Help Me Get A Few Things Straight Here

Hurray...It's Time For A Good Rant


OK, I've Evidently Not Been Paying Attention. So the news is that the new Pope Benedict delivered a speech in Europe and therein referenced some ancient commentary in the process?

And now things are on fire all over the Muslim world and the Pope's life has been threatened by some guy wearing what appears to be household linens on his head and in need of a nice close shave?

Here’s the Link to the story, and here’s the so-called offending words:

The New York Times wrote, "He began his speech, by quoting a 14th-century Byzantine emperor, Manuel 11 Paleologus, in a conversation with a 'learned Persian' on Christianity and Islam — 'and the truth of both.'"

“Show me just what Muhammad brought that was new, and there you will find things only evil and inhuman [emphasis mine], such as his command to spread the sword by the faith he preached,” the pope quoted the emperor, in a speech to 1,500 students and faculty.

The Times continued, "He went on to say that violent conversion to Islam was contrary to reason and thus 'contrary to God’s nature.'"

So am I missing something?

If so, will somebody jump in and 'splain it to me?

Sometime back in the 1300’s some unelected in-bred fool in Rome had a meeting and wrote something on papyrus or on a stone tablet, and the Pope referenced it 706 years later in a speech at a German University, and as a result the Muslims feel like they have the right to run out and riot in the streets and otherwise go ape shit?

“Hey…that dang Catholic Pope called us names...said that we were barbarians, so we’re gonna burn everything down and issue a fatwa on his bead jiggling ass…”

How amazingly poetic.

IF I were a lawyer (which I’m not), and IF I were trying this issue in court rather than on the liberal world stage and in the copy room of the NY times, all I would have to say is:

“I rest my case, your Honor…”

"Ye shall know the Tree by it's Fruit" or something like that comes to mind.

And while we're speaking of tin hat dictators, next I have to mention President Bush’s visit to New York and speech before the UN general assembly today.

I watched it live.

Did you?

All I have to say after viewing the President's elite audience is this:

“What a totally miserable, stupid looking bunch of ungrateful freaks.”

There...I said it...you know that I've told you I don't keep anything inside when it's the TRUTH.

Seriously, most of the assembled group of “diplomads” and other “gumerent officials” looked like they could have served as extras in the "Mos Eisley Cantina" scene from the original Star Wars Movie. You remember these guys don’t you:





I’m pretty darn sure that I saw those guys perched out there between the Israeli and the Palestinian Ambassadors, draining their spit valves and getting ready to fire up a tune at intermission.

Rather than sitting upright and paying attention to what our President was saying, it looked like most of them were asleep or otherwise rolling their eyes around the miserable heads like 8th grade students in biology class.

All most of these aliens dang foreigners want is for the US taxpayers to send them our cash, and then get the hell out of their way in their day to day dealings with the world and their own citizens.

US subsidized rape and pillaging, courtesy of the United Nations...isn't that special?

My solution to this situation would be for the US to do the following:

A. Immediately stop paying our UN “dues”. The result would be an instant 26% reduction in their budget.

B. Place President Bush on the UN podium with his pants down around his knees, and any leader or ambassador that refuses to kiss his lily white hairy butt and apologize for their behavior today would get exactly ZERO DOLLARS in US foreign aid for the next 365 days.

Next, after the “Kissing of the President’s Butt” ceremony, I would propose that any country or little tinned hat dictator that so much as puts a little toe out of line or does any saber rattling like Iran and that little troll that runs Korea insists on doing would NEVER EVER see another dime of our taxpayer’s money.

Zero.

Zilch.

Nada.

I bet that there would be mobs with pitchforks and torches outside the statehouses of a least a couple of dozen piece-of-shit UN member countries by sometime between now and New Years Eve.

I'm sorry people, but I still say that sometimes you have to seriously think about killing them all, and then let God sort them out, because I'm really tired of all of this touchy feely political corectness crap--it makes my head hurt.

AAAAhhhhhhhh ahhhhhhhhh Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh Thunk (the sound of me falling off my chair)

That will be all for now…

More Distractions

I'm Helping The Pope With Public Relations


Actually if it's up to me...the Pope is on his own, because I spent most of the day worrying about Nerdy stuff like this (just glance at it, else your eyes will glaze over and you'll collapse into some sort of catatonic state:


Theory of Discharge in an Orifice


The Roman engineer Frontinus, who was in charge of the water supply under Augustus, used short pipes of graduated sizes to meter water delivered to different users.


This was purely empirical, since the effects of pressure, or "head," and orifice size were not known quantitatively until Torricelli, in 1643, showed that the velocity of efflux was given by Vi = √2gh. We still calculate the velocity from Bernoulli's principle, that h + p/ρg + V2/2, is a constant along a streamline in irrotational flow, which is equivalent to the conservation of energy.


We'll consider here the case of zero initial velocity, as at the surface of a liquid in a container with an orifice in the side. We assume that a streamline starts at the surface, a distance h above the orifice, and neglect the pressure on the surface of the liquid, since it would cancel out anyway. The streamline then leads somehow to the orifice, and out into the jet that issues from it. We choose the point at which the streamlines are parallel a short distance from the orifice, and find that the velocity there is Vi = √2gh, as given by Torricelli's theorem.


A jet surrounded only by air (or another fluid of small density) is called a free jet, and is acted upon by gravity. A jet surrounded by fluid is called a submerged jet. If the fluid is the same as that of the jet, then buoyancy eliminates the effect of gravity on it. A submerged jet is also subject to much greater friction at its boundary. We shall consider here only free jets of water, and neglect the viscosity of water, which is small, but finite.


A cross section of a circular orifice of diameter Do is shown. The thickness of the wall is assumed small compared to the diameter of the orifice. Because of the convergence of the streamlines approaching the orifice, the cross section of the jet decreases slightly until the pressure is equalized over the cross-section, and the velocity profile is nearly rectangular.

This point of minimum area is called the vena contracta. Beyond the vena contracta, friction with the fluid outside the jet (air) slows it down, and the cross section increases perforce. This divergence is usually quite small, and the jet is nearly cylindrical with a constant velocity. The jet is held together by surface tension, of course, which has a stronger effect the smaller the diameter of the jet.

The area A of the vena contracta is smaller than the area Ao of the orifice because the velocity is higher there (converging streamlines). For a sharp-edged, or "ideal" circular orifice, A/Ao = Cc = π/(π + 2) = 0.611. Cc is called the coefficient of contraction. For a sharp orifice, is usually estimated to be 0.62, a figure that can be used if the exact value is not known. For an orifice that resembles a short tube, Cc = 1, but then there are turbulence losses that affect the discharge.

The average velocity V is defined so that it gives the correct rate of discharge when it is assumed constant over the vena contracta, or Q = VA. Then, we can write V = CvVi, where Cv is the coefficient of velocity. The coefficient of velocity is usually quite high, between 0.95 and 0.99. Combining the results of this paragraph and the preceding one, the discharge Q = VA = CvViCcAo = CdAoVi. Cd, the coefficient of discharge, allows us to use the ideal velocity and the orifice area in calculating the discharge.

Aren't you happy that I'm worring about such things so that you don't have to?

Well...You're quite welcome...

Another Golden Oldie

Hurricane Preparations


I'm stuffed and lazy this evening, and in the process of doing some blog maintenance, I ran across some things I wrote a couple of years ago that I thought were funny.

Here's one example of what I wrote in my first month of blogging back on August 14th, 2004:

Two hurricanes in one week (well, actually one hurricane and one tropical storm) certainly is a good formula to take your mind off of a number of life's frivolous distractions--particularly if you live on or near the coast of the Southeastern US during the summer months.

Don't you just love the gleam a good 145 MPH wind puts in the eyes of the local TV weather nerds and the gloating staff of "The Weather Channel?"

I personally prefer a good weather news story a great deal more than I like following the sexual antics and mis-behaviors of some overpaid athlete and their remorseful female conquest or the endless saga of some poor, photogenic wife whom has paid the ultimate price as the victim of her bad life partner choice.

The present movement of Hurricane Charley is of particular interest to me and my neighbors as it slides across the Florida pennesula this evening toward our homes on St. Simons Island, Georgia.

Current local forecasts are for winds only in the fifty to seventy MPH range. The minor storm surge is probably our biggest concern here as most of the island is two feet below the government's so called flood plain and there is only one low lying road connecting the island to the mainland.

Having been a coastal resident since only this past March, I find myself in the early stages of learning the habits and behaviors that will allow me to successfully negotiate the intricacies of storm preparation and, God forbid, evacuation in advance of an approaching storm.

I've found that many other longer time residents are in the same boat (excuse the pun.)

You see, the Georgia coast enjoys the distinction of rarely bearing the brunt of tropical weather of the type and severity that Florida and North Carolina does each year.

We are, however, tittillatted every three or four years with the possibility of the strike of a bona-fide doosie of a storm. It seems that I have arrived back home from a vacation in Chicago today just in time for such an event.

The thing that is most striking to me thus far is the reality that many if not most people absolutely lose their blankin' minds upon even the hint of the approach of a major storm.

For instance, I made a trip to the grocery store this afternoon to pick up a few last minute items--having spent several weeks out of town and arriving with the storm possibly only a half-day away. The first sign of trouble was that the grocery lot was virtually full of autos and SUV's upon my arrival.

The next obvious clue was the availablilty of only three shopping carts inside the front door of the store.

The place was an absolute madhouse filled with wildeyed senior citizens and soccer moms who were careening wildly up and down the isles, their carts each filled with bales of toilet paper, paper towels, bottled water, and on most occasions--TWO OR THREE LOAVES of bread.

The biggest personal blow was that the Peter Pan peanut butter was sold out entirely (I had to buy Jiff.)

Now I ask you, what makes normally rational people believe that they are actually going to go through two or three jars of peanut butter and three loaves of bread in the one or two days that a storm this size and path could cut us off from civilization?

If they do eat all of that peanut butter, they will be so stopped up they could never possibly use an entire case of toilet paper, could they?

In an effort to document my current experiences and assist any future coastal residents in the art of Hurricane preparedness, I would like to offer my own list of Do's and Don'ts:

Do listen to local weather broadcasts every few hours in order to stay up to date on the storm's location, forecast storm track, and any evacuation orders that may be issued.

Don't go to the local bar hours before the storm roars into your neighborhood and get shitfaced drinking kamikaze shots or a half dozen long island ice teas before heading home to tackle hanging that truck load of plywood you just bought at Home Depot over your windows and doors.

Do put together a basic hurricane supply kit including drinking water, prescription medicines, first aid kit, canned foods, flashlight and spare batteries, battery powered radio, etc.

Don't think that you're prepared when your hurricane kit simply includes a twelve-pack of warm beer, a fifth of tequilla, a couple of half burned candles from the last storm warning , an old Bic lighter, and an inflatable raft with one broken oar.

Do gas up the car or SUV and move it to high ground prior to the local roads being closed.

Don't venture out during the storm onto flooded roads in high winds at break kneck speeds in an attempt to recreate Lt. Dan's hurricane scene in the movie "Forrest Gump."

Do move your boat onto it's trailer and secure it in a safe storage area. Relocate larger boats away from docks, pileings, and other boats and double/triple anchor them in place.

Don't think you are going to weather out the storm on board your boat with your warm twelve-pack and fifth of tequilla. (You will end up dead or be seen on CNN by all of your friends and family--you'll be the one hanging by a cable underneath a Coast Guard helicopter.)

Got to go outside to check out the weather again Charley's back offshore in the Atlantic and the eye is tightening up again, more later...



I'll leave it up to you to judge if my writing style and ability has improved any in the past couple of years, but I find it nice to fall back on some old thoughts when the new ones are few and far between...

I'm Busy

Here...Read THIS From The NY Times


Click

WHAAAAAAAATTTTT????

Look....I Can't Speak Right Now...


click here to see why

Things Are A Changin'

My Spare Time Is Dwindling


Dang it all folks, but I have to admit that I’ve gone out and started doing a bunch of stuff that’s cutting into my blogging time and more importantly—my NAP time every day.

In addition to trying to re-learn Calculus, something that I’ve already wasted about two and one half years of the prime of my life doing back in the late 1970’s, now I’m trying to learn the C programming language working on a Unix platform and thinking about installing LINUX on a PC box here in my office in order to have my own server on our little island.

I say “Screw paying someone to host web sites.”

Did you get all of that?

Not only are those technical issues clogging up the synapses of my brain, but I just let Blogger convert me over to their Beta release of their new software which gave me a bunch of new things I can do here on this blog, so if you log in one day and all you see is alien gibberish you’ll know that the new protocol is getting the best of me.

I’m not really going to change much here on the Coastal Companion blog, but I hate the font and layout on The Redneck Gourmet (something that I did in a hurry when the original blog template got mangled a couple of winters ago) and if I’m ever going to make any money from my blog efforts— The Redneck Gourmet is where I’m going to do it.

For that reason I’d like to spruce things up a little.

Thus far I am a complete and total failure as a webmaster. I can’t even successfully log in as the administrator to the Prenter.net site. My buddy Jim’s trying to talk me through it by E-mail, but I’m embarrassed that I couldn’t even get that far by myself.

Instead of Rocket Scientist, I’m feeling more like "Miny Me, The Micro Nerd" this morning…

More Responsibility

And Yet No Authority…


As if keeping up with two blogs on a weekly if not daily basis wasn’t enough trouble, now I have gone out and taken on a real website with a paid domain name and paid hosting services.

Would somebody please examine my head here?

Careful…don’t get too close…because I just might bite you (can anyone diagnose Rabies?)

You see, my friend Jim that’s been running the website Prenter.net was thinking of retiring and giving up the domain name, but since my grandparents and the rest of my father’s family lived there in that tiny little West Virginia coal mining town from the 1930’s until the 1960’s, I just couldn't set by and watch it (the website, not the town) die.

For the past seven years Jim has built and grown the site, and in the process he has reconnected people like me back to the simple time and a simpler place where my father was a boy scout and flew model airplanes and rode sleds down the hills in the “hollar.”

Every two years for the past seven they have a reunion and anyone that ever lived in the town or in almost all of Boone county, West Virginia is invited. I’ve attended the past two reunions with my two Uncles and my recently deceased Grandmother, and I find it pretty cool to meet people that knew my family before WWII.

So any way, when Jim announced that he was closing up the site, I stepped forward and offered my efforts and we’re going to manage things together until I get up to speed, and then after that I will be an actual WEBMASTER.

I know that you should be impressed...

Now on your knees…I command YOU to WORSHIP me…BwaaaAAAAhhahahahahah

More Blog Linkage

For All The Cooks and People Out There That Want To Cook


I’m afraid that I have to admit that I've been severely neglecting my cooking blog The Redneck Gourmet for much of this year.

Said neglect is the direct result of a couple of circumstances, the least of which being that I’ve stopped cooking.

It’s just hard to find anything new to cook sometimes. I guess that you could say that I’ve been in sort of a “cooking funk.”

Or maybe “Funky Cooking”? An old pop song comes to mind:

“Cook that funky cooking, white boy…” (a variation on some old 70’s song lyrics, perhaps…)

Any way, I just wandered over there to check out my reader stats, and I’m down about 50% since January because I HAVEN’T POSTED CRAP this year.

So sorry.

I really have been working on the cookbook version of my recipe file part time and I’ve figured out that writing a real marketable cookbook versus publishing a free blog website is HARD WORK.

I’m still trying to find my “voice” using the Redneck Gourmet concept with very detailed yet humorous instructions and things are basically going quite slow.

In the interim, I thought that as a service to my regular readers that I would point out a couple of other well done cooking blogs for your enjoyment:

First there is the very eloquent and successful Miss Clotilde Dusoulier over at Chocolate and Zucchini.com

Then there is my fellow rocket scientist: Cooking for Engineers.

Finally, there is a website that is sponsored by one of my blog parents called The Carnival of Recipes which produces an interesting collection of recipes on a weekly basis (usually published on Sundays.)

If you haven’t yet discovered the massive resource that the internet provides in research for everything from Avocado Dips to Baked Zucchini, then you’re missing out on the best 5% of the world wide web’s value.

Thanks Rodger

I Love Stuff Like This...




Go over HERE and take a peek.

Nine Eleven

From A Nine Twelve Perspective


As my regular readers know, I didn't write anything yesterday about 9/11. I felt so inadequate that I thought that it would have been a waste of your time reading my ramblings.

However, my fellow blogger and reader James Hooker (singer and keyboardist formerly of the band "The Amazing Rhythm Aces") posted a video and recording of a new song which he's written called The Canyons I Knew Well.

If you have high speed internet, click on the link and go take a look and listen.

I'm still busy designing city parks this morning.

UPDATE:

Now Mr. Hooker has his video and sound track on Youtube--here's the link (click the button on the lower left of the screen to not leave my site):



James wrote this song and produced the photo montage in 2-1/2 days.

I'm afraid that I have to admit that I couldn't do it in two and one half years...

An Island In The City

Working For Free Finally Pays Off...


Well folks, I walked out of City Hall about 8:45 AM this morning, almost forgetting the somber national tragedy that was being recognized at that time (9/11.)

I don't have much to say that hasn't already been said so many times, in so many places. I'll never forget where I was and what I was doing when I turned on the TV that morning and saw smoke coming out of the south tower.

Taking a big breath...

The good news is that I am virtually assured of having the money for my "K-Street Tree Project," and now the city has signed on board to pursue my "Island In The City" park redevelopment project that I proposed in our meeting.

Here's a crappy black & white scan of a xerox reduction of my original color drawing:

(click on the picture to enlarge...it looks a lot better full size and in color)

We meet again on October 4th to talk about raising another quarter million bucks. I may just be famous in some small way, at least locally, after all.

Politicking With The Politicians

More Smoozing At City Hall


Posting has been light virtually non-existent the past couple of days because I’ve been getting my final park/tree proposal together for the City of Brunswick.

I actually slept like a normal working stiff last night, and I was up early this morning getting showered, shaved, and all polished up for an 8 AM meeting with the Mayor and the City Administrator.

I don’t know if they’re ready to throw me into jail to shut me up, but they keep calling and asking me to come back to City Hall every few months so I guess that they’re interested in something I have to say and think.

Then again, they may want to slap me for yelling at the editor and a reporter at the local paper last month on their behalf. Since I’m not holding office, I can say things that should be said without worrying about getting re-elected.

If you don’t hear from me by tonight, will somebody please call a bail bondsman?

Yes...I Didn't Write Anything Last Night

But Keep Checking Back...And In The Mean Time...


Turn up your speakers, click on the button on the lower left, and watch Chris Bliss do This:




I'll be back later...

Look...I'm Video Blogging Now

And The First Topic Is Aviation...


I guess that I've mentioned before that I'm an aviation fanatic.

For my 8th Birthday, my father took me out to the local airport and bought me an hour ride in a Cessna 172. He was a pilot himself, but since he wasn't current on that airplane he rode in the back seat and let me sit up front in the right seat with our pilot.

We flew over our house and our neighborhood, and I even got to take a shot at keeping the nose on the horizon and the wings level (with the pilot doing some serious trim adjustments without my knowledge.)

When I was in junior high school, I got my first ride in a helicopter, a UH-1 "Huey", out at Ft. Rucker, Alabama with my Aviation Explorers Group.

My very first trip on a commercial airliner was in the summer of 1978, when I climbed onto a Douglas DC-9 in Dothan, Alabama, then flew to Atlanta to meet a Lockheed L1011 for a flight to San Francisco. After a bus trip to Travis AFB, I then boarded a MAC flight (a Lockheed C-141 cargo plane with paratrooper jump seats) for a 23 hour saga to Alaska (I forget the base); Yokota AFB, Japan; then on to Subic Bay Phillipines for a tour on the USS New Orleans, LPH-11.

My Duffel Bag and suitcase arrived two days later.

Christmas of 1979 found me at the Naval Air Station in Pensacola, Florida, riding the "Dilbert Dunker" (the thing shown in the movie "Officer & a Gentleman that slid down a track and turned upside down in a swimming pool) and getting orientation flights in Jet Ranger helicopters.

About then I found out that my vision had deteriorated to about 20/40 in one eye, and you had to have at least 20/25 uncorrected in both eyes to fly F-14's.

Thus ended my career in naval aviation.

At the same time, for about 30 of the first thirty five years of my life I spent much of my free time and much of my extra money building and flying model airplanes.

Since I was about age five, if you gave me a pile of balsa wood and some tissue paper or "Monocoat" I could make a structure that would fly, much of the time from scratch (no kit.)

Gliders, rubber bands, gas engines...it was all great fun to me.

My model airplane career sort of ended when I started flying the real thing in 1990, and after my house fire in 2001 I hate to admit that I only own two model airplanes right now--a simple Radio Shack RC model with twin electric motors, and a paper model I downloaded and cut out of the Airbus A-380 Super Jumbo that sits on top of my TV in the living room.

That said, just take my word for it when I say that you can make me stop talking and pay attention if you show me anything related to aviation in video form.

Take a look at my introductory video from the popular site Youtube.com
(Turn up the volume on your PC speakers, and click on the arrow on the lower left corner to play the video without leaving my site):






I can't say that I could ever fly like that, but I do appreciate the idea of trying...

Hah--They Published My Letter!!!

I Knew That They Would...


Oops, I just found out that unfortunately our local fishwrapper newspaper now requires a subscription fee to read the on-line editorials and reader comments.

Dang it...

Just in case you missed it, here's my words again for your enjoyment:

The Wednesday headline in this newspaper stating “Commissioner balks at fee” caught my eye, and upon reading further into the article, I was almost ready to personally visit Commissioner’s Thaw and Keller to give them a simple, short answer to their questions about the renovated Casino “being for public use and not a commercial enterprise.”

We’re not talking rocket science here ladies and gentlemen, because all our good commissioners have to do is pick up the phone and call the Ritz Theater in downtown Brunswick to find out that the proposed $75 per hour rental rates for the renovated Theater space are quite acceptable.

Auditoriums in Savannah and Jacksonville cost even more.

Further, I believe that meeting rooms made available at a rate of $25 per hour compare favorably—in fact they are a bargain—when compared with other similar facilities here on the island.

I, personally, resent our elected officials spending over $3,000,000 of hard earned taxpayer funds on a building, and then not expecting to operate the renovated facility in a fiscally responsible manner.

Remember a building called “The New Casino” that was torn down a few years ago because of the inept maintenance and management practices of previous county administrations?

Maintenance and utilities cost money—at least at my house they do—and I don’t care if The Island Players or the Jamaican Bob Sled team is allowed to use the building, as long as the Glynn County taxpayers at least break even in the process.

Commissioner Keller actually responed to my E-mail correspondence, but I've yet to hear from Mr. Thaw & Senior Fendig.

Gentlemen...I'm still waiting...

Waaaaah...Waaaaah...Booo Hoooo Hoooo

If The Shoe Fits...Buy TWO Pair


It seems that former president Bill Clinton and all of the "Clintonites" have their panties in a wad boxers in a bunch this morning.

Why don't you click on the above link and go take a gander at ABC's current delimma.

(I'm beating on the computers doing computer system maintenance this morning, transfering files and backing up to our 200 Gb external drive, defraging the internal disk...things like that...so posting will be light until I'm done...)

Local Politics

They Can’t See The Forrest For The Trees


As I’ve said many, many times before here on the ole’ blog…I’m really just a simple southern boy—I even call myself a “Redneck.”

I make self effacing statements like this in part to remind myself of where I come from, not where I’ve been in the world or even where I might be going.

The past couple of years of my life have been spent doing things which I never even really thought about doing in the years prior to moving to our little island here on the Georgia coast.

Acting and working behind the scenes in the local community theaters; writing thousands of words for public consumption each day, and even more words for my books that I’m working on; and finally these two dirty words:

POLITICAL ACTIVISM

I love to give the politicians Hell, both local and national, in a polite, rational, reasoned sort of way.

Last week it was a letter to US Senator Saxby Chambliss, and this week it’s our local Glynn County commissioners Cap Fendig, Uli Keller, and Tony Thaw which have come into my crosshairs.

Two of these three suspects are life long residents of the Golden Isles, and apparently for that reason they, like many other local government officials and some residents, take what we have here for granted.

They want to CHANGE everything.

They want to SPRUCE THINGS UP more than just a little.

Heck, they want to TEAR HALF OF EVERYTHING DOWN, no matter how beloved and historic it might be, and replace it with new bricks and mortar.

Then they want to pave over what’s left with asphalt, and plant a few new trees along the edges just to make people like me feel a little better.

Case in point, the waterfront area down by what we call “The Village” here on the island.

“The Village” was originally all there was here on St. Simons Island. Up until the 1960’s it contained the only hardware store, pharmacy, grocer, and other retail shops on the entire island. Today it has mostly been relegated to a collection of little shops selling trinkets and T-shirts to tourists.

Adjacent to “The Village” is a place called the Old Casino, and adjacent to that is an Olympic sized swimming pool sitting less than twenty yards from the Atlantic Ocean, with a beautiful view of Jekyll Island.

I bet we have the only public swimming pool between Key West, Florida and Auburn, Maine sitting in a position like that. I also KNOW that where pools exist in other similar venues that people are paying big bucks to join swanky private beach clubs in order to get access, and dodging their way through interviews with snobby membership committees and having to wear designer clothes and valet park their Volvo’s while waiting in line to get in on Saturday afternoon.

Not so here in Georgia.

Our elected idiots want to close the pool, fill it in with dirt and concrete, and build a park on top of the area. The excuse is that the pool isn’t used very much, and it costs too much to operate.

No WONDER, the dang thing is hardly ever open, and they refuse to generate any revenue with it because the county recreation department is only in the business of mowing the grass on soccer and softball fields. Apparently no one can swim down at the administration building or something.

Our scuba dive club in Atlanta was BEGGING to rent facilities like the one we have here to conduct training and classes, and all we could ever get was the use of shallow moldy facilities in a defunct health club.

This pool is 15’ deep for God’s sake, but NooooooOOOOOO, you don’t think that the county could rent it out for swimming and scuba classes rather than letting it sit idle for most of the year?

This year they opened it in JUNE, and closed it LABOR DAY, and then it was only open something like Tuesday through Saturday for about four hours each day.

It makes my head want to start spinning…

Next we come to this morning’s real topic of concern…the so called “Old Casino.”

The Old Casino is not really a casino in the gambling sense, what it was built as was a library, county offices, a visitor’s center, and a movie theater. Again, it’s a late 1940’s vintage structure which sits adjacent to the Atlantic Ocean (about 50 yards away.)

After having to tear down the adjacent New Casino building three years ago because of poor maintenance and neglect, the county recently decided to get off of their butts and spend a little over $3,000,000 on a total renovation and enlargement of the facility.

The movie theater had been long ago outdated and converted into a space used for plays and concerts, with the addition of two dressing rooms on the backstage area sometime in the 60’s or 70’s. In recent years the space had been rented by the local theater company for a ridiculously low price of $3,000 per year, and they agreed to manage the building and pay the annual utilities.

By manage the building, it might be better said DOMINATE the building—locking it up and refusing to let any other entity use “their “ stage.

I personally spent a miserable 15 months dealing with the self important ingrates that called themselves "a theater company," so I know what I'm talking about here, and when I retired I resolved to make sure that their dominance of a facility owned by the public would not continue in the future

(It might be fair to say that I have a very large axe to grind here...heck, I've got a trunk load of axes....)

Any way...This latest renovation using SPLOST tax dollars saw a massive expansion of the backstage area, additional room in the wings of the stage for actors and handling of set pieces, new seating, an orchestra pit, and state of the art lighting and sound systems.

So good so far.

The problem is, as I said earlier, I know the politics and personalities behind the theater company which is expecting to march back into the renovated building and once again sit astride the stage after a 14 month absence, and it was just made public that they’re yet again expecting to negotiate a sweetheart deal on the lease.

I did a little checking around in anticipation of this situation developing, and here’s the text to the letter I wrote this morning to The Brunswick News, with similar wording being directed by E-mail to the three county Commissioners:

The Wednesday headline in this newspaper stating “Commissioner balks at fee” caught my eye, and upon reading further into the article, I was almost ready to personally visit Commissioner’s Thaw and Keller to give them a simple, short answer to their questions about the renovated Casino “being for public use and not a commercial enterprise.”

We’re not talking rocket science here ladies and gentlemen, because all our good commissioners have to do is pick up the phone and call the Ritz Theater in downtown Brunswick to find out that the proposed $75 per hour rental rates for the renovated Theater space are quite acceptable.

Auditoriums in Savannah and Jacksonville cost even more.

Further, I believe that meeting rooms made available at a rate of $25 per hour compare favorably—in fact they are a bargain—when compared with other similar facilities here on the island.

I, personally, resent our elected officials spending over $3,000,000 of hard earned taxpayer funds on a building, and then not expecting to operate the renovated facility in a fiscally responsible manner.

Remember a building called “The New Casino” that was torn down a few years ago because of the inept maintenance and management practices of previous county administrations?

Maintenance and utilities cost money—at least at my house they do—and I don’t care if The Island Players or the Jamaican Bob Sled team is allowed to use the building, as long as the Glynn County taxpayers at least break even in the process.

I'm doing Injuneerin’

Sometimes I Forget That Am One…


Sorry folks, but in between being useless and lazy over the Labor Day Holiday weekend and in addition to writing my blogs, I’ve also been busy the past few weeks working on some nerdy research for some consulting engineering work that I’m doing with my friend Wayne Kirsner, the “Water Hammer Guru.”

Wayne and I go back about 17 years or so, to a time when I worked with him as an “Energy Consultant” at a now defunct consulting engineering firm in Atlanta. Since then we’ve kept in touch socially, and occasionally he employs me in his forensic engineering investigations because of my practical experience building giant things out of steel pipes and beams.

Can you imagine going into a courtroom to testify as to why a man died being “cooked” by 500 degree F steam and condensate in a manhole after a giant valve failed during the startup of a boiler plant?

Gruesome stuff, but somebody’s got to know how to figure out what happened so another life won’t be lost, and Wayne’s recognized as one of the best expert witnesses out there in the world today.

Any way, we’re currently working on some stuff relating to what’s commonly called “water hammer” in piping systems. Almost everyone has heard the audible effects of water hammer at one time or the other in a house or apartment.

Water hammer is that “thunk” that you hear when the dishwasher, washing machine, or even a toilet stops filling with water. It doesn’t happen every time, in every residence, and there are ways to prevent it from happening or reduce it’s effects if you have a water hammer problem.

We’re not really worrying about making money fixing restrooms, we’re more interested in talking about what happens when you have a water hammer in a 24” diameter pipe full of water or steam. In those situations it’s not just a annoyance, but, as I said before, it can be DEADLY in an industrial setting.

The technical name which the pointy headed PHD types use for water hammer is a “transient in a hydronic system.” Not taking MYSELF too seriously, I love being irreverent and picking on anyone that has spent money paying to torture themselves with six or more years of college education, so I do things like this with Photoshop:

No it's not actually the same as Hobos in your bath tubs, but I find it funny. You’ll have to excuse me now, but I’ve got to go check out our “hydronic systems”…

we might have some problems I need to solve…

What Really Went On In Lebanon

Stuff The US Media Doesn't Show Or Tell Us About...


It has been pointed out to me by my blog idols over at Powerline that Itai Anghel, an Israeli photo journalist, spent a mind boggling evening last month following a group of IDF soldiers on a mission from Israel into a Lebanese border village known to be a Hezbollah stronghold.

Here's a link to the 25 minute video:

http://switch248-01.castup.net/cunet/gm.asp?ClipMediaID=209947&ak=63628786

I posted the entire link so that if you click on it and it doesn't play, you can cut and paste it into your browser address window and watch it.

You really need to watch it.

Seriously…YOU really need to watch the entire thing…it’s not fake drama…

It’s REAL LIFE military action.

I know that a number of my readers read my rantings at work and don't have time to watch 25 minutes of video, but I suggest that you go home, pour yourself a drink, and sit down at your home computer and be prepared to have the crap scared out of you.

I’m pretty sure that our own military has been going through the exact same scenarios for the past three plus years in Afghanistan and Iraq, and until you have been there like Cameraman Itai has you really have no idea what it is really like to be in close quarters night combat.

I really can’t believe that a journalist could be so brave, or that he would ever go back after that experience.

Another thing that struck me was how young everyone was in the video, even the company commander.

The point which I'd like to make in this reference is the ridiculous complaints of the various piecenicks and Democrats that the training of the new Iraqi Army is taking so long to accomplish.

What total idiotic crap, I say, and I’m surprised that no one in the current administration has had the intellectual or intestinal fortitude to point out the problems encountered in trying to produce an “Instant Army.”

Being the intellectual giant that I am, I want you to think about that idea (an instant army) with me for a minute.

Here in the United States, since the elimination of the draft, there are basically two ways of joining the military. You can either (a) walk into a recruiting station and sign your name on the dotted line, or (b) attend college in an ROTC program or one of the Service Academies like West Point and paste Ensigns or Lieutenants bars on your collar when you graduate and march into active duty.

Then every year or two, IF you learn everything you are supposed to learn and keep your “nose clean” (i.e. leave the commanders’ wife alone and don’t get into fights or get convicted of DUI), you get a promotion of rank.

In the process you also learn something about fighting wars and leading other soldiers, along with the opportunity to see some of the rest of the world east of NY City and West of San Francisco.

After ten years, you might make the rank of Major, at fifteen years Bird Colonel, and at twenty years, if you did everything absolutely perfect and kissed all of the correct rear ends, you might have one star on your cap (Brigadier General)

Ten Years…Fifteen Years…Twenty Years…it takes a good deal of TIME to make an Army, because it takes TIME to train fighting soldiers and LEADERS.

You just can’t snap your fingers and have them appear our of thin air like John Murtha and Nancy Pelosi would have you believe.

Next you say…”but Iraq already had an Army before we invaded, what about those officers?”

Is there anyone out there really stupid enough to want us to attempt to trust the animals that were employed under Sadam’s regime? Yes, I agree that some were probably just going along with the program to protect their own wallets and health, but seriously—how do we know which ones to employ?

All I do know is that even if I was a healthy 21 year old again, I would sure hate having to run around holding a pair of night vision goggles while snipers wearing their own goggles (thanks to Russia, Germany, and France) took pot shots at my butt.

Watch that video, DAMMIT.

Birthday Successful

World Still Crazy...


Well Folks, I'm rested, I'm lazy, and I still feel quite full at this early morning hour.

I did exactly what I wanted to do almost every minute of the day yesterday--and that would be...

VIRTUALLY NOTHING.

(I'm getting pretty good at it also)

My goal was for us to hide from the vacationers and tourists on our little island the entire weekend, and we were quite successful at it in retrospect.

I had Pat make sure that I was awake from my midday nap by 4 PM, then I ran to the grocery for some fresh baked bread in anticipation of cooking Chicken Piccata for dinner.

Then, after a couple of hours of conversation, antipasta, and dinner with our guests, I was asleep on the sofa by 9 PM.

I'm thinking about hiring a limo and some tugboats to move my bloated carcass around the island, and this year I'll just eat and gain weight and soon I'll probably look like Jabba the Hutt in the movie "Star Wars."

Here's a preview:



Then again...maybe not...I don't want to look too much like Ted Kennedy...

Sushi, Wasabi, And Me

Just Sprinkle My Remains With Pickled Ginger And A Good Soy Sauce…


OK, my birthday festivities began last evening, and when it was all over with I ended up eating more Sushi than an entire school of Tuna could put away.

Well…almost…

Actually, my 47th isn’t until Sunday, but I’m pretty secretive about such goings on so only my family and now my blog readers know of the event.

I hate situations forcing acquaintances and total strangers to feel compelled to participate in often half hearted recognition of persons that are otherwise of dubious regard and character in the community.

Don’t get me wrong…I know I’m both “dubious” and a “character” most of the time, but I just prefer the sincere recognition of my mother, my sister, my girl Pat, and possibly a few close friends rather than milking the public for free drinks and a cheep birthday cake.

The balance of this weekend's celebration will hopefully consist of a couple of nice sunny days at our swimming pool working on our late season suntans, with me doing the cooking for dinner both on Saturday for Pat and I and on Sunday for our friends Bruce and Ski.

By the way, Saturday I’m doing one of my soon to be famous White Pizza with my home made thick crust, and on Sunday I’m doing my already famous Chicken Piccata.

Back to the Sushi reference in my title, I’ve just sat here and consumed about another eight pieces of various kinds of rolls left over from last night’s dinner.

Sushi for breakfast…am I weird or what?

I have to say again that this new Japanese restaurant here on the island is really GOOD.

Thank God, because they are the only show in town (or should I say—on the Island) and I was slowly slipping into a state of sushi withdrawal over the past two and one half years.

In Atlanta, sushi bars are like Mexican restaurants, there’s one every five hundred yards up and down every thoroughfare.

It must be a law or county ordinance or something, I don’t know.

My only problem this morning was that I could only find one chop stick, so I was forced to poke around with my fingers in the Wasabi/soy mixture in my bowl.

It was still yummy...

OK, the Sushi’s all gone, it’s time to get back to working on my recipes for our Mediterranean Christmas party.

I hope that Y'all have a good Labor Day weekend…I KNOW that I will.

Praise The Lord…And Pass The Hummus

And Don’t Make Me Breathe On You


OK Folks, I’m pleased to report that we got by with exactly two tiny tree limbs downed by the 6 MPH winds we had, and looking at the pool this morning we probably had about an inch and one half of rain.

The tropical storm actually cooled off the pool water a little so it doesn’t quite feel like getting into a tepid bathtub or a puddle of pee when you get in (although I’m sure that there is a generous quantity of urine in there because the miserable old farts my lovely elderly neighbors on the Condo Board insist on locking the bathrooms up like they’re expecting an assault of hairy hoards of teenagers or islamofaschists to over run our property at any minute.)

Any way, life goes on here in South Georgia and Northeastern Florida this morning, although I still want to find the phone number to see if I can apply for my FEMA check.

In more local news, I made some Hummus dip the other day which has enough garlic in it to honestly keep Vampires and Werewolves away from you for at least six months after eating a couple of tablespoons of the stuff.

I’m eating some right now, and Pat will probably beat me with the closest household item when I try to give her a good morning hug.

My current cooking program is to develop enough dishes to sponsor a Mediterranean Christmas party in early December featuring dishes from Morocco, Turkey, Greece, and a few other eclectic places.

I’ve got the recipes for Hummus, Olive tampenade, Moussaka (Eggplant), Stuffed Grape Leaves, Spanakapita (Spinach Pie), Moroccan Chicken, and several forms of couscous down to an art, but I’d like to come up with another main dish and a dessert or two (possibly baklava?) to complete the menu.

We had rave reviews over our last joint party with our friends Bruce and Ski, but the bar has now been raised and I feel compelled to try to improve my own standards over that we set with the Cinco de Mayo party last spring.

Dang...Being a legend in your own mind is sure hard work...

The Quiet During Before The Storm

Yawn...


At 4:30 AM EST I was bobbing around our swimming pool watching the splash reflections made by rain droplets striking the surface of the water, and doing nerdy things like thinking about surface tension in fluids and how the individual wave patterns reflect off of each other in a phenomena called "constructive and destructive" interferance.

I think that human society has a number parallels to this type of action, but I'm too tired to try to explain it right now.

I just looked at the NOAA website and Ernesto is winding back up offshore just to our southeast, but there hasn't been a gust over 2 MPH here so far, although we are getting a steady moderate rain now.

The good news is that my frogs and toads have come out of hiding at the pool and are happily acting all froggy--braping and chirping and hopping around--and that makes me fairly sure that the worst is all a figment of our imagination.

You see, I didn't mention it, but last night I couldn't find one single frog hanging around the pool deck and, being the grandson of a southern farmer, their absence made me a bit nervous.

Not to worry.

I know that everything's gonna be all right here, because the frogs are singing and even the birds are already flapping around on our feeders this morning.

If I were living on Pawleys Island or up in Little River, I might be paying slightly more attention to our little friend Ernesto because he might wind up a little tighter this morning and make a little trouble before it is all said and done.

I guess that I'm glad that I'm not living right on the beach in South or North Carolina right now

I Am Lieutenant Dan

“Bring It On…Al Gore…Is That All You’ve Got?”


OK folks, try to picture me, swinging in a boatswains chair, attached to a Live Oak tree outside my back patio, acting like Lieutenant Dan (Actor Gary Sinise) in the movie Forrest Gump.

Here's a map of where I am:

Most specifically, I'm trying to re-create the hurricane scene in the movie “Forrest Gump” where Forrest and Lt. Dan are caught off of the Louisiana coast on their shrimp boat.

Much to the Global Warming Theorist's and the media's chagrin, I'm not feeling that my efforts are making me look very Studly right now--because virtually NOTHING is happening except I'm getting wet in the rain.

I don't care...

Just to rub things into the hysterical naysayers wounds a little more, in the tradition of Lieutenant Dan, I’m now heading out to the pool, in the rain, to further taunt the infinite wrath of newly re-formed Tropical Storm Ernesto, which is currently lying off of northeast Florida’s Atlantic coast…heading this way as we speak.

I’ll do my normal evening swim, and then I'll consider taking my camera out to East Beach to take some photo’s of the surf at sunrise this morning.

All I ask is that you stay tuned to this channel for breaking developments....


(Someone please call the Coast Guard if you don't hear from me again by 8 AM?)

The Media's In Denial

And I'm Tired Of Listening...


Well, ladies and gentlemen, I can state emphatically that the first "killer storm" of the season is thus far all bark and no bite.

We've gotten about 1/10th of 1 millimeter of rain thus far, and you couldn't fly a kite without riding in the back of a SUV at 20 MPH if you wanted to.

In other words, we have had exactly Zero wind thus far today.

I guess that this proves that Karl Rove, President Bush, and FEMA really can control the weather, and when a storm threatens wealthy suburbs populated by angry white male Libertarians, they just walk over and press the "Easy Button" that they bought at Staples.

Disaster is then averted.

Regarding the Kentucky plane crash, it was reported today that there was only one air traffic controller working in the tower at the time of the accident.

There were supposed to be at least two.

I didn't write about that in this blog, but I discussed it with some of my other pilot friends and we agreed that there was a high probablity that the controllers could share some of the responsibility for the pilot attempting to depart on a 3,500 foot runway in an aircraft that needs at least 5,000 feet to get airborn.

Case closed on that accident, in my opinion--although some contractor may catch some heat for knocking down signs and not replacing markings when doing the recent runway repaving project.

Any way, I'll keep one eye on the weather channel tonight and if anything interesting happens like it actually starts raining hard or the wind blows over 25 or 30 MPH, I might grab a coat and umbrella and try to act like my weather god idol, Jim Cantori.

Then again, I might just sleep through the whole disaster total non-event.

Ernesto Cometh

Rain, Rain…Go Away


I’m sitting here at the computer, surrounded by gallon jugs of drinking water, loaves of bread, mounds of toilet paper and flashlight batteries, anticipating the arrival of Satin in the form of something named Ernesto.

I use the word “something” because the damn thing won’t make up its mind which way and where it’s going. You see, the path it ultimately chooses will determine if it is a hurricane or just a big giant thunderstorm when it passes our little island sometime on Wednesday.

No matter, the TV weather people are all still worked up into a lather.

I think that it’s funny that the storm failed to strengthen between Cuba and Florida.

Jim Cantori’s shiny head is still looking good there on the Weather Channel, and Al Gore’s eyes have rolled back into his skull. He probably has to have counseling and is being forced to take a double dose of his meds right now.

You do remember that crazy Al and all of his socialist Global Warming buddies were counting on a record hurricane season this year to support their cries for the US to sign the Kyoto Treaty and move everyone back to living in caves and riding bicycles to work.

So sorry Al…NOT.

This storm reminds me of a couple of the idiots that we followed for a couple of hours down I-95 last weekend, driving at 60 MPH in the left hand lane of the interstate, with their left turn signal flashing the whole time. You could never tell where they were actually going, and I don’t think that even THEY knew.

I have some news for them.

There are no exits on the left side of the interstate between Brunswick, Georgia and Daytona Beach, Florida!

Not to matter—they were ready with their turn signal if they managed to find one.

Speaking of turn signals, I want to digress a little.

I believe that a “Turn Signal,” as it was originally designed, was installed to allow a driver to tell other drivers what they are INTENDING TO DO…not what you are DOING RIGHT NOW.

That’s the way I use mine, anyway.

Doesn’t anyone else but me have a problem with drivers that turn on their turn signal at the exact second that they begin their turn?

Then there are the people that think that their turn signals are just a cool option, sort of like that little visor mirror in my Suburban that I NEVER USE.

There I am, sitting there waiting for a gap in the traffic on Frederica Road for two or three minutes and, when finally I get an opening from one direction, some idiot with a “turn signal deficiency” goes and spoils it by diving past me onto the side street I’m in at the last second, without signaling their intentions to turn.

Sometimes it makes me want to back my truck up, turn around, and hunt them down in order to give them a good cussing out and a quick lesson in what that little stalk sticking out on the left side of the steering wheel is supposed to be used for.

Seriously, where’s a Cop when you NEED ONE?

Come on…you agree don’t you…or are you one of those drivers I’m describing here?

If so, I’ll have to ask you to LEAVE MY BLOG…NOW!

For everyone else, you’ll have to excuse me now, because I have to go out and buy some extra water and batteries.

Transients In The Hydronic Systems

I’m Not Talking About Hobo’s In Your Bathtubs Either…


Just Damn…People—Instead of exploding, I actually think that my head will just fall off of my shoulders, roll around on the ground, and rot into a pile of mush if I’m forced to look at any more of the crap going on today in the world, as reported by the drive-by lamestream national media.

Is it just me, or what?

I’m really trying to make an effort here on my blog to be calm and nice, but…

Unless a couple of things happen, and unless a couple of new stupid things don’t happen to take their place in my cranium, I think that I’ll just stow away in one of the wheel wells on the Space Shuttle and take my chances, since I’m unable to breath for most of the day here on the earth’s surface anyway—watching the TV news and reading the newspapers both local and national.

The ongoing hysteria and media frenzy about little Miss Dead Beauty Queen Ramsey and that pasty faced, giant fore-headed, pansy-assed looking idiot that got a free ride in business class (at taxpayer expense) from SE Asia back to the US makes me want to break things and try to bite the TV remote control in half every time the story comes on.

Then there is the crash of Comair flight 5191 which took the life of my fellow blogger Steve over at Hog On Ice’s cousin’s AirTran Captain husband (confused yet?), Clarence Fortney, along with 48 other souls.

What kills me is that while the national media continues to spaz out over 50 dead people and the 2,500+ dead soldiers from Iraq, that they continue to fail to mention that by midnight TONIGHT we will have killed another nearly 120 people (44,000 annually) in auto accidents here in the US--mainly because most people out there drive like total IDIOTS, a fact that I observed again on Sunday afternoon during the return trip from Orlando to our little Island.

Continuing the contribution to my personal insanity is the media’s celebration of the one year anniversary of President Bush’s mandate that every poor person in New Orleans be killed by their own stupidity the Louisiana Democratic politicians’ incompetence racist Republicans caught pumping millions of gallons of chemically poisoned floodwaters that were allowed to flow across the Parishes of the city at 1 inch per hour after Hurricane Katrina was somewhere up in Canada.

In celebration of that event, we here on St. Simons are looking forward to the possibility of dodging Tropical Storm or soon to be Hurricane Ernesto.

If this latest storm does end up coming our way, I’m thinking about taking off all my clothes, abandoning my Suburban in the middle of the Torras Causeway at rush hour during the evacuation, and then running around looking for TV cameras and government helicopters—all the time screaming about not having enough warning and wanting my $2,000 FEMA debit card because I need some new tennis shoes and a lap dance down at the Red Carpet lounge in Brunswick.

Having addressed all of those issues, I finally come to an situation which really gives me an industrial case of the ACHING ASS.

SOME STUPID IDIOT ELECTED PARTISAN DUMBASS IN THE UNITED BY GOD STATES OF AMERICA’S SENATE has put a secret hold on Senate Bill S.2590 (The Federal Funding Accountability and Transparency Act of 2006.)

This is some kind of parliamentarian trick that, while it is currently completely LEGAL, allows the CHICKEN SHIT MORONS that some of you out there elect and choose to call “Senators” (a couple of dudes named Kerry and Kennedy come instantly to mind) to hold up legislation without letting the public know who or whom they are.

For those that haven’t been following what is casually called the “Coburn/Obama Federal Budget Database Bill”, the legislation would make available on the internet to average citizens the intricate details of all of the BS pork spending and so-called “earmarks” that are jammed and crammed into the federal budget and unrelated spending legislation each year.

But NOOOOOoooooooooo, that can’t possibly happen…financial accountability for elected officials?

It is clear that somebody out there in our Senate wants to stop this measure, even though it has already survived passing through the finance committee and was thereby due a vote on the Senate floor this week. What I want to know is, why do we all continue to allow these elitist snobs to court our votes, then treat us like insignificant pieces of crap once they get moved into their Georgetown Townhouses?

I wrote this letter this morning:

Dear Senator Chambliss,

I am writing to express my concern over the secret procedural hold recently placed on the Coburn/Obama S.2590 Federal Funding Accountability and Transparency Act of 2006.

I am also troubled by news reports of your office's lack of positive affirmation that you are not in fact the Senator responsible for preventing the floor vote on this important piece of much needed legislation.

On behalf of myself and the other voters of Glynn county and the state of Georgia, I respectfully ask that you make your best efforts to press this legislation forward in the name of open government, and not allow the continuance of archaic procedural rules to prevent the other 99 Senators to vote on a law that has already been approved in committee.

If you are in fact the individual Senator or one of a group of Senators responsible for this procedural roadblock to the vote on this legislation—I ask that you at least say so in public, for the record.

I would also like to see the Senate rules amended to prevent anonymous tricks like this from occurring in the future. I believe that if an elected official wants to show his true colors, thereby admitting to the public the interests they are truly representing, that they should have to conduct such business in the open, in the limelight, in a manner that is clear to those who sent them to Washington in the first place.

Best Regards,

Virgil Raymond Rogers, III
St. Simons, Georgia

I wish that a few more people would get off of their lazy butts and do the same...

DAMMIT

Another Internet Victory

Get A Hit And Then Run Away...


I installed my second ever wireless WEP encrypted network this morning.

Because it appeared to be a no-brainer and everything worked immediately, I fear that I have the false idea that I now actually KNOW what I'm doing when it comes to home network administration.

I'm pretty sure that I'm mistaken, but I'm sitting here blogging on the sofa with only a power wire connected to Pat's niece's laptop computer and well...you can see some of the results of my efforts.

We're on the road again tomorrow afternoon heading back to our little island, with a possible delay and detour toward the Kennedy Space Center to watch the Space Shuttle launch. In the past I've seen several from a great distance, but I've never been right there adjacent to the fireworks.

I hope the weather holds out--It's quite questionable.

Wish us luck...

Travel Blogging Again…

Orlando Here We Come.


Well Folks…once again I’ll be away from my keyboard for awhile, as we will be spending some time in St. Cloud, Florida, a little bit south of Orlando, traveling there after lunch today to spend a long weekend.

Of course I, personally, will be in withdrawal because of the lack of high speed internet access in our host’s home, but I’ll try to make do.

Hopefully the visit with some of Pat’s family and the mini dachshunds Olive and Otis, along with a little time day boating on the adjacent lake Weekiewackahackahackahockekokeockie (OK, its really called East Lake Tohopekaliga…really…it is…look it up on the map), will help motivate me into getting something done all day once we return back here to our little island.

My little girlfriend Olive and I will probably get some quality time in together sleeping on the sofa (Olive actually weighs less than 10 pounds—I’ve had many bigger CATS in my day.)

Hopefully the hurricanes and other natural disasters will stay out of our way and everyone will return on Monday safe and sound.

(And to my regular readers...don't worry, I'm getting up a good head of steam on a couple of subjects and I feel pretty certain that some kind of explosion is about to happen.

Stay tuned to this channel for further developments...)

Hair Brained Idea #243

Basically--I Don’t Know What I’m Gonna Do When I Finally Grow Up


OK…it’s employment update time, so let’s take a quick look at the list so far this summer.

Rocket Scientist…OUT

Brain surgeon…OUT

News Reporter…OUT (after giving the Senior editor of the local newspaper a piece of my mind for their coverage of my K-Street Tree Project)

Fry Cook Chef…OUT (after Allan re-hired a previous experienced employee that became available at the last minute--no hard feelings, however.)

Now as to my latest enterprise...

Yesterday I learned that “Miss Property Manager”, the lady that owns the company which oversees the daily operations here in our condo development, was convicted in State Court of numerous counts of theft by taking, intellectual property theft, and a number of other misdeeds.

Needless to say that all of my fellow Condo board members heads are about to explode because of the news.

As a result, today at 2:00 PM I had a meeting with a friend of mine that has his Real Estate Broker and Real Estate Property Management licenses and we talked about using little old ME as a new employee to bid on offering replacement property management services to our condo property.

I've previously mentioned that I’ve been effectively running and managing this place for the past two and one half years for free, haven’t I?

So far I’ve done everything but sign the checks and empty the trash cans, and we currently pay Ozzy for the trash services.

Any way, Bruce and I are talking and, since I’m already here 24/7, it makes sense to make an offer and try to use his existing Real estate company as a vehicle to get us started in the property management business.

When you look around down here, everyone in that segment of the market basically SUCKS, while at the same time they’re busy as heck because of the limited options available to property owners.

I just might be on to something here…

Hey Mr. Trump, you better be lookin’ over your shoulder.

Things Are Warming Up A Little

Don't Worry...I'm Watching Out For Everyone...


I just got this in an E-mail for NOAA National Weather Service in the past hour this morning, and I thought that I would share it with eveybody so that they would officially know what a useless nerd I am:

000
WTNT44 KNHC 230842
TCDAT4
TROPICAL STORM DEBBY DISCUSSION NUMBER 7

NWS TPC/NATIONAL HURRICANE CENTER MIAMI FL AL042006

500 AM EDT WED AUG 23 2006

THE SATELLITE APPEARANCE OF DEBBY CONTINUES TO IMPROVE AND A 0331 UTC AQUA MICROWAVE OVERPASS DETECTED A FAIRLY WELL ORGANIZED SYSTEM...WITH WELL DEFINED BANDS AROUND THE CENTER.

DVORAK INTENSITY ESTIMATES ARE 45 KT FROM SAB...AND 35 KT FROM TAFB AND
AFWA.

THEREFORE...THE INITIAL INTENSITY IS INCREASED TO 40 KT. THE INITIAL MOTION ESTIMATE IS 295/14.

DEBBY IS CURRENTLY BEING STEERED WEST-NORTHWEST TO NORTHWESTWARD AROUND THE SOUTHWESTERN PERIPHERY OF A MID-TO UPPER-LEVEL RIDGE CENTERED NEAR THE AZORES.

THE RELIABLE TRACK MODELS ARE TIGHTLY CLUSTERED...MAINTAINING THIS MOTION THROUGH THE NEXT 48 TO 72 HOURS. AT DAYS 4 AND5...GLOBAL MODELS DEVELOP A SIGNIFICANT WEAKNESS IN THE RIDGE AS A MID- TO UPPER-LEVEL TROUGH AMPLIFIES OVER THE CENTRALATLANTIC. THE TRACK DIFFERENCES SEEN IN THE THE GLOBAL MODELS APPEAR TO BE THE RESULT OF DIFFERENCES IN THE FORECAST STRENGTH OF THE TROPICAL CYCLONE.

THE UMKET MODEL DEPICTS A MUCH WEAKER SYSTEM AND IN TURN TRACKS IT MORE WESTWARD...WHILE THE GFS AND GFDL MODEL SHAVE A STRONGER CYCLONE WHICH FEELS THE EFFECTS OF THE TROUGH AND TURNS NORTHWARD NEAR THE END OF THE PERIOD.

THE NOGAPS TRACK SEEMS UNREASONABLE BECAUSE IT RESULTS FROM AN UNREALISTIC DISSIPATION OF THE LOW-LEVEL CIRCULATION AND REFORMATION OF THE SYSTEM FROM A MID-TO UPPER-LEVEL LOW TO THE WEST. THE OFFICIAL TRACK FORECAST IS VERY CLOSE TO THE PREVIOUS ADVISORY THROUGH 72 HOURS. THEREAFTER...IT HAS BEEN SHIFTED SLIGHTLY TO THE RIGHT IN GENERAL AGREEMENT WITHTHE GFS...GFDL...AND THE FSU SUPERENSEMBLE SOLUTIONS.

DEBBY WILL BE ENCOUNTERING DRIER MID-LEVEL AIR AND SLIGHTLY COOLERSSTS OVER THE NEXT 36 HOURS OR SO...WHICH SHOULD KEEP INTENSIFICATION SLOW IN THE NEAR TERM. THEREAFTER... THE CYCLONE WILL BE PASSING OVER WARMER SSTS...BUT SHEAR IS FORECAST TOSTRENGTHEN WHICH MAKES FOR A DIFFICULT INTENSITY PREDICTION.

THE NHC FORECAST BRINGS DEBBY TO HURRICANE STRENGTH IN 4 DAYS...WHICH IS VERY CLOSE TO THE CONSENSUS OF THE GFDL AND SHIPS...BUT IS LEVELED OFF IN DEFERENCE TO THE POSSIBILITY OF INCREASING SHEAR.

FORECAST POSITIONS AND MAX WINDS INITIAL

23/0900Z 15.9N 30.1W 40 KT 12HR VT
23/1800Z 16.9N 32.2W 45 KT 24HR VT
24/0600Z 18.2N 35.0W 50 KT 36HR VT
24/1800Z 19.6N 37.9W 50 KT 48HR VT
25/0600Z 21.0N 40.8W 50 KT 72HR VT
26/0600Z 24.0N 46.5W 60 KT 96HR VT
27/0600Z 27.5N 51.0W 65 KT120HR VT
28/0600Z 30.0N 53.0W 65 KT

FORECASTER BROWN


I sure feel better knowing all of that, don't YOU?

Live Blogging From "The Cone Of Death"

Well...Actually...We're just Almost In The "Cone of Death"


I guess that Al Gore and the balance of the liberal eco-tree-hugger-global-warming nuts all have their panties boxers wet now, because the first major blip on the radar of the Cape Verde part of the summer hurricane season has recently formed and is moving this way as I write.

Here's the latest map of its predicted progress:

Of course you do realize that this is just Tropical Depression #4 of this Hurricane season that began in late May or early June?

What’s up with that?

Last time I listened to the blithering mainstream media idiots and the other liberal nay-sayers, they were guaranteeing that Condi Rice and President Bush would by now be personally responsible for pounding every third world island in this hemisphere and every minority neighborhood within 100 miles of the coast of the southern US with Katrina-like monsoonal flows of wind and rain, all the time parking fleets of school buses within arms reach just to show their contempt for minorities and other “po folks”?

FEMA and the Red Cross would have orders to look the other way.

I guess that their celebrations can now begin...

Being the pompous, middle aged, white male that I am, I believe that I’ll just sit here luxuriating (or is that "luxurinating") in the knowledge that this storm will probably either:

A. Fizzle out.

B. Turn further north and attack Bermuda

C. Turn south and assault my blog buddy Steve down in south Florida

D. Screw around with all of you kids up in NY and Connecticut.

E. Scare the heck out of me if it makes it this far across the Atlantic.

My point is this...I really don't care, because I've lived in the south, adjacent to the Atlantic Ocean and the Gulf of Mexica, all of my life.

Nothing has really changed.

There are still drunken kids on vacation driving sports cars up and down the beach roads threatening the safety of pedestrians and other drivers.

There are still people piloting boats offshore and in the inland waterways that have no practical seamanship skills or nautical knowledge.

There are still the usual arrogant assholes stumbling around acting like they own the place when they visit great grandmama's condo for a long weekend every other year.

Where's the medias' warnings and outrage over those hazards?

In my view, the only thing that's consistent, is the consistent inconsistency.

So why should you and I get all worked up?

Just go with the flow is my motto.

After the last hurricane season, there were all kinds of dire predictions about “killer storms” and some kind of relationship to “global warming” increasing the frequency and intensity of the resulting storms.

I’ve been saying a hearty “bah humbug” to everyone running around out there screaming such nonsense, while at the same time realizing that the southern Georgia coast and specifically St. Simons Island is statistically DUE to bear the assault of a hurricane in the coming years.

The last one was in 1964, the last real scare was in 1999, and in the late 1800’s the entire island and the city of Brunswick was under over a dozen feet of water as a result of nature’s wrath.

Excuse me, but maybe I'll think about wandering around locating my flashlight and some batteries now...

I Guess That I've Acted Myself "OUT"

And Thereby Built My Own Purgatory


I’m getting all antsy these days—wanting to get back up on stage and do some entertaining.

The only problem is, my harmonicas sit around the condo in what was once a hard plastic case for my pistols, and almost everyone that I’ve met down here in the “community theater” business is either a total lazy asshole of a man, else they are a big giant sweating overweight woman going though menopause that thinks that they can act, sing, and dance—and regardless of their ability, they (the aforementioned hairy assholes and psychopathic sets of mammary glands) exercise control over most of the theater stages around this part of the Georgia coast.

I’ve learned to not get in their way over the past couple of years, doing things the hard way.

My problem is that I know that I can’t dance and have no intention of learning, but that I want to learn more about acting and want to have the opportunity to do same, and I guarna-damn-tee you that I can out sing virtually every single body that shows up at an theater audition with men’s sized shoes, bearing a set of Testicles somewhere between their knees.

Doesn't matter...you got to PAY to get up there on stage.

You got to be willing to put up with INSANITY.

In my experience, it's worse than being married to a half dozen crazy women, and possibly a couple of "straight" guys.

I say "straight" because if the guys were GAY, at least they would smell good (and they could definitely dance and possibly sing while they're at it...)

But I digress...

I also screwed up the pre established, yet hyper-ineffective, pecking order a couple of years ago with my efforts in the theater set construction department.

Therein lies my current problem.

See, if you actually know SOMETHING about what you're talking about or are attempting to do most of the time, you get into trouble around here. I, on the other hand tend to avoid interjecting myself into the process when I know beforehand that I'm totally USELESS.

Everyone else seems to not know ANYTHING about the proceedings, but though the process of knowing all of the correct PEOPLE and endlessly hanging around the building; running all of the other much more qualified persons away, they manage to get their ill-fated opportunities…BY DEFAULT

Thus, my dilemma...I sit here at home for most of the theater season, wasting away hiding my talent(s) under a bushel basket, while our local theater companies stage musical plays featuring a boat load of untalented idiots that can’t act nor sing nor dance.

Isn’t the world a strange place to live in?

So sorry…I was just suffering from a moment of weakness and self pity…

It Would Seem That Sir Winston Is Writing About ME?

If The Shoe fits...


It was a pity that one, thus gloriously free from the ordinary restraining influences of human society, should have found in his own character so little mental ballast.

His moods were capricious and uncertain, his passions violent, his impulses sudden and inconsistent.

The mortal enemy of the morning had become a trusted ally before the night.

The friend he loved to-day he loathed to-morrow.

Scheme after scheme formed in his fertile brain, and jostled confusingly together.

All in succession were pressed with enthusiasm. All at times were rejected with disdain. A temperament naturally neurotic had been aggravated by an acquired habit of smoking; and the General carried this to so great an extreme that he was rarely seen without a cigarette.

His virtues are famous among men; his daring and resource might turn the tide or war; his energy would have animated a whole people; his achievements are upon record; but it must also be set down that few more uncertain and impracticable forces than Gordon have ever been introduced into administration and diplomacy.

Here...Read This...

Good God I Wish That I Could Write Like Sir Winston Churchill


Here's Sir Winston's description of some British military operations conducted in the late 19th century in the northern African Country of the Sudan, adjacent to the Nile River:

As the severity of military operations increases, so also must the sternness of discipline.

The zeal of the soldiers, their warlike instincts, and the interests and excitements of war may ensure obedience of orders and the cheerful endurance of perils and hardships during a short and prosperous campaign.

But when fortune is dubious or adverse; when retreats as well as advances are necessary; when supplies fail, arrangements miscarry, and disasters impend, and when the struggle is protracted, men can only be persuaded to accept evil things by the lively realisation of the fact that greater terrors await their refusal.

The ugly truth is revealed that fear is the foundation of obedience. It is certain that the influence of General Gordon upon the garrison and townspeople of Khartoum owed its greatest strength to that sinister element.

'It is quite painful,' he writes in his Journals in September, 'to see men tremble so, when they come and see me, that they cannot hold the match to their cigarette.'

Yet he employed all other methods of inspiring their efforts. As the winter drew on, the sufferings of the besieged increased and their faith in their commander and his promises of relief diminished.

To preserve their hopes--and, by their hopes, their courage and loyalty--was beyond the power of man. But what a great man in the utmost exercise of his faculties and authority might do, Gordon did...


Ten thousand men had thus been killed in the space of three months in the Eastern Soudan. By the discipline of their armies the Government were triumphant. The tribes of the Red Sea shore cowered before them.

But as they fought without reason, so they conquered without profit.


Do these word's not adequately describe some of the goings on which we all see in the world today?

I think so, but Sir Winston wrote these words way back in 1902 in a book called THE RIVER WAR--An Account of the Reconquest of the Sudan.

Click on the link and go LEARN something this morning, if you will...

Note To Self…

What’s Not To Understand here?


My eyes have glazed over and my brain has just about shut down from listening to the latest chapter of the JonBenet Ramsey Saga.

Why are we all being tortured this way?

No matter what happens, this cute little girl is dead, Dead, DEAD, and absolutely nothing can change that FACT after almost TEN years.

I want Gretta Van Damn Sustren and the rest of the media to give it a rest already.

Just like the more recent Natalee Holloway sensation, in both stories, the only thing that we are missing is the WEAPON.

I, personally think that the MURDERORS were each girl’s parents—specifically the so-called MOTHERS. They forced or otherwise allowed beautiful young girls to flounce around on the world stage like trollops, and—like flies to honey—the predators arrived and swept their children away.

Now, instead of enjoying the college careers of their daughters, ( JonBenet would be 16 years old this year and Natalee would be 20) Mrs. Beth Holloway Twitty and the recently departed Patsey Ramsey have nothing to show for their parenting efforts, and the rest of the world is collectively scratching their heads and asses trying to figure out what went wrong.

It seems pretty simple to me…

Parenting looks so easy from a distance.

I just barely managed to live thorough my own childhood, and would have never made it if it were not for my own wonderful parents.

At least I've had enough sense to not reproduce myself and, as a result, I don’t have any kids of my own to place at risk because of my stupidity…

But then again, in the end, without the responsibility and experience...who am I to argue?

I Are “The Pool Nazi”

Careful what you ask for…


This morning, for the second time in a week, I found someone sleeping in a vehicle or otherwise clandestinely using our parking lot without permission.

Earlier in the week I found a contractor that I knew was supposed to be working in a condo in our building sleeping in his Ford Van, with the drivers’ door open and the inside cockpit lights on.

After much consideration, I decided to cut him a break and not call the police since I knew that he belonged here and hadn’t caused any trouble thus far, and when I woke him he respectfully jumped up and removed himself from the public venue.

Tonight things were a little different, however.

I wandered outside about 4:30 AM for my morning swim, and to my surprise I found that there was a pickup truck sitting parked in front of the pool house with the engine running and the parking lights on.

Having been young once myself a few hundred years ago, I was willing to give the occupants the benefit of the doubt as I made myself and my presence in the pool area painfully obvious.

Silence.

Next I started feeling nervous, and the presence of the pickup and its occupant(s) or pants-less occupant(s) began to interfear with my morning ritual.

So I rattled around again like I was supposed to be there and was unaware of their presence.

Finally, I heard doors slamming and muffled voices and after a few minutes a young twenty something guy appeared, proceeded to ignore me while he darted into the men’s restroom in the pool house. He grunted something unintelligible as he answered my greeting and slammed the door.

A few moments later, upon his exit, I said “You’re welcome to use our facilities, but if you don’t belong here you need to leave NOW.

His answer?

"F**k you...."

"OOOOhhh Keeeee Dhooooo Keyyyyyy…Mr. personality" ran through my own head...

"You obviously don’t know who (or whom…I can never get that phrase straight) you are dealing with. "

I, being the self proclaimed “Condo Pool Nazi”, simply collected my posessions, saundered back to the condo, placed a non-emergency call to the Glynn County Police Department, and within about twenty minutes he (that would be “Mr. personality”) and his girlfriend were surrounded by two police cruisers, having police officers' flashlights illuminating their un-suntanned lily-white derieres as they tried to reinstall their underwear and other clothing.

Surprisingly enough, everyone was released without further incident as the embarrassed young female (I’m pretty sure I know who it was, and she weren’t where or with who (or whom) she was supposed to be with) sprinted back to her condo and the so-called 'gentleman" hurriedly drove away.

I guess that no one was drunk or had any other legal problems because the officers left empty handed. I watched, with a certain amount of mirth and satisfaction, the entire episode from the safety of my front patio.

Here's the moral of the Story (for those that don't know me or are otherwise not paying attention):

I'm normally a pretty understanding, cool guy, BUT...

don’t be coming to my neighborhood directing the “F” word at me, unless you are prepared to deal with the consequences...

After all, this is.........Mr. ROGERS' NEIGHBORHOOD

Plastic Pots

Give Me Terra Cotta


Here's a tip for everyone out there who want's to eventually retire and move to the beach to live.

My advice only takes three words...READY?

"Heavy Flower Pots."

Simple enough?

Here's the thing...Since we moved down here to our little island, we've managed to accumulate a couple of dozen tropical plants--Palms, Ferns, Spider Plants, etc.--and they almost all came from the store in undersized plastic pots.

No problem, I figured that we'd just buy new, bigger pots, some potting soil, and replant after the first season.

My first mistake was to buy ornamental, yet cheep, plastic pots for the replacements.

Did anyone but me not know that a 6' palm tree could fly, attached to a cheep plastic pot, when influenced by the average wind velocity found within a mile of the shoreline on a normal day?

Today is one of those days, and I'm spending my time wandering around picking up plants that have been upset by the pseudotropical squall that has developed off of the Georgia coast over the past couple of days.

My point is this...do yourself a favor and buy real pots for your plants, they'll be a lot happier and you won't get the extra exercise chasing them around your patio and terraces.

Quiet

Sometimes You Just Have To Be That Way...


Don't worry because I’m not writing a bunch of angry stuff right now.

There's nothing wrong with me, I'm just enjoying BEING right now.

Why don’t you folks go out and find your own crazy stuff to bitch and complain about this morning if you need to.

I'm just sitting here on our little island… acting like I’m on vacation.

And I’m thinking how good it is that at least I don’t live in Cuba, Israel, or over in Lebanon (not to mention New Jersey or New York City) where I would have to worry about locking my doors at night or having a rocket land in my living room floor, thereby damaging my nice wool rug or something…

Know What I mean?????


Chill…y’all