer a comment.
Read this and then tell me what you think...
An 11-year-old boy had a lingering headache two days after a pickup truck ran over his head. "All I remember about it was that when the truck ran over my head, I could hear my bones crack," Cameron Schuette said Tuesday.
Cameron, a 5th-grader and his 13-year-old brother Tyler were helping their grandfather chop and load wood on Sunday. The boys were sitting on the tailgate of their grandfather's truck when he began backing down his gravel driveway and Cameron either fell or jumped off.
Ron Shurley said he at first thought he ran over a piece of wood until he got out of the truck and saw Cameron lying face down in the gravel. Then he stood up and ran into the house, Shurley said.
"He didn't look too worse for wear," Shurley said. "He was just saying he had a headache."
After spotting blood running out of the boy's ear, Shurley drove him to the hospital. Cameron was then transferred to another hospital, where tests revealed he had a slight hairline skull fracture. He also had roadrash on his neck and face, a black eye and a laceration on his ear canal.
He was released from the hospital Tuesday, suffering a stiff neck and a headache.
His mother, Shannon England, said the accident showed the dangers of letting children ride on tailgates. She said it was a "miracle" that Cameron had not been injured worse..
As my Blog buddy Steve H. over at Hog on ice has said, forget Matt Drudge's famous big money Drudge Report, all you have to do is hang around at the Local 6 website to get enough craziness to last you a lifetime.
Finally, the story had this to say:
"Maybe he has an exceptionally hard head," Shurley said.
My Mother and my girl Pat can certainly identify with that concept...
(because they they know someone with an even HARDER head...)
Here I was, ready to turn on talk radio and doze away on my morning nap, when I found this story on Florida's Local6 news website and I just had to offer a comment.
Read this and then tell me what you think...
An 11-year-old boy had a lingering headache two days after a pickup truck ran over his head. "All I remember about it was that when the truck ran over my head, I could hear my bones crack," Cameron Schuette said Tuesday.
Cameron, a 5th-grader and his 13-year-old brother Tyler were helping their grandfather chop and load wood on Sunday. The boys were sitting on the tailgate of their grandfather's truck when he began backing down his gravel driveway and Cameron either fell or jumped off.
Ron Shurley said he at first thought he ran over a piece of wood until he got out of the truck and saw Cameron lying face down in the gravel. Then he stood up and ran into the house, Shurley said.
"He didn't look too worse for wear," Shurley said. "He was just saying he had a headache."
After spotting blood running out of the boy's ear, Shurley drove him to the hospital. Cameron was then transferred to another hospital, where tests revealed he had a slight hairline skull fracture. He also had roadrash on his neck and face, a black eye and a laceration on his ear canal.
He was released from the hospital Tuesday, suffering a stiff neck and a headache.
His mother, Shannon England, said the accident showed the dangers of letting children ride on tailgates. She said it was a "miracle" that Cameron had not been injured worse..
As my Blog buddy Steve H. over at Hog on ice has said, forget Matt Drudge's famous big money Drudge Report, all you have to do is hang around at the Local 6 website to get enough craziness to last you a lifetime.
Finally, the story had this to say:
"Maybe he has an exceptionally hard head," Shurley said.
My Mother and my girl Pat can certainly identify with that concept...
(because they they know someone with an even HARDER head...)
Ruby Throated Hummingbirds
This is not my finger in this picture.
I'm not going to lie to you--I wish it was, but it's not.
Two years ago I couldn't tell you anything about Hummingbirds except :
A--they are very tiny birds that can hover in flight...and...
B--See A above
I had, in fact, previously enjoyed seeing Hummingbirds in the Bahamas and in Jamaica when I visited various resorts on vacation, but the idea of actually interacting with hummers on a daily basis was quite foreign to me until Pat and I moved here to St. Simons Island.
Then everything changed.
During our first summer here on the island we bought a cheep hummingbird feeder, mixed up a batch of sugar water, and we were quite amazed that we soon developed our own little Hummingbird “Air Force” that conducted aerobatic exercises outside our second floor living room window every day.
If you’ve never had a relationship with “Hummers,” you’re missing one of life’s simplest pleasures. Don’t get me wrong here—pound for pound, if Hummers were the size of humans, I’d be hiding under a rock somewhere because these little bastards can be viscious to each other.
Fortunately they are not that size, so you can let your Pugs and Poodles and grandchildren run around in safety outside while the Hummers buzz around overhead. Most inattentive people think that they are seeing insects when they are actually seeing Hummers.
We have what we call “Hummingbird wars” outside the window each afternoon between March and October. During these altercations, a couple of dominate birds will sit on nearby tree branches and defend our feeders (we now have two) from foreign birds that evidently don’t reside in the area or don’t belong to our flock or otherwise meet whatever criteria Hummers apply to their territorial protection strategies.
Our Hummers are mainly of the Ruby-throated Species. We might get an occasional visitor in other variations, but we’ve learned to recognize the Rubies and they represent 99% of the members of our own Air Force.
The above picture of the little male Ruby-Throat sitting on some unidentified person’s thumb makes me extremely jealous, because I’ve heard that you can develop a relationship with these wild birds where they will actually perch on you.
I’ve already had two up-close and personal experiences myself, but I have as yet not had a Hummer sit on me personally.
While visiting my Mother last spring down in south Alabama, I assisted her in purchasing and putting out a new hummingbird feeder on her breezeway adjacent to the pool. I think it was on the very first day (the date is incidental to this story) that the feeder was out, I managed to leave the adjacent garage passage door open, and late that afternoon I walked into the garage and found a male Ruby Hummer panicking and bouncing off of the ceiling of the garage.
Hummers instinctively fly upward when threatened, and opening the garage doors and chasing the little bird around only increased his distress. They are smart, but instinctively they are their own worst enemies in these situations.
Fortunately (and I’m not making this up) I had read on a website just weeks earlier about how to catch and release a hummer from a garage. Pat and my Mother and I, through a group effort, managed to corner the little guy—I grabbed him in my bare hands—and walk him outside to safely release him.
God, I wish I had my camera. He was poking his tiny head out and looking at me like he just knew that I was going to bite him in half and swallow him, toes and all…
But I didn’t, and upon his release he promptly hauled ass out of sight into the trees to the north of the house.
My other “close encounter” was late last summer when I was out on the patio doing some birdfeeder maintenance and I froze while a hummer came up to the feeder adjacent to the one I was working on, about a foot away from my head, and happily drank his fill.
Unfortunately, in order to keep from scaring him off, I was only able to see him out of the corner of my eye, but the striking thing for me was hearing the mechanical buzz of his wings as he maneuvered around the feeder.
Pat witnessed the whole episode, and being the bird lover that she is, she was quite envious of my experience.
With this week's 75 degree F daytime temps and balmy nights, we're already anticipating cooking up another batch of sugar water and waiting for our guys and gals to return from the long journey across the Gulf of Mexico.
As for me, personally, before this summer is over, I'm gonna show you all a picture of me with a Hummer sitting on my ever balding head (probably taking a poop on me in the process.)
And by the way, I owe a Hat Tip to Rodger over at Curmudgeonly & Skeptical for the photo...
I'm not going to lie to you--I wish it was, but it's not.
Two years ago I couldn't tell you anything about Hummingbirds except :
A--they are very tiny birds that can hover in flight...and...
B--See A above
I had, in fact, previously enjoyed seeing Hummingbirds in the Bahamas and in Jamaica when I visited various resorts on vacation, but the idea of actually interacting with hummers on a daily basis was quite foreign to me until Pat and I moved here to St. Simons Island.
Then everything changed.
During our first summer here on the island we bought a cheep hummingbird feeder, mixed up a batch of sugar water, and we were quite amazed that we soon developed our own little Hummingbird “Air Force” that conducted aerobatic exercises outside our second floor living room window every day.
If you’ve never had a relationship with “Hummers,” you’re missing one of life’s simplest pleasures. Don’t get me wrong here—pound for pound, if Hummers were the size of humans, I’d be hiding under a rock somewhere because these little bastards can be viscious to each other.
Fortunately they are not that size, so you can let your Pugs and Poodles and grandchildren run around in safety outside while the Hummers buzz around overhead. Most inattentive people think that they are seeing insects when they are actually seeing Hummers.
We have what we call “Hummingbird wars” outside the window each afternoon between March and October. During these altercations, a couple of dominate birds will sit on nearby tree branches and defend our feeders (we now have two) from foreign birds that evidently don’t reside in the area or don’t belong to our flock or otherwise meet whatever criteria Hummers apply to their territorial protection strategies.
Our Hummers are mainly of the Ruby-throated Species. We might get an occasional visitor in other variations, but we’ve learned to recognize the Rubies and they represent 99% of the members of our own Air Force.
The above picture of the little male Ruby-Throat sitting on some unidentified person’s thumb makes me extremely jealous, because I’ve heard that you can develop a relationship with these wild birds where they will actually perch on you.
I’ve already had two up-close and personal experiences myself, but I have as yet not had a Hummer sit on me personally.
While visiting my Mother last spring down in south Alabama, I assisted her in purchasing and putting out a new hummingbird feeder on her breezeway adjacent to the pool. I think it was on the very first day (the date is incidental to this story) that the feeder was out, I managed to leave the adjacent garage passage door open, and late that afternoon I walked into the garage and found a male Ruby Hummer panicking and bouncing off of the ceiling of the garage.
Hummers instinctively fly upward when threatened, and opening the garage doors and chasing the little bird around only increased his distress. They are smart, but instinctively they are their own worst enemies in these situations.
Fortunately (and I’m not making this up) I had read on a website just weeks earlier about how to catch and release a hummer from a garage. Pat and my Mother and I, through a group effort, managed to corner the little guy—I grabbed him in my bare hands—and walk him outside to safely release him.
God, I wish I had my camera. He was poking his tiny head out and looking at me like he just knew that I was going to bite him in half and swallow him, toes and all…
But I didn’t, and upon his release he promptly hauled ass out of sight into the trees to the north of the house.
My other “close encounter” was late last summer when I was out on the patio doing some birdfeeder maintenance and I froze while a hummer came up to the feeder adjacent to the one I was working on, about a foot away from my head, and happily drank his fill.
Unfortunately, in order to keep from scaring him off, I was only able to see him out of the corner of my eye, but the striking thing for me was hearing the mechanical buzz of his wings as he maneuvered around the feeder.
Pat witnessed the whole episode, and being the bird lover that she is, she was quite envious of my experience.
With this week's 75 degree F daytime temps and balmy nights, we're already anticipating cooking up another batch of sugar water and waiting for our guys and gals to return from the long journey across the Gulf of Mexico.
As for me, personally, before this summer is over, I'm gonna show you all a picture of me with a Hummer sitting on my ever balding head (probably taking a poop on me in the process.)
And by the way, I owe a Hat Tip to Rodger over at Curmudgeonly & Skeptical for the photo...
More Weird Crap I Found On The Internet
I just tripped over this Web Page about spending the night in jail...but not in the usual way that you would envision.
Couldn't you live like a King in a room that looks like this?
It will cost you $105 per night, and you don't need a lawyer to get yourself out when you want to end your stay.
It's in the Jailer's Inn Bed and Breakfast in Bardstown, Kentucky.
I guess it makes sense that even old jails are useful when rennovated and re-opened as things like Bed and Breakfast facilities.
I love staying in old inns and B&B's, so this property is on my personal "want to stay list."
Wednesday, January 11, 2006
Hee Hee Heee
Roger over at Curmudgeonly & Skeptical had this gem today and I borrowed stole it:
I think that about covers the situation...
I think that about covers the situation...
Frisbee, Anyone?
Run a Deep Post Pattern...
I love tossing a Frisbee.
There was a time, back in the late 1970’s and early 1980’s, when I couldn’t imagine not having a couple of dozen Frisbees around me.
I used to have a Frisbee in my hand practically 24 hours each day.
Frisbees are amazing appliances and tools, and used properly, you might be able to use a Frisbee to save your life one day.
I think that Harold “Odd Job” Sakata’s
famous flying steel brimmed bowler hat
in the James Bond film Goldfinger was
somehow inspired by a Frisbee.
I love it because you can eat off of a Frisbee.
At least I have, many times.
All you have to do is to wash your Frisbee off, turn it upside down, and use it like a paper plate.
Veal ...anyone?
You can also entertain a dog with your Frisbee--just watch Animal Planet to see so for yourself.
Heck, you can even pick up girls with your Frisbee abilities (as to whether they are actually worthwhile women is still an open question, I might add.)
My friends Rusty, Andy, Tom, Dave, and I could throw a Frisbee up and down the hallway in our college dorm at 2:00 AM and not bother anybody, because we were so accurate with our throws and catches that no one knew we were out there in the hall.
The key to such late night adventures was tossing the Frisbee accurately and catching it every time—with one hand if possible…sorta like my idea of perfect GUN control—“hitting the intended target every damn time.”
My Frisbee friends and I would go out at night and play “Disk Golf” on an impromptu course on the Georgia Tech campus. We each actually carried a couple of Frisbees with us—a “putter”, a “driver,” and a mid-range or back up disk (just in case we landed one on the roof or something.) Little did we know how that sport would spread around the world like it has today.
We also started a dorm based Ultimate Frisbee Team and competed against a team called the ”Spliffs” on an intramural basis, again in a day when the sport (Ultimate Frisbee) was in it’s infancy. I’m not really sure who was better at tossing the Frisbee and who was better at rolling a joint, but we lost to the Spliffs every single time we played against them, and in the end nobody seemed to care about the loss.
Now I hate to admit it, but when my house burned down in 2001 I lost my entire Frisbee collection, and because of my wobbly health since that day I haven’t bothered to buy a single replacement Frisbee.
I’m totally Frisbee-less, and I really hadn’t thought about it until this morning when I started writing this posting.
Back in “the day” I would have at least one 165 gram, probably a standard 150 gram, maybe a 200 gram HDX, and a pile of crappy banged up back-up Frisbees of different sizes and shapes that I had either used and abused myself or found laying around in the world.
Usually, if I had less than a half dozen Frisbees laying around, you'd find me running by the bank to withdraw some money on my way to the store to buy a new one.
A Frisbee, that is...
I’ll be right back.
I love tossing a Frisbee.
There was a time, back in the late 1970’s and early 1980’s, when I couldn’t imagine not having a couple of dozen Frisbees around me.
I used to have a Frisbee in my hand practically 24 hours each day.
Frisbees are amazing appliances and tools, and used properly, you might be able to use a Frisbee to save your life one day.
I think that Harold “Odd Job” Sakata’sfamous flying steel brimmed bowler hat
in the James Bond film Goldfinger was
somehow inspired by a Frisbee.
I love it because you can eat off of a Frisbee.
At least I have, many times.
All you have to do is to wash your Frisbee off, turn it upside down, and use it like a paper plate.
Veal ...anyone?
You can also entertain a dog with your Frisbee--just watch Animal Planet to see so for yourself.
Heck, you can even pick up girls with your Frisbee abilities (as to whether they are actually worthwhile women is still an open question, I might add.)
My friends Rusty, Andy, Tom, Dave, and I could throw a Frisbee up and down the hallway in our college dorm at 2:00 AM and not bother anybody, because we were so accurate with our throws and catches that no one knew we were out there in the hall.
The key to such late night adventures was tossing the Frisbee accurately and catching it every time—with one hand if possible…sorta like my idea of perfect GUN control—“hitting the intended target every damn time.”
My Frisbee friends and I would go out at night and play “Disk Golf” on an impromptu course on the Georgia Tech campus. We each actually carried a couple of Frisbees with us—a “putter”, a “driver,” and a mid-range or back up disk (just in case we landed one on the roof or something.) Little did we know how that sport would spread around the world like it has today.
We also started a dorm based Ultimate Frisbee Team and competed against a team called the ”Spliffs” on an intramural basis, again in a day when the sport (Ultimate Frisbee) was in it’s infancy. I’m not really sure who was better at tossing the Frisbee and who was better at rolling a joint, but we lost to the Spliffs every single time we played against them, and in the end nobody seemed to care about the loss.
Now I hate to admit it, but when my house burned down in 2001 I lost my entire Frisbee collection, and because of my wobbly health since that day I haven’t bothered to buy a single replacement Frisbee.
I’m totally Frisbee-less, and I really hadn’t thought about it until this morning when I started writing this posting.
Back in “the day” I would have at least one 165 gram, probably a standard 150 gram, maybe a 200 gram HDX, and a pile of crappy banged up back-up Frisbees of different sizes and shapes that I had either used and abused myself or found laying around in the world.
Usually, if I had less than a half dozen Frisbees laying around, you'd find me running by the bank to withdraw some money on my way to the store to buy a new one.
A Frisbee, that is...
I’ll be right back.
Oh My Gosh... It's The Chinese Bird Flue
Coming to a Restaurant near YOU--But Why Worry?
I'm not gonna eat any Chinese Chicken.
Simply put, that is my personal solution to the "Bird Flue" problem.
Kissing a Chicken is out of the question, at least intentionally, that is.
VAN, Turkey -- Sumeyya Mamuk considered the chickens in her backyard to be beloved pets. The 8-year-old girl fed them, petted them and took care of them. When they started to get sick and die, she hugged them and tenderly kissed them goodbye.
The next morning, her face and eyes were swollen and she had a high fever. Her father took her to a hospital, and five days later she was confirmed to have the deadly H5N1 strain of bird flu.
"The chickens were sick. One had puffed up and she touched it. We told her not to. She loved chickens a lot," her father, Abdulkerim Mamuk, said of the second youngest of his eight children. "She held them in her arms."
Before I would buy it, I always recommend that you always ask your chicken..."Sprechen ze deutch?"
Also, it's a dead giveaway if your chicken hands you some Fortune Cookies or proceeds to put itself into a small cardboard box with a side of rice and some little packages of soy sauce...
In that event...
Run...
I'm not gonna eat any Chinese Chicken.
Simply put, that is my personal solution to the "Bird Flue" problem.
Kissing a Chicken is out of the question, at least intentionally, that is.
VAN, Turkey -- Sumeyya Mamuk considered the chickens in her backyard to be beloved pets. The 8-year-old girl fed them, petted them and took care of them. When they started to get sick and die, she hugged them and tenderly kissed them goodbye.
The next morning, her face and eyes were swollen and she had a high fever. Her father took her to a hospital, and five days later she was confirmed to have the deadly H5N1 strain of bird flu.
"The chickens were sick. One had puffed up and she touched it. We told her not to. She loved chickens a lot," her father, Abdulkerim Mamuk, said of the second youngest of his eight children. "She held them in her arms."
Before I would buy it, I always recommend that you always ask your chicken..."Sprechen ze deutch?"
Also, it's a dead giveaway if your chicken hands you some Fortune Cookies or proceeds to put itself into a small cardboard box with a side of rice and some little packages of soy sauce...
In that event...
Run...
Senatorial Rectal Cranial Inversion--Updated!!!
This Just In...
Democrat Ted Kennedy was caught at the Senate's confirmation hearings for Judge Alito (again) today with his head up his ass, and while there he was surprised to find Judiciary Committee leader Republican Arlen Spector in there with his own head up his own butt, and some as yet undetermined senatorial body even further burried up in the process with his own head in his own rectal canal.
Sorta like a Senatorial Turducken , only different
Amazing...
Democrat Ted Kennedy was caught at the Senate's confirmation hearings for Judge Alito (again) today with his head up his ass, and while there he was surprised to find Judiciary Committee leader Republican Arlen Spector in there with his own head up his own butt, and some as yet undetermined senatorial body even further burried up in the process with his own head in his own rectal canal.
Sorta like a Senatorial Turducken , only different
Amazing...
Tuesday, January 10, 2006
A Redneck’s Take
On Sharon’s Illness And Impending Death…
I was born in 1959.
Israel, in its present geographic location, was at that time about 12 years old, as I recall.
Since then, I have managed to grow to maturity, get a college education, while at the same time watch a world full of idiots play ping-pong with the Jewish state that was created under the auspices of the United Nations and every other %$#@& tree hugging, liberal/conservative group of “busybodies” that were still suffering post WWII remorse for the German atrocities inflicted on this group of people.
I like the way the Israeli’s fight a war—circa 1967.
I like the way that the Israeli’s take care of terrorists—circa 1972.
I like the way that Israel deals with nuclear threats—Iran circa 1981.
I love to shoot the Israeli Desert Eagle 50 caliber pistol.
I don’t quite know enough about the details of the politics, but dammit if the
illness of the Israeli PM Ariel Sharon doesn’t come at the worst possible time in this so called "peace process."
I think that some serious intervention in the Gaza Strip and a bit of radio activity, delivered by friendly fire, may be the only solution to this area’s problem.
I was born in 1959.
Israel, in its present geographic location, was at that time about 12 years old, as I recall.
Since then, I have managed to grow to maturity, get a college education, while at the same time watch a world full of idiots play ping-pong with the Jewish state that was created under the auspices of the United Nations and every other %$#@& tree hugging, liberal/conservative group of “busybodies” that were still suffering post WWII remorse for the German atrocities inflicted on this group of people.
I like the way the Israeli’s fight a war—circa 1967.
I like the way that the Israeli’s take care of terrorists—circa 1972.
I like the way that Israel deals with nuclear threats—Iran circa 1981.
I love to shoot the Israeli Desert Eagle 50 caliber pistol.
I don’t quite know enough about the details of the politics, but dammit if the
illness of the Israeli PM Ariel Sharon doesn’t come at the worst possible time in this so called "peace process."
I think that some serious intervention in the Gaza Strip and a bit of radio activity, delivered by friendly fire, may be the only solution to this area’s problem.
Chocolate and Zucchini
Who ARE these people?
This lovely young woman writes an excellent cooking Blog that has already earned her a Cookbook publishing deal.
I'm jealous, but it's actually no wonder--look how wonderfully she writes:
"A lot can be learned about your cooking self by considering what you eat when you're on your own. I have friends who are just not hungry when they're alone, who (gasp!) forget to eat, who don't consider it a real meal if there's no dining companion, or who just eat a Kinder Surprise, build the little toy and call it dinner -- and I'm not making this up.
What's most surprising to me is that some of them are great cooks, but somehow they don't find it worth the effort to use their talents if it's just for their own benefit. I say, you should treat yourself as if you were you own guest.
I certainly understand the desire to keep things simple when no one's looking -- and I'm not saying you should prepare multiple courses and whip out votive candles, although it's a nice thought -- but to me, dinner alone shouldn't be expedited as if it were a chore. Instead, I see it as a unique opportunity to eat exactly what I please and how I want to eat it, comfortable in my delicious solitude. And in my world, this often means eating in a bowl, on the couch, while watching Desperate Housewives.
If you are a cook, go check out the Chocolate and Zucchini Website, and if you just like reading Blogs...go there anyway.
I do.
This lovely young woman writes an excellent cooking Blog that has already earned her a Cookbook publishing deal.
I'm jealous, but it's actually no wonder--look how wonderfully she writes:
"A lot can be learned about your cooking self by considering what you eat when you're on your own. I have friends who are just not hungry when they're alone, who (gasp!) forget to eat, who don't consider it a real meal if there's no dining companion, or who just eat a Kinder Surprise, build the little toy and call it dinner -- and I'm not making this up.
What's most surprising to me is that some of them are great cooks, but somehow they don't find it worth the effort to use their talents if it's just for their own benefit. I say, you should treat yourself as if you were you own guest.
I certainly understand the desire to keep things simple when no one's looking -- and I'm not saying you should prepare multiple courses and whip out votive candles, although it's a nice thought -- but to me, dinner alone shouldn't be expedited as if it were a chore. Instead, I see it as a unique opportunity to eat exactly what I please and how I want to eat it, comfortable in my delicious solitude. And in my world, this often means eating in a bowl, on the couch, while watching Desperate Housewives.
If you are a cook, go check out the Chocolate and Zucchini Website, and if you just like reading Blogs...go there anyway.
I do.
Explosive Device Found At San Fran Starbucks
It was in the bathroom
This is crude, but I just have to comment.
Sorry ladies…
FOX News just came on my TV at about 1:45 AM with a breaking news story saying that an “explosive device” was found in the bathroom of a San Francisco area Starbucks coffee shop.
Duuuuuhhhhhhhhh…
What is the big darned story here?
I suggest that on any given day or night of any given week, anyone having come to Starbucks to drink a “double double Espresso” on top of a couple of bowls of Wendy’s chili could be legally considered an explosive device.
Someone call Howard Stern….
This is crude, but I just have to comment.
Sorry ladies…
FOX News just came on my TV at about 1:45 AM with a breaking news story saying that an “explosive device” was found in the bathroom of a San Francisco area Starbucks coffee shop.
Duuuuuhhhhhhhhh…
What is the big darned story here?
I suggest that on any given day or night of any given week, anyone having come to Starbucks to drink a “double double Espresso” on top of a couple of bowls of Wendy’s chili could be legally considered an explosive device.
Someone call Howard Stern….
Under Cover
I Know Nothing…
As I’ve stated before, this year I’m working on improving and expanding my coverage of local political issues. Most of the results of this effort will be published over at my much neglected local political blog that I write incognito.
Unfortunately, I’ve gotten off to a bit of a slow start so far because I’ve been fighting a minor head cold the past few days. We also had guests in town for part of the weekend and that took some of my attention, but tomorrow morning at 5:30 AM I’m kicking off my second secret undercover investigation here in Glynn County.
I’m tempted to say here in this blog what I am up to, but then again, I’m not sure who is reading my writing here and I want to get a little time into the process to see where the story goes before I attach my real identity to the project.
Let’s just say it is a human interest story involving low income citizens, and I’m not shaving right now and I'll be wearing my old work clothes and steel toed boots so that I can fit in with the participants.
Hey buddy, can you spare a dime???
Monday, January 09, 2006
That Global Warming Thing...
She Be A Bitch…
My friend and fellow rocket scientist, Wayne Kirsner, and I love to discuss technical issues that are also political issues. In the course of having our dialogue, we also attempt to solve the world’s problems—at least on paper.
We’ll banter on back and forth for hours at a time over a few weeks via E-mail and on the telephone, then we take a few months off until we see something new in the news that piques our interest, then off we go again—ranting and raving about the stupidity of the politically correct public discourse on things most news “reporters” can never actually understand.
Those of you in the “general public” just have to take your chances on what you believe on any given issue, unless you are very careful with your choice of your source of information.
Seriously, Wayne is a really smart fellow, and he is an intellectual bulldog when it comes to reasoning and logical development of an argument supporting a given issue.
He has a Bachelors degree in Physics and a Masters’ degree in mechanical engineering from the Georgia Institute of Technology. I am just a lowly possessor of a Bachelors degree in Mechanical Engineering Technology myself, but Wayne and I have worked together many times over the past sixteen years and done some great work relating to improving building energy usage and looking at fun things like industrial steam piping problems.
Wayne is also what I consider to be a masochist, because he loves to drive his Lexus SC convertible over to the Starbucks Coffee Shop near Emory University in Atlanta, where he is regularly assaulted by a bunch of LIBERALS.
You know about the relationship between LIBERALS and Starbucks, don’t you?
No?
Well, just for reference, if you will walk into any given Starbucks coffee shop, on any given day, in most any city in the country, you can expect to find a cacophony, a plethora, yes…a virtual cornucopia of bed wetting, nail biting, thumb sucking, bleeding heart LIBERALS all sitting around sipping on Columbian Nario Supreme, half soy, half moo, double doubles (possibly iced.)
P-L-U-E-E-S-E-E-E-E-E-E-E-E-E
Why should ordering coffee be so difficult? Why should one require a college degree to understand the intricacies of buying a cup of coffee?
I’m not impressed.
Any way, when Wayne and I would walk into Starbucks together when I still resided in the Atlanta metro area, we knew that if we wanted to start an argument, all we had to do is start talking about….(hang on…)
GLOBAL WARMING.
Total strangers would stagger over with their eyes rolled back in their heads, interrupt our conversation (taking our bait in the process,) and issue spit laden slogans about how the world was ending and it was the Capitalists and the Republicans fault and they would end the conversation with threats of running over us with their Italian Moped or bicycle when we attempted to exit the parking lot.
Don’t get me wrong here, we’re talking about what I would ordinarily consider to be smart people, but they apparently are just mis-informed.
Horribly mis-informed…courtesy of the United Nations and their beloved Kyoto Treaty.
These people have bought into this GLOBAL WARMING “cult,” and to them it feels good worrying about “Mother Earth,” and “saving the planet” and no amount of rational debate and reasoning will change their mind.
Instead of relying on the NY Times and the Associated press to supply us with our information on Global Warming, Wayne and I happen to have had the opportunity to have dialogues with Dr. Peter Griffith and Dr. Richard Lindzen that do climate research at the Massachussets Institute of Technology.
These guys are on the cutting edge of the field of climate modeling, but they are also considered “outsiders” because of their skepticism of any existing proof of MAN’S DIRECT INFLUENCE ON THE TEMPERATURE OF OUR PLANET.
By default, we have learned that Dr.’s Griffith’s and Lindzen’s opportunities to participate in the ongoing public dialogue and to be included in professional conferences have been limited because of the political correctness of their positions.
Dr. Griffith and Dr. Lindzen say that the earth MIGHT be getting warmer, but that IF it really is, there is no PROOF that humans and our industrialization of the planet is the cause of the warming.
Things like solar cycles and El Nino and La Nina and untold yet to be discovered processes influence our weather and sitting around wetting your pants about GLOBAL WARMING, in my considered Redneck opinion, is only going to yield one thing…
a bad case of Diaper Rash.
If global warming is such a threat, why is New Delhi, India having record cold this week?
Just wondering…
My friend and fellow rocket scientist, Wayne Kirsner, and I love to discuss technical issues that are also political issues. In the course of having our dialogue, we also attempt to solve the world’s problems—at least on paper.
We’ll banter on back and forth for hours at a time over a few weeks via E-mail and on the telephone, then we take a few months off until we see something new in the news that piques our interest, then off we go again—ranting and raving about the stupidity of the politically correct public discourse on things most news “reporters” can never actually understand.
Those of you in the “general public” just have to take your chances on what you believe on any given issue, unless you are very careful with your choice of your source of information.
Seriously, Wayne is a really smart fellow, and he is an intellectual bulldog when it comes to reasoning and logical development of an argument supporting a given issue.
He has a Bachelors degree in Physics and a Masters’ degree in mechanical engineering from the Georgia Institute of Technology. I am just a lowly possessor of a Bachelors degree in Mechanical Engineering Technology myself, but Wayne and I have worked together many times over the past sixteen years and done some great work relating to improving building energy usage and looking at fun things like industrial steam piping problems.
Wayne is also what I consider to be a masochist, because he loves to drive his Lexus SC convertible over to the Starbucks Coffee Shop near Emory University in Atlanta, where he is regularly assaulted by a bunch of LIBERALS.
You know about the relationship between LIBERALS and Starbucks, don’t you?
No?
Well, just for reference, if you will walk into any given Starbucks coffee shop, on any given day, in most any city in the country, you can expect to find a cacophony, a plethora, yes…a virtual cornucopia of bed wetting, nail biting, thumb sucking, bleeding heart LIBERALS all sitting around sipping on Columbian Nario Supreme, half soy, half moo, double doubles (possibly iced.)
P-L-U-E-E-S-E-E-E-E-E-E-E-E-E
Why should ordering coffee be so difficult? Why should one require a college degree to understand the intricacies of buying a cup of coffee?
I’m not impressed.
Any way, when Wayne and I would walk into Starbucks together when I still resided in the Atlanta metro area, we knew that if we wanted to start an argument, all we had to do is start talking about….(hang on…)
GLOBAL WARMING.
Total strangers would stagger over with their eyes rolled back in their heads, interrupt our conversation (taking our bait in the process,) and issue spit laden slogans about how the world was ending and it was the Capitalists and the Republicans fault and they would end the conversation with threats of running over us with their Italian Moped or bicycle when we attempted to exit the parking lot.
Don’t get me wrong here, we’re talking about what I would ordinarily consider to be smart people, but they apparently are just mis-informed.
Horribly mis-informed…courtesy of the United Nations and their beloved Kyoto Treaty.
These people have bought into this GLOBAL WARMING “cult,” and to them it feels good worrying about “Mother Earth,” and “saving the planet” and no amount of rational debate and reasoning will change their mind.
Instead of relying on the NY Times and the Associated press to supply us with our information on Global Warming, Wayne and I happen to have had the opportunity to have dialogues with Dr. Peter Griffith and Dr. Richard Lindzen that do climate research at the Massachussets Institute of Technology.
These guys are on the cutting edge of the field of climate modeling, but they are also considered “outsiders” because of their skepticism of any existing proof of MAN’S DIRECT INFLUENCE ON THE TEMPERATURE OF OUR PLANET.
By default, we have learned that Dr.’s Griffith’s and Lindzen’s opportunities to participate in the ongoing public dialogue and to be included in professional conferences have been limited because of the political correctness of their positions.
Dr. Griffith and Dr. Lindzen say that the earth MIGHT be getting warmer, but that IF it really is, there is no PROOF that humans and our industrialization of the planet is the cause of the warming.
Things like solar cycles and El Nino and La Nina and untold yet to be discovered processes influence our weather and sitting around wetting your pants about GLOBAL WARMING, in my considered Redneck opinion, is only going to yield one thing…
a bad case of Diaper Rash.
If global warming is such a threat, why is New Delhi, India having record cold this week?
Just wondering…
Sunday, January 08, 2006
True Homelessness
It’s Out There, But It’s Not Here…
I was cruising around the WWW tonight trying to catch up on the news and the goings on in the world after our guests left town today.
Since I’m particularly cranky these days, and since we just got through entertaining three teenaged girls overnight, this story caught my eye and I realized that I haven’t opined on the issue of homeless children in a while.
Among other things, they say:
SAO PAULO, Brazil--More than 1,000 children have been living underneath highway overpasses, inside tunnels and on city squares in South America's biggest city, according to a study reported by Brazilian media Saturday.
The study, conducted by Sao Paulo city officials, showed that about 1,030 children are homeless in Sao Paulo, a city of more than 10 million people, the Estado de S. Paulo newspaper said.
It said another 3,000 who are not homeless work on the streets, selling candy or begging to help their families.
I feel like spewing some venom on this subject, so please return your tray table and seatback to the upright and locked position while I tell you how I feel.
FIRST of all, in this country, there is absolutely no reason that there should be any “homeless” children.
None at all.
Zero.
Zilch.
If there is a child out there inside the borders of the 50 states of the good old USA that can be considered “legally” “homeless,” there is also one or more corresponding adults that should be in jail as a result and there is an existing taxpayer funded government program that would and should be responsible for housing, clothing, and feeding said child in a fashion worthy of a king by most international (read that United Nations) standards.
In fact, our imperial Federal Government of the United By God States of America and by example, our individual state governments, impose higher standards on how we treat our pet goldfish, birds, dogs, and felines than most foreign countries impose on young humans under the age of 18.
That said, all you have to do is go to these same foreign countries to see true homelessness and the horror it inflicts on children.
If you've been around this blog before you would know that I served some time back in the late 1970’s on a ship stationed in Subic Bay Phillippines.
Being an innocent young man from rural Alabama that had never done and seen a lot of things at that time, I was horrified to find young children roaming alone on the streets of Olongapo City outside the gates of our Navy Base.
The first thing I witnessed after leaving the confines of the base were the girls standing in “bonka boats” in the Olongapo river just outside the guard’s gate. A "bonka boat" was a small dougout canoe with a single outrigger like you see in old movies about the south Pacific.
Yes, these kinds of boats weren't just a figment of Hollywood's imagination.
The young girls, no more than ten or twelve years old, would stand precariously on crates or other supports (in order to make themselves look older and taller) in some kind of cobbled together formal looking dress gown and utter some variation of the phrase:
“hey Joe, throw me a Peso…I show you my tits…”
Accompanying these young girls would be a young boy whose job it was to either catch the peso if it was thrown directly into the boat, else jump into the feces and garbage stained water to capture the money.
I hate to say that our men in uniform enjoyed making the kids jump into that horrible, nasty water to retrieve a coin that at the time was worth somewhere between ten and twenty cents.
Then once you were across the river and into town, you were assaulted with literally hundreds of unescorted children everywhere, selling everything from chewing gum to their own bodies.
I remember walking down the street one evening and feeling someone rubbing the hair on my arm (I’m sorta a hairy dude, except on the top of my head these days.) It was a a little boy that couldn’t have been older than six or eight years old who was selling packs of Wrigleys Chewing gum.
I bought a pack.
What I realized was that the Filipino people treated their children like profit centers…like employees or lawnmowers. Once you were able to walk and talk and wipe your own butt, you also had to go out and earn your share of your own living, and by default your family’s living…
IF you actually had a family.
Many of these children were the products of the transactions between the American military and Filipino prostitutes and just like the children of American solders in Vietnam, they were at best second class citizens. Many of these kids aparently had no family that claimed them, and God knows what abuses they endured as a result.
Where did they sleep?
What did they eat?
The Marcos government, possessor of an infinite supply of women's shoes, certainly didn't step in to ensure their safety.
Did you know that the Phillippines (not England) has the second largest English speaking population in the ENTIRE world?
No?
Well then...I just taught you something in my ramblings...
Here in Georgia, DFACS (the Department of Family and Childrens Services) is one of the biggest abusers of children because of their ineptitude in managing children's affairs, and if I were a child today I think that I would almost choose homelessness over being under the supervision of the so called
GOVERNMENT OFFICIALS...
Can't live with them...
And some can't live without them...
I was cruising around the WWW tonight trying to catch up on the news and the goings on in the world after our guests left town today.
Since I’m particularly cranky these days, and since we just got through entertaining three teenaged girls overnight, this story caught my eye and I realized that I haven’t opined on the issue of homeless children in a while.
Among other things, they say:
SAO PAULO, Brazil--More than 1,000 children have been living underneath highway overpasses, inside tunnels and on city squares in South America's biggest city, according to a study reported by Brazilian media Saturday.
The study, conducted by Sao Paulo city officials, showed that about 1,030 children are homeless in Sao Paulo, a city of more than 10 million people, the Estado de S. Paulo newspaper said.
It said another 3,000 who are not homeless work on the streets, selling candy or begging to help their families.
I feel like spewing some venom on this subject, so please return your tray table and seatback to the upright and locked position while I tell you how I feel.
FIRST of all, in this country, there is absolutely no reason that there should be any “homeless” children.
None at all.
Zero.
Zilch.
If there is a child out there inside the borders of the 50 states of the good old USA that can be considered “legally” “homeless,” there is also one or more corresponding adults that should be in jail as a result and there is an existing taxpayer funded government program that would and should be responsible for housing, clothing, and feeding said child in a fashion worthy of a king by most international (read that United Nations) standards.
In fact, our imperial Federal Government of the United By God States of America and by example, our individual state governments, impose higher standards on how we treat our pet goldfish, birds, dogs, and felines than most foreign countries impose on young humans under the age of 18.
That said, all you have to do is go to these same foreign countries to see true homelessness and the horror it inflicts on children.
If you've been around this blog before you would know that I served some time back in the late 1970’s on a ship stationed in Subic Bay Phillippines.
Being an innocent young man from rural Alabama that had never done and seen a lot of things at that time, I was horrified to find young children roaming alone on the streets of Olongapo City outside the gates of our Navy Base.
The first thing I witnessed after leaving the confines of the base were the girls standing in “bonka boats” in the Olongapo river just outside the guard’s gate. A "bonka boat" was a small dougout canoe with a single outrigger like you see in old movies about the south Pacific.
Yes, these kinds of boats weren't just a figment of Hollywood's imagination.
The young girls, no more than ten or twelve years old, would stand precariously on crates or other supports (in order to make themselves look older and taller) in some kind of cobbled together formal looking dress gown and utter some variation of the phrase:
“hey Joe, throw me a Peso…I show you my tits…”
Accompanying these young girls would be a young boy whose job it was to either catch the peso if it was thrown directly into the boat, else jump into the feces and garbage stained water to capture the money.
I hate to say that our men in uniform enjoyed making the kids jump into that horrible, nasty water to retrieve a coin that at the time was worth somewhere between ten and twenty cents.
Then once you were across the river and into town, you were assaulted with literally hundreds of unescorted children everywhere, selling everything from chewing gum to their own bodies.
I remember walking down the street one evening and feeling someone rubbing the hair on my arm (I’m sorta a hairy dude, except on the top of my head these days.) It was a a little boy that couldn’t have been older than six or eight years old who was selling packs of Wrigleys Chewing gum.
I bought a pack.
What I realized was that the Filipino people treated their children like profit centers…like employees or lawnmowers. Once you were able to walk and talk and wipe your own butt, you also had to go out and earn your share of your own living, and by default your family’s living…
IF you actually had a family.
Many of these children were the products of the transactions between the American military and Filipino prostitutes and just like the children of American solders in Vietnam, they were at best second class citizens. Many of these kids aparently had no family that claimed them, and God knows what abuses they endured as a result.
Where did they sleep?
What did they eat?
The Marcos government, possessor of an infinite supply of women's shoes, certainly didn't step in to ensure their safety.
Did you know that the Phillippines (not England) has the second largest English speaking population in the ENTIRE world?
No?
Well then...I just taught you something in my ramblings...
Here in Georgia, DFACS (the Department of Family and Childrens Services) is one of the biggest abusers of children because of their ineptitude in managing children's affairs, and if I were a child today I think that I would almost choose homelessness over being under the supervision of the so called
GOVERNMENT OFFICIALS...
Can't live with them...
And some can't live without them...
Saturday, January 07, 2006
Beating A Dead Horse
116 Still Dead Today…
I’m sorry ladies and gentlemen, but the media’s fascination with the West Virginia Coal mine disaster that occurred this past week still causes me to twitch and spasm when I accidentally, yet incessantly run across some STUPID ASSED NEWS STORY lamenting the horrible last hours of these desperate men that had no choice but to risk their lives to earn a living because the Bush Administration and the Republicans and Libertarians like me want people to die so that WE don’t have to pay taxes and WE are otherwise just generally insensitive to the obvious suffering of our fellow men, women, and children…
…taking a big breath…(that was supposed to be a run-on sentence)
I have a news headline that I would like to announce:
LIFE (can be) A BITCH—THEN YOU (have the God given right to) DIE.
…inhaling again…
Based on the media’s take on this story, every single day I should write my final farewell to my dear Mother, my girlfriend Pat, and the world in general.
Here is what I would write.
Dear Mom, Pat, Friends, Benefactors, Fiduciaries, et. al.:
“Sorry folks, but today I have, with great consternation, to take my mortal life and spiritual soul into my own hands as I exit my domicile to operate a twenty five hundred pound collection of mechanical parts (all supplied by the low bidder to Ford Motor Company, Inc.—in other words...my automobile) on my way to purchase twenty dollars worth of groceries, including things like pre-processed cheese food products (Velveeta Cheese) and possibly some coagulated, industrially mutilated corn by-product, also know as “chips.”
Since the government, via the FDA, the FDIC, and the USDA have approved the food production process, and since Ralph Nader and the other self proclaimed “consumer busybodies” have declared my twenty five hundred pound collection of mechanical parts (my automobile) to be a safe conveyance,
AND...
IF I DIE BEFORE I RETURN HOME…
Please feel free to call FOX News and CNN, and ABC and CBS and NBC on my behalf and rattle and prattle endlessly on and on about the other so called “disasters” or “human tragedies” because, besides my own mortal fatality, another 115 Americans were probably killed this day in automobile accidents.
And By the Way...I Love you all.
Where is THAT headline--where is THAT situation mentioned in the news--every single day?
Nowhere? Never?
Well...It happens people, we will kill on average 116 people every day in this country in automobile accidients.
Please slow yourself and your conveyance down, turn on your turn signals, and stop being an asshole when you are behind the wheel.
(Those of you that are courteous drivers can ignore my last sentence.)
I’m sorry ladies and gentlemen, but the media’s fascination with the West Virginia Coal mine disaster that occurred this past week still causes me to twitch and spasm when I accidentally, yet incessantly run across some STUPID ASSED NEWS STORY lamenting the horrible last hours of these desperate men that had no choice but to risk their lives to earn a living because the Bush Administration and the Republicans and Libertarians like me want people to die so that WE don’t have to pay taxes and WE are otherwise just generally insensitive to the obvious suffering of our fellow men, women, and children…
…taking a big breath…(that was supposed to be a run-on sentence)
I have a news headline that I would like to announce:
LIFE (can be) A BITCH—THEN YOU (have the God given right to) DIE.
…inhaling again…
Based on the media’s take on this story, every single day I should write my final farewell to my dear Mother, my girlfriend Pat, and the world in general.
Here is what I would write.
Dear Mom, Pat, Friends, Benefactors, Fiduciaries, et. al.:
“Sorry folks, but today I have, with great consternation, to take my mortal life and spiritual soul into my own hands as I exit my domicile to operate a twenty five hundred pound collection of mechanical parts (all supplied by the low bidder to Ford Motor Company, Inc.—in other words...my automobile) on my way to purchase twenty dollars worth of groceries, including things like pre-processed cheese food products (Velveeta Cheese) and possibly some coagulated, industrially mutilated corn by-product, also know as “chips.”
Since the government, via the FDA, the FDIC, and the USDA have approved the food production process, and since Ralph Nader and the other self proclaimed “consumer busybodies” have declared my twenty five hundred pound collection of mechanical parts (my automobile) to be a safe conveyance,
AND...
IF I DIE BEFORE I RETURN HOME…
Please feel free to call FOX News and CNN, and ABC and CBS and NBC on my behalf and rattle and prattle endlessly on and on about the other so called “disasters” or “human tragedies” because, besides my own mortal fatality, another 115 Americans were probably killed this day in automobile accidents.
And By the Way...I Love you all.
Where is THAT headline--where is THAT situation mentioned in the news--every single day?
Nowhere? Never?
Well...It happens people, we will kill on average 116 people every day in this country in automobile accidients.
Please slow yourself and your conveyance down, turn on your turn signals, and stop being an asshole when you are behind the wheel.
(Those of you that are courteous drivers can ignore my last sentence.)
Friday, January 06, 2006
Busy, Busy, Busy
I need to make a list or something
I have a full plate of activities for a change over the next couple of days, so my blogging might suffer a little as a result—but then again, maybe not, because I seem to be particularly agitated by world happenings these days (see my previous posting.)
First I have to finish the design of the set for our next dinner show at the C.A.P.E. Theater—“You’re a Good Man Charley Brown.” I attended a rehearsal last night to get a feel for the play in order to mentally complete the details of my set, and it ain’t gonna be easy.
I have to build a Doghouse for Snoopy, a “kite eating tree,” a school bus, Lucy’s psychiatric booth, Schroeder’s baby grand piano, and still have room for five adults and one teenager on a stage that is only 16’ wide. Even with the addition of two downstage 6’x8’ platforms of varying heights to increase the depth of the stage I think that things are going to be pretty tight.
The Piano and the Doghouse will probably take about 80% of my efforts. I have the piano structure figured out, but the Doghouse is kicking my butt because in spite of what the Peanuts cartoon shows, Snoopy cannot lie and sit and fight the Red Barron while perched precariously on the thin ridge line of a gable roofed doghouse.
Therein lies the problem, making a structure that looks like Snoopy’s doghouse to the audience and at the same time allows a grown woman actor that is playing the part of Snoopy to lie and sit on top. I hope that you’ll be impressed with my solution (once I come up with it.)
I had most of the materials delivered on Wednesday and got everything organized inside, but I have to work around a funeral this afternoon and the regular Sunday services (we use a church fellowship hall for rehearsals) and I’m afraid I’m going to spend as much time sweeping sawdust to clean up after myself as I will actually getting any work done.
On the home front, we are looking forward to the arrival of family tomorrow passing through on their move from Erie, PA to the Orlando area of Florida. I’m actually envious of their new residence location in St. Cloud because I think that the Orlando metro area is a pretty cool place to live.
Of course, like Atlanta did in the 1980’s, the fun down there may be wearing off shortly due to traffic clogs and general congestion that middle aged codgers like me tend to spend time and energy avoiding. Oh well, it will be fun to have three of Pat’s nine grandkids so close after years of using airline trips and rental cars to visit.
I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but if you want to go to Orlando and walk right into The Hard Rock Cafe or Sea World without standing in a line with 4,329 other tourists, fly or drive yourself into town on the Sunday after Thanksgiving, arriving about 8:00 AM.
Seriously…you can OWN the Orlando Airport, the rental car companies, and you can fire a cannon through the lobby of the resort hotels without hitting anyone anytime after noon on the Sunday after Thanksgiving because everyone’s kids have to be back in school and virtually no one does any business travel between Thanksgiving and New Years.
Actually, I should correct that statement to say that no one does business travel except for myself and the other members of the ASME STS-1 Steel Stack Subcommittee on any given Thanksgiving weekend. The American Society of Mechanical Engineers made me discover the above travel detail back in the mid and late 1990’s when they scheduled our annual meeting in Orlando starting on Monday morning after Thanksgiving. I snuck into town early on those Sunday morning because I was a sociopath and a cheapskate.
I think that most good travel destinations are easily accessible for childless curmudgeons like me whenever the kids go back to school. I spent several years making annual trips to Key West, arriving AFTER the Labor Day weekend. When we got there we found a huge traffic jam coming north on US 1 out of the Keys, and we ended up seeing about five other boats the entire time we were sailing up and down Florida Bay on a 45’ houseboat. The solitary experience was glorious when the mosquitoes weren’t eating us alive.
OK, time to decide between taking a nap or bitching some more about the West Virginia mine disaster and the NY Times and the new Congressional lobbying money scandal and the price of eggs or tea in China.
I decide, and you'll be the first to know... (snore)
I have a full plate of activities for a change over the next couple of days, so my blogging might suffer a little as a result—but then again, maybe not, because I seem to be particularly agitated by world happenings these days (see my previous posting.)
First I have to finish the design of the set for our next dinner show at the C.A.P.E. Theater—“You’re a Good Man Charley Brown.” I attended a rehearsal last night to get a feel for the play in order to mentally complete the details of my set, and it ain’t gonna be easy.
I have to build a Doghouse for Snoopy, a “kite eating tree,” a school bus, Lucy’s psychiatric booth, Schroeder’s baby grand piano, and still have room for five adults and one teenager on a stage that is only 16’ wide. Even with the addition of two downstage 6’x8’ platforms of varying heights to increase the depth of the stage I think that things are going to be pretty tight.
The Piano and the Doghouse will probably take about 80% of my efforts. I have the piano structure figured out, but the Doghouse is kicking my butt because in spite of what the Peanuts cartoon shows, Snoopy cannot lie and sit and fight the Red Barron while perched precariously on the thin ridge line of a gable roofed doghouse.
Therein lies the problem, making a structure that looks like Snoopy’s doghouse to the audience and at the same time allows a grown woman actor that is playing the part of Snoopy to lie and sit on top. I hope that you’ll be impressed with my solution (once I come up with it.)
I had most of the materials delivered on Wednesday and got everything organized inside, but I have to work around a funeral this afternoon and the regular Sunday services (we use a church fellowship hall for rehearsals) and I’m afraid I’m going to spend as much time sweeping sawdust to clean up after myself as I will actually getting any work done.
On the home front, we are looking forward to the arrival of family tomorrow passing through on their move from Erie, PA to the Orlando area of Florida. I’m actually envious of their new residence location in St. Cloud because I think that the Orlando metro area is a pretty cool place to live.
Of course, like Atlanta did in the 1980’s, the fun down there may be wearing off shortly due to traffic clogs and general congestion that middle aged codgers like me tend to spend time and energy avoiding. Oh well, it will be fun to have three of Pat’s nine grandkids so close after years of using airline trips and rental cars to visit.
I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but if you want to go to Orlando and walk right into The Hard Rock Cafe or Sea World without standing in a line with 4,329 other tourists, fly or drive yourself into town on the Sunday after Thanksgiving, arriving about 8:00 AM.
Seriously…you can OWN the Orlando Airport, the rental car companies, and you can fire a cannon through the lobby of the resort hotels without hitting anyone anytime after noon on the Sunday after Thanksgiving because everyone’s kids have to be back in school and virtually no one does any business travel between Thanksgiving and New Years.
Actually, I should correct that statement to say that no one does business travel except for myself and the other members of the ASME STS-1 Steel Stack Subcommittee on any given Thanksgiving weekend. The American Society of Mechanical Engineers made me discover the above travel detail back in the mid and late 1990’s when they scheduled our annual meeting in Orlando starting on Monday morning after Thanksgiving. I snuck into town early on those Sunday morning because I was a sociopath and a cheapskate.
I think that most good travel destinations are easily accessible for childless curmudgeons like me whenever the kids go back to school. I spent several years making annual trips to Key West, arriving AFTER the Labor Day weekend. When we got there we found a huge traffic jam coming north on US 1 out of the Keys, and we ended up seeing about five other boats the entire time we were sailing up and down Florida Bay on a 45’ houseboat. The solitary experience was glorious when the mosquitoes weren’t eating us alive.
OK, time to decide between taking a nap or bitching some more about the West Virginia mine disaster and the NY Times and the new Congressional lobbying money scandal and the price of eggs or tea in China.
I decide, and you'll be the first to know... (snore)
“Traumatizing The Inside Of The Prime Minister’s Head”
That’s the exact words I just heard on FOX News, regarding the deteriorating condition of Israel’s PM Sharon and the necessity of doing a THIRD brain surgery this morning.
What bothers me is that they said it like “traumatizing the inside of someone’s head” was a bad thing.
I HAVE A QUESTION…
What about the news people “traumatizing the inside” OF MY HEAD?
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
What bothers me is that they said it like “traumatizing the inside of someone’s head” was a bad thing.
I HAVE A QUESTION…
What about the news people “traumatizing the inside” OF MY HEAD?
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
Thursday, January 05, 2006
A Darn Good Cause
I wish I Owned A Sewing Machine...
My blog Idols over at Power Line today pointed out the Sew much comfort website that coordinates the production of "adaptive clothing" that will fit over and around various casts and braces that soldiers wounded in Iraq, Afghanistan, and other fields of combat need once they return home.
Imagine spending weeks if not months in a hospital gown with your butt hanging out for everyone to see?
Imagine having your family and friends attend the ceremony where you receive your Metal of Honor or your Purple Heart sitting in a hospital gown?
We can't have that now, can we?
If you can sew or you know someone that can sew, how about pointing this site out and getting them to help out?
If I owned a sewing machine, I would be loading a bobbin right now...
My blog Idols over at Power Line today pointed out the Sew much comfort website that coordinates the production of "adaptive clothing" that will fit over and around various casts and braces that soldiers wounded in Iraq, Afghanistan, and other fields of combat need once they return home.
Imagine spending weeks if not months in a hospital gown with your butt hanging out for everyone to see?
Imagine having your family and friends attend the ceremony where you receive your Metal of Honor or your Purple Heart sitting in a hospital gown?
We can't have that now, can we?
If you can sew or you know someone that can sew, how about pointing this site out and getting them to help out?
If I owned a sewing machine, I would be loading a bobbin right now...
They’re Making Me Cranky
Saving Ourselves From Ourselves...
Remember that I consider myself—politically—to be a libertarian?
That said, then you probably won’t be surprised that I have more than a little problem with things like our ever expanding traffic laws.
Take seatbelt laws for instance.
Not for laws protecting kids here, I’m talking about laws that require that GROWN ADULTS protect their own lives else pay the government a fine—what I call a FEE FOR STUPIDITY.
I’m against it…I’m against them…seat belt laws…that is.
I think that seat belt laws force us all to continue to be assaulted by stupid, careless people that God would have otherwise eliminated from our population years ago.
For me personally, it is a no brainer that I should want to strap myself tightly inside when I am hurling down a ribbon of concrete or asphalt in a two or three ton wad of steel and plastic, surrounded by wild eyed morons that on a GOOD day can't do their multiplication tables past 7 x7=48. (hah... it really equals 49.)
These same people will get on a Delta jet and sit with their toddler unrestrained in their lap to save the price of an extra airline ticket, and their beloved government officials allow that practice to remain legal.
If these people were Zebras or Thompson’s Gazell, all of the smart lions and Hyenas would have chased them down (or waited for them to trip over their own hooves and fall down) and chewed up their miserable carcases at the first opportunity years ago.
Think of all of the extra oxygen and real estate that could be available here on the planet for the rest of us to use as a result when it was all said and done?
Any howwwww...
Out here on St. Simons we have an ongoing conflict relating to traffic accidents, and some of the solutions that are being proposed are absurd, actually bordering on rediculous.
You see, our island’s population is exploding, on an exponential basis, and all of the Yankees and many of the Rednecks that live here or visit here on vacation are starting to bitch and complain because we have…
Gasp…Traffic.
No, make that TRAFFIC!
On our little island where 20% of the roads are still dirt (what you call “unpaved” in NY City), our population bulges from about 16,000 in the “off season” to somewhere over 30,000 in the summer and on holiday weekends.
The roads that are paved are barely two lanes wide, the maximum speed limit is only 45 MPH, and most of the roads have giant live Oak trees situated two inches off the roadway.
These ancient Oaks bear the scars of the effects of morons driving into them, bouncing off of them, or attempting to slide their 50’ Winnebago past decapitating their mother-in-law in the process.
The only road connecting mainland Georgia with St. Simons is called the Torras Causeway, named for a prominent local engineer that surveyed the route for the road back in the 1930’s. Until the original two lane Torras Causeway was completed back in the dark ages, two Ferry Boats—The Emeline & Hessy—provided the service bringing visitors and supplies to and from the island.
Today the Torras Causeway is four lanes wide, and the speed limit has been raised to150 50 MPH. This approximately 5 mile long causeway does not have a center divider, but rather only has a narrow smooth concrete median and THEREIN LIES THE PROBLEM.
In the past 90 days there have been three head on collisions that completely closed down the Torras Causeway in both directions for several hours during the morning rush hour. Teachers were late for class, most of our legal and illegal Mexican construction workers were late to their job sites, and several city councilmen were tardy for important functions like pedicures and TV interviews.
So now our local rocket scientists, working in conjunction with state and Federal officials, have decided to invent a solution to our traffic problem on the Torras Causeway.
Are you ready?
Do you want to know their proposed solution to help improve driver safety on a road where the average driver exceeds the speed limit by 20 MPH and TWO of the three recent accidents were caused by illegal Mexican immigrants operating a company vehicle without a valid Georgia drivers license?
(May I have a drum roll here please?)
A BAN ON CELL PHONE USAGE.
That’s right, ladies and gentlemen, if people will just stop talking on their cell phones while traversing the marsh on their way to and from St. Simons island, the motoring public of Georgia can rest better at home each evening knowing that their public officials are earning their pay.
Here's what they say:
Motorists crossing the F.J. Torras Causeway between St. Simons Island and the mainland could soon face new restrictions designed to improve traffic safety.
A group of city and county officials will meet Tuesday with Georgia Department of Transportation staff members in Atlanta and propose such measures as a prohibition on cell phone use and installation of rumble strips and video cameras to monitor traffic.
"This has been needed a long time," said David Carswell, a Brunswick police lieutenant who helped put together a plan of improvements.
He said the plan, which will be presented to the county commissioners at a regular commission meeting Thursday, would greatly reduce the number of accidents on the causeway. Last year there were 72.
County Commissioner Uli Keller said the restriction of cell phone use on the causeway would help drivers pay attention to the road.
"A majority of inattentive driving is due to cell phones," he said. "They're probably concentrating on the conversation more than the traffic."
Bull f**king Shit. (sorry Mom and Pat, but no other words adequately cover this situation…)
FIRST of all, if the Glynn county police department started busting ass, 24/7, enforcing the speed limit on the Torras Causeway, 99% of the problems would be eliminated. As I’ve said before, I used to be a wild eyed speeding moron with TWO radar detectors and a cinder block foot on my car’s throttle, but I’ve put that part of my motoring experience behind me.
Today I drive like my dad did in his day…speed limit...
cruise control...
no problem.
I spend my time here on St. Simons playing a game I call “Train.”
For my part, I’m the train's engine in my car, driving along EXACTLY at the speed limit, and ALL of the other idiots on the road behind me are train cars and the last one speeding along that comes roaring up on my ass gets to be “the Caboose.”
I have a great time because by thinking of this game I avoid bursting a blood vessel shouting at the asshole that is driving so close to my bumper that I can't see his/her grill and headlights.
Life might suck because of drivers like me for some people, but I didn’t leave the insanity of Atlanta, Georgia after 27 years of losing my mind in commuter traffic to come down here to the Georgia coast and be in a hurry.
I’M NOT IN A HURRY. You got that?
I...
AM...
NOT...
IN A....
HURRY...
This damn island is only 11 miles long and 4 miles wide, and by my calculations if I drive 20 miles an hour over the speed limit I can get home 15 seconds faster than if I obey the speed limit.
It's not worth it.
It’s a no brainer for me here people.
WE DO NOT NEED YET ANOTHER LAW TO SOLVE THIS PROBLEM.
DAMN THE GOVERNMENT, and Uli Keller is my County Commissioner and he will be hearing from me (again) this week.
Now what is that E-mail address???
Remember that I consider myself—politically—to be a libertarian?
That said, then you probably won’t be surprised that I have more than a little problem with things like our ever expanding traffic laws.
Take seatbelt laws for instance.
Not for laws protecting kids here, I’m talking about laws that require that GROWN ADULTS protect their own lives else pay the government a fine—what I call a FEE FOR STUPIDITY.
I’m against it…I’m against them…seat belt laws…that is.
I think that seat belt laws force us all to continue to be assaulted by stupid, careless people that God would have otherwise eliminated from our population years ago.
For me personally, it is a no brainer that I should want to strap myself tightly inside when I am hurling down a ribbon of concrete or asphalt in a two or three ton wad of steel and plastic, surrounded by wild eyed morons that on a GOOD day can't do their multiplication tables past 7 x7=48. (hah... it really equals 49.)
These same people will get on a Delta jet and sit with their toddler unrestrained in their lap to save the price of an extra airline ticket, and their beloved government officials allow that practice to remain legal.
If these people were Zebras or Thompson’s Gazell, all of the smart lions and Hyenas would have chased them down (or waited for them to trip over their own hooves and fall down) and chewed up their miserable carcases at the first opportunity years ago.
Think of all of the extra oxygen and real estate that could be available here on the planet for the rest of us to use as a result when it was all said and done?
Any howwwww...
Out here on St. Simons we have an ongoing conflict relating to traffic accidents, and some of the solutions that are being proposed are absurd, actually bordering on rediculous.
You see, our island’s population is exploding, on an exponential basis, and all of the Yankees and many of the Rednecks that live here or visit here on vacation are starting to bitch and complain because we have…
Gasp…Traffic.
No, make that TRAFFIC!
On our little island where 20% of the roads are still dirt (what you call “unpaved” in NY City), our population bulges from about 16,000 in the “off season” to somewhere over 30,000 in the summer and on holiday weekends.
The roads that are paved are barely two lanes wide, the maximum speed limit is only 45 MPH, and most of the roads have giant live Oak trees situated two inches off the roadway.
These ancient Oaks bear the scars of the effects of morons driving into them, bouncing off of them, or attempting to slide their 50’ Winnebago past decapitating their mother-in-law in the process.
The only road connecting mainland Georgia with St. Simons is called the Torras Causeway, named for a prominent local engineer that surveyed the route for the road back in the 1930’s. Until the original two lane Torras Causeway was completed back in the dark ages, two Ferry Boats—The Emeline & Hessy—provided the service bringing visitors and supplies to and from the island.
Today the Torras Causeway is four lanes wide, and the speed limit has been raised to
In the past 90 days there have been three head on collisions that completely closed down the Torras Causeway in both directions for several hours during the morning rush hour. Teachers were late for class, most of our legal and illegal Mexican construction workers were late to their job sites, and several city councilmen were tardy for important functions like pedicures and TV interviews.
So now our local rocket scientists, working in conjunction with state and Federal officials, have decided to invent a solution to our traffic problem on the Torras Causeway.
Are you ready?
Do you want to know their proposed solution to help improve driver safety on a road where the average driver exceeds the speed limit by 20 MPH and TWO of the three recent accidents were caused by illegal Mexican immigrants operating a company vehicle without a valid Georgia drivers license?
(May I have a drum roll here please?)
A BAN ON CELL PHONE USAGE.
That’s right, ladies and gentlemen, if people will just stop talking on their cell phones while traversing the marsh on their way to and from St. Simons island, the motoring public of Georgia can rest better at home each evening knowing that their public officials are earning their pay.
Here's what they say:
Motorists crossing the F.J. Torras Causeway between St. Simons Island and the mainland could soon face new restrictions designed to improve traffic safety.
A group of city and county officials will meet Tuesday with Georgia Department of Transportation staff members in Atlanta and propose such measures as a prohibition on cell phone use and installation of rumble strips and video cameras to monitor traffic.
"This has been needed a long time," said David Carswell, a Brunswick police lieutenant who helped put together a plan of improvements.
He said the plan, which will be presented to the county commissioners at a regular commission meeting Thursday, would greatly reduce the number of accidents on the causeway. Last year there were 72.
County Commissioner Uli Keller said the restriction of cell phone use on the causeway would help drivers pay attention to the road.
"A majority of inattentive driving is due to cell phones," he said. "They're probably concentrating on the conversation more than the traffic."
Bull f**king Shit. (sorry Mom and Pat, but no other words adequately cover this situation…)
FIRST of all, if the Glynn county police department started busting ass, 24/7, enforcing the speed limit on the Torras Causeway, 99% of the problems would be eliminated. As I’ve said before, I used to be a wild eyed speeding moron with TWO radar detectors and a cinder block foot on my car’s throttle, but I’ve put that part of my motoring experience behind me.
Today I drive like my dad did in his day…speed limit...
cruise control...
no problem.
I spend my time here on St. Simons playing a game I call “Train.”
For my part, I’m the train's engine in my car, driving along EXACTLY at the speed limit, and ALL of the other idiots on the road behind me are train cars and the last one speeding along that comes roaring up on my ass gets to be “the Caboose.”
I have a great time because by thinking of this game I avoid bursting a blood vessel shouting at the asshole that is driving so close to my bumper that I can't see his/her grill and headlights.
Life might suck because of drivers like me for some people, but I didn’t leave the insanity of Atlanta, Georgia after 27 years of losing my mind in commuter traffic to come down here to the Georgia coast and be in a hurry.
I’M NOT IN A HURRY. You got that?
I...
AM...
NOT...
IN A....
HURRY...
This damn island is only 11 miles long and 4 miles wide, and by my calculations if I drive 20 miles an hour over the speed limit I can get home 15 seconds faster than if I obey the speed limit.
It's not worth it.
It’s a no brainer for me here people.
WE DO NOT NEED YET ANOTHER LAW TO SOLVE THIS PROBLEM.
DAMN THE GOVERNMENT, and Uli Keller is my County Commissioner and he will be hearing from me (again) this week.
Now what is that E-mail address???
Wednesday, January 04, 2006
Geraldo Disappears
Funny thing here...Geraldo Rivera was all over the West Virginia mining accident story at midnight--hooting and hollaring on a satellite phone as the word broke that 12 miners were still alive. He had supposedly just drove up near the church when the celebration broke out.
Then the story changed drastically, all but one of the miners were dead, and Geraldo just...
Disappeared. Poof, flash...gone...
What is up with that?
Did he too get trapped in a mineshaft?
Did he find Jimmy Hoffa's vault again?
Just wondering....
Then the story changed drastically, all but one of the miners were dead, and Geraldo just...
Disappeared. Poof, flash...gone...
What is up with that?
Did he too get trapped in a mineshaft?
Did he find Jimmy Hoffa's vault again?
Just wondering....
Things I Wish I'd Said
I was looking around the web and found these wonderful quotes from Mark Twain:
Under certain circumstances, profanity provides a relief denied even to prayer
Part of the secret of a success in life is to eat what you like and let the food fight it out inside.
It is better to deserve honors and not have them than to have them and not deserve them.
Let us be thankful for the fools. But for them the rest of us could not succeed.
You can't depend on your eyes when your imagination is out of focus.
First, God created idiots. That was just for practice. Then He created school boards.
Clothes make the man. Naked people have little or no influence on society.
Suppose you were an idiot... And suppose you were a member of Congress... But I repeat myself
Why shouldn't truth be stranger than fiction? Fiction, after all, has to make sense.
Dance like no one is watching. Sing like no one is listening. Love like you've never been hurt and live like it's heaven on Earth.
If you tell the truth you don't have to remember anything
Sacred cows make the best hamburger.
Never tell the truth to people who are not worthy of it.
It's not the size of the dog in the fight, it's the size of the fight in the dog.
When I was a boy of 14, my father was so ignorant I could hardly stand to have the old man around. But when I got to be 21, I was astonished at how much the old man had learned in seven years.
When angry count four; when very angry, swear.
The holy passion of Friendship is of so sweet and steady and loyal and enduring a nature that it will last through a whole lifetime, if not asked to lend money.
I have never let my schooling interfere with my education
Denial ain't just a river in Egypt.
The only way to keep your health is to eat what you don't want, drink what you don't like, and do what you'd rather not.
One of the striking differences between a cat and a lie is that a cat has only nine lives.
Grief can take care of itself, but to get the full value of joy you must have somebody to divide it with.
I didn't have time to write a short letter, so I wrote a long one instead.
And Finally...
The man who doesn't read good books has no advantage over the man who can't read them.
Under certain circumstances, profanity provides a relief denied even to prayer
Part of the secret of a success in life is to eat what you like and let the food fight it out inside.
It is better to deserve honors and not have them than to have them and not deserve them.
Let us be thankful for the fools. But for them the rest of us could not succeed.
You can't depend on your eyes when your imagination is out of focus.
First, God created idiots. That was just for practice. Then He created school boards.
Clothes make the man. Naked people have little or no influence on society.
Suppose you were an idiot... And suppose you were a member of Congress... But I repeat myself
Why shouldn't truth be stranger than fiction? Fiction, after all, has to make sense.
Dance like no one is watching. Sing like no one is listening. Love like you've never been hurt and live like it's heaven on Earth.
If you tell the truth you don't have to remember anything
Sacred cows make the best hamburger.
Never tell the truth to people who are not worthy of it.
It's not the size of the dog in the fight, it's the size of the fight in the dog.
When I was a boy of 14, my father was so ignorant I could hardly stand to have the old man around. But when I got to be 21, I was astonished at how much the old man had learned in seven years.
When angry count four; when very angry, swear.
The holy passion of Friendship is of so sweet and steady and loyal and enduring a nature that it will last through a whole lifetime, if not asked to lend money.
I have never let my schooling interfere with my education
Denial ain't just a river in Egypt.
The only way to keep your health is to eat what you don't want, drink what you don't like, and do what you'd rather not.
One of the striking differences between a cat and a lie is that a cat has only nine lives.
Grief can take care of itself, but to get the full value of joy you must have somebody to divide it with.
I didn't have time to write a short letter, so I wrote a long one instead.
And Finally...
The man who doesn't read good books has no advantage over the man who can't read them.
The Report Of My Death Was An Exaggeration
I love the work of Samuel Clemmons. You know…Mark Twain…the author of “Tom Sawyer” and “Huckleberry Finn.” He actually wrote several million more words than contained in those two books, but that is about as far as most people ever get into his repertoire.
I often wish that I could have lived in the earlier, easier times Mr. Clemmons lived in during the 1800’s. I think that I would have fit in better back then. Of course the idea of any time in history being “earlier” and “easier” is a matter of perspective—hindsight being 20/20 and all that…
My title of this posting comes from Mr. Twain’s words that are very popular but are often slightly misquoted. Here is the actual wording:
“James Ross Clemens, a cousin of mine was seriously ill two or three weeks ago in London but is well now. The report of my illness grew out of his illness. The report of my death was an exaggeration.”
I’ve seen this quotation reproduced, mis-quoted, and otherwise mutilated many times before, but I believe that the above wording is accurate.
In addition to Clemmons being a well known writer, he was also a media critic in his day. He worked for newspapers, he knew news people, and, like me, he knew that many if not most “reporters” were idiots.
I’ve just spent another couple of hours watching the professional media “piranhas” attack West Virginia Governor Joe Manchin at his press conference following the statements of the Bennett K. Hatfield, CEO of International Coal group.
Twelve people are dead, but the reporters are circling the bloody water looking for who or what to blame for the mistaken news of survival reported earlier. All they have to do is look in the mirror to find the answer. I’m afraid that I fall into this same group since I jumped on this Blog at midnight and repeated the news that I had gotten—SECOND HAND.
This kind of thing would have probably never happened in Mark Twain’s day—a time before an instant, 24/7 news cycle.
Heck, it probably wouldn’t have happened in the 1970’s or 80’s.
Gosh do I ever long for the days before fax machines, Federal Express, and E-mail. Yes, sometimes it’s damn convientant to have instant gratification via electronics and technology, but often times it’s better to let things cool off a little, sleep on it overnight while you consider what you’re thinking and what you’re going to say as a result.
My heart goes out to the families of these twelve men that elected to make their living working underground. The media is going to spin in circles and flap their arms and raise general hell about the accident and the secondary story of the survivors that ended up being dead in the end.
Some poor woman stated in an interview that she intended to sue the mining company for the error? On what basis? She can certainly sue if the company is proven negligent, but can she sue simply because she spent an extra three hours believing that her husband was alive when he had actually succumbed to carbon monoxide poisoning hours before?
They will probably assault the safety record of this mining company and portray the EVIL capitalists in the business of making money at the risk of life and limb of innocent Democrats that continue to elect Robert “Pretty Pretty” Byrd to the US Senate. Jay Rockefeller will probably have to convene a Congressional investigation as a result.
In the end, it will be much ado about nothing—except a tragic day in the mining business.
My Grandfather elected to go to work in the Red Parrot coal mine in Prenter, West Virginia in the 1920’s because it was the best paying job in his little part of the world. My relatives today choose to work underground in the mines or drive giant coal trucks down crappy, winding, twisting roads in Ohio and West Virginia because that job is better than no job and they think that the higher pay justifies the risks that they choose to take.
Where I come from, you make your choices, and you accept responsibility for the outcome.
We don’t need government and the media to insulate us from life’s realities.
I often wish that I could have lived in the earlier, easier times Mr. Clemmons lived in during the 1800’s. I think that I would have fit in better back then. Of course the idea of any time in history being “earlier” and “easier” is a matter of perspective—hindsight being 20/20 and all that…
My title of this posting comes from Mr. Twain’s words that are very popular but are often slightly misquoted. Here is the actual wording:
“James Ross Clemens, a cousin of mine was seriously ill two or three weeks ago in London but is well now. The report of my illness grew out of his illness. The report of my death was an exaggeration.”
I’ve seen this quotation reproduced, mis-quoted, and otherwise mutilated many times before, but I believe that the above wording is accurate.
In addition to Clemmons being a well known writer, he was also a media critic in his day. He worked for newspapers, he knew news people, and, like me, he knew that many if not most “reporters” were idiots.
I’ve just spent another couple of hours watching the professional media “piranhas” attack West Virginia Governor Joe Manchin at his press conference following the statements of the Bennett K. Hatfield, CEO of International Coal group.
Twelve people are dead, but the reporters are circling the bloody water looking for who or what to blame for the mistaken news of survival reported earlier. All they have to do is look in the mirror to find the answer. I’m afraid that I fall into this same group since I jumped on this Blog at midnight and repeated the news that I had gotten—SECOND HAND.
This kind of thing would have probably never happened in Mark Twain’s day—a time before an instant, 24/7 news cycle.
Heck, it probably wouldn’t have happened in the 1970’s or 80’s.
Gosh do I ever long for the days before fax machines, Federal Express, and E-mail. Yes, sometimes it’s damn convientant to have instant gratification via electronics and technology, but often times it’s better to let things cool off a little, sleep on it overnight while you consider what you’re thinking and what you’re going to say as a result.
My heart goes out to the families of these twelve men that elected to make their living working underground. The media is going to spin in circles and flap their arms and raise general hell about the accident and the secondary story of the survivors that ended up being dead in the end.
Some poor woman stated in an interview that she intended to sue the mining company for the error? On what basis? She can certainly sue if the company is proven negligent, but can she sue simply because she spent an extra three hours believing that her husband was alive when he had actually succumbed to carbon monoxide poisoning hours before?
They will probably assault the safety record of this mining company and portray the EVIL capitalists in the business of making money at the risk of life and limb of innocent Democrats that continue to elect Robert “Pretty Pretty” Byrd to the US Senate. Jay Rockefeller will probably have to convene a Congressional investigation as a result.
In the end, it will be much ado about nothing—except a tragic day in the mining business.
My Grandfather elected to go to work in the Red Parrot coal mine in Prenter, West Virginia in the 1920’s because it was the best paying job in his little part of the world. My relatives today choose to work underground in the mines or drive giant coal trucks down crappy, winding, twisting roads in Ohio and West Virginia because that job is better than no job and they think that the higher pay justifies the risks that they choose to take.
Where I come from, you make your choices, and you accept responsibility for the outcome.
We don’t need government and the media to insulate us from life’s realities.
