Fall Approaches

And Young Men's Thought Turn To What?...Halloween?


Boy oh boy has the weather ever shifted gears this week here on our little island.

I can walk outside for five minutes to take out the trash or amble around the yard picking up limbs and globs of Spanish moss off the lawn and come back inside without searching for a towel to dry my body on. I can sit on the sofa after an outside excursion without Pat making me sit on a beach towel.

I'm able to walk out into my new garage and work on projects like repainting my bike rack and actually see what I'm doing without pausing to wipe sweat out of my eyes every thirty seconds.

Speaking of Spanish Moss, be careful what you ask for because I've always thought it would be cool to live under Live Oak trees draped with the stuff, and now I've found out that Spanish Moss would apparently enjoy living on the ground rather than up in the limbs of trees, because I've hauled a couple of wheelbarrow loads worth over into our ever growing mulch pile in the past month.

I've basically got Spanish Moss growing on practically every surface except my ears and butt.

Seriously, the stuff is everywhere around here, even in the shrubbery. I think that our house plants will soon have moss growing in them if we're not careful.

If you'll send me your address, I'll ship you a big bail after the next thunderstorm knocks it out of the trees into the yard--for free.

I'm also happy to report that we're on diligent lookout for popcorn lung, particularly since the new place came with a built in microwave oven and I've taken to popping a bag every day or so. Thus far I've managed to avoid contracting this new malady, but you never know...and I enjoy a good media induced panic just like the next sucker fellow.

I'm sorry to report that my blogging has been suffering for no other reason than a total lack of effort, not lack of time. I've just been coasting along while I rearrange my priorities and schedule as new things catch my attention.

Tomorrow is "fence day" over at the Brunswick job site, with Home Depot delivering a load of pressure treated fence panels, 4x4 posts, and a new front door for the building. The City of Brunswick finally followed through with their promise to remove the giant pile of debris that my nighttime visitors had deposited on the alley side of the property, and I want to get the fence in place before anyone has the idea of rebuilding the impromptu landfill again.

I'm renting a so-called "one man" auger to dig the fence post holes with, instead of killing myself with a set of post hole diggers for a couple of hours. I think that it will be $30 well spent, but it's still going to be interesting getting five post holes on a straight line across the property line.

I may end up with the world's most crooked fence, but any fence is better than no fence at all, I guess.

Regarding my Halloween reference...we're getting to celebrate Halloween here for the first time in years. We're actually expecting trick-or-treaters for a change. The family next door has FIVE kids--what they were thinking I'll never know, but I do have a pretty good idea what they've been doing after the sun goes down.

In Atlanta I was usually out at a costume party on Halloween, else we lived in a Condo complex populated entirely by barren men and women over the age of twenty-one that were too busy drinking and exposing their body parts to each other on Halloween to bother stopping by to beg for candy.

At the Sea Palms condos we never got any kids to come by, and everyone but us that lived there was closer to 100 than costume wearing age so I ended up eating all of the candy that Pat didn't consume.

So any way, I'm thinking about working up a new costume this year, based on the old Viking theme that I built in the 1990's and won a number of contests with. I spent about $100 on the attire back then, and I probably won about $500 over a three or four year period attending contests hosted by various establishments like Dave and Busters and some other local pubs & Taverns. I also wore the costume at private gatherings and usually was credited with having one of the most elaborate home made disguises in the crowd.

I think that the "Orc's" from Middle Earth in the "Lord of the Rings" movies will also have some influence on my design, so I've been re-watching the movies the past couple of nights looking for inspiration.

My friend Robin, the yard guy the landscaper, just got here, so I have to go wave my arms and supervise his efforts now.

Wish me luck.

Words To Live By

As For Me...I'm Living The Lord Of The Rings...


The quest stands but upon the edge of a knife...

Stray but a little, and it will fail...

To The Ruin, OF ALL.

Things You (Won't) Find On The Internet

And A Day Off On My Birthday...


As you probably noticed, I didn't write anything yesterday. It turns out that I also ended up not reading much on the Internet either.

In spite of it being a red letter day on my personal calendar, after much consideration and little fan fair, it was only at the last minute that I decided what I was going to do yesterday on my birthday. It was basically by default.

I still had a great time, however, because I live on an island, and thus I'm already where many people want to go on vacation. I sometimes have to remind myself of that fact, but not often.

Any way, besides smoking three killer cigars, my day consisted of sleeping late, having a late lunch at the Sea Palms Country Club, then lounging by the pool at our old condo for a couple of hours sipping cheep light beer--enjoying the company of Pat and Missy the Turbo Pup.

The weather finally broke for us, and I wasn't about to waste the breezy clear sky's and high eighty degree temperatures sitting inside, working on construction, or even blogging.

Dinner consisted of a wonderful slab of pork tenderloin, grilled to about 150 degrees F inside, and a couple of ears of sweet ripe yellow corn roasted to death in the oven.

After dozing on the sofa while watching Clemson beat Florida State in football, I capped things off by smoking the third cigar while doing a midnight bike ride covering five or six miles looping around the south end of the island and stopping to look at the lighthouse and stare at the beach for a few minutes, contemplating what is quickly becoming a half century residing on our lovely planet.

I don't think of myself as old yet...just "experienced."

In my first forty-eight years I've done some stuff that most people have never accomplished, some of which people usually try not to do.

For instance, have you ever:

Survived plugging a bobby pin into an electric outlet?

Won third place in the Soap Box Derby?

Built a balsa wood gasoline powered model airplane from scratch that flew away out of sight?

Played a trumpet solo, standing in the middle of a football field, in front of six thousand people?

Walked outside in the eye of a hurricane to use a chain saw to cut the trees off your parent's house and cars?

Took off and landed in a helicopter on an aircraft carrier? Flown a helicopter with an instructor pilot?

Helped dig bus passenger victims out of the mud from a landslide in the Philippines?

Been to Alaska?

Received a ticket for driving 110 MPH in a 55 MPH zone?

Had a shotgun pumped in your back and the barrel of a pistol broken off on your head in a robbery?

Took off and landed solo in an airplane? At more than one airport?

Driven a power boat 20 miles off shore, out of sight of land, and returned to the marina on time and without having to call the Coast Guard or appear on CNN?

Built over 400 industrial smoke stacks, and the process climbed a ladder 200' tall; or been lifted by a crane 250' into the air in a metal basket?

Designed and built your own house?

Attended a bowl game where your college football team won the NCAA Division I national championship?

Made a million dollars?

Lost a million and one half dollars?

Seen the smile on the face of a new homeowner when they get the keys for their new Habitat for Humanity house?

Survived having your house burn down?

Lived on the beach on the Gulf of Mexico?

Water skied in Montego Bay Jamaica?

Lived on a boat?

Lived on a Barrier Island?

Drank a beer with Travis Tritt?

Played the part of an insane guy in a mental institute? Or designed and built the set for a play?

Played harmonica on stage with Blues guitarist Theodis Ealy?

Written a Blog?

No?

Well, get busy then.

I've got to go now and try to think up some more stuff to do over the next 48 years...

UPDATED...

I almost forgot to mention these antics:

Taking off and landing from the water in a 1948 Grumman "Goose" seaplane on my way from Ft. Lauderdale to Walker's Cay Bahamas.

Scuba diving to the bottom 120' below the surface of the sea on the same trip.

Scuba diving with over 100 sharks (bulls, black tips, Nurse, Caribbean reef) and a bunch of other stuff with teeth on two different one hour dives on the same trip in 1997.

Dogs More Important Than Late Term Fetuses?

Michael Vick Found Out The Hard Way...


Take a look at this story titled "Vick Case Highlights Dog's High US Status":

DALLAS (Reuters) - Dogfighting is condemned as illegal in all 50 states, and this probably says as much about the dog's high standing in U.S. culture as it does about the cruelty of the blood sport.

It came under the spotlight after football star Michael Vick of the Atlanta Falcons pleaded guilty in Virginia last week for his involvement in a dogfighting case that will almost certainly land him in jail.

This high standing for dogs in the United States is not shared by all cultures, notably some Asian countries where dogs are food, and much of Africa, South Asia and the Arab world where they are often viewed with disdain.

"Dogs have a very special place in American culture," said Wayne Pacelle, president of The Humane Society of the United States.

Does anyone else but me wonder if Vick had been a licenced MD instead of a professional football player, and he had daily reached inside a woman's womb to punch a hole into a six month old developing fetus' head, and then vacuumed its remains out into a stainless steel tank; what these same Americans would have had to say about his criminal status, his ethics, and his humanity (or the lack thereof)?

I'd say he'd not only still have his job, but he'd probably be out shopping for a new car or possibly a 50' powerboat over the Labor Day weekend, instead of skulking away in seclusion somewhere offshore awaiting sentencing and avoiding the prying lenses of news reporters.

Maybe it's just me...(and no, I don't agree that he should not have been convicted for dogfighting.)

Monsoon Season On The Georgia Coast

Anybody Have A Human Sized Zip Lock Baggie?


Well, it started raining about 5 PM on Friday, and has only let up for a few hours at a time since then.

I worked my butt off from noon till about about 4 PM putting the finishing touches on the big pyramid sections, and then breaking them down to load into the equipment trailer. My heart was sinking as the sky's turned darker and darker

Kickoff was supposed to be at 7:30, but by then there was at least two inches of water standing over half of every grass and concrete surface in south Georgia.

The professional jock wannabe's "officials" that were in charge of the proceedings held off until it quit lightening, which was about 8:15, then the two football teams took the field while the band members sat in their buses and my pyramid lounged in its bungee corded position in the trailer.

Meanwhile I paced around from water puddle to water puddle in a throw away poncho wearing wet shoes and socks, and come halftime the band was on the field and my masterpiece was relegated to stay out of sight for the evening.

Dang it...the next three games are away games and I really don't want to start traveling with the team, but I also need to be there the first time to show the other volunteers how to handle the assembly and dis-assembly.

Meanwhile, the rest of the labor day weekend has thus far been cloudy and soggy--I bet we've had four or five inches of rain since Friday, and the pool and the beach has been out of the question.

The only good news thus far has been, confined indoors, that I've cooked some killer food, including a funky Portabello/Shitaki mushroom pesto pizza last night that ROCKED.

In fact, I think that it's time to go reheat some pizza slices for a leftover lunch...

Home Again

Up Early...Tired...And Quite Busy


Besides avoiding tapping my toes in restroom stalls, now I have to worry about helping getting nearly 100 kids and a giant pyramid onto the football field at half-time of the football game about 8:45 PM tonight.

It makes me tired just thinking about it...

Guns For Everyone...And Put Them On My Tab...

More Political Incorrectness


I've enjoyed reading the local edition of the Atlanta Urinal & Constipation Journal & Constitution for the past two days, and it's been amazing the amount of vitriol aimed at Michael Vick and his recent public statement(s).

All of the city's mindless boosters and pro-sports fans that declared Vick the end-all do-all handy-dandy panacea solution of the woes of the only team besides the Braves that spent zillions of dollars on salary for grown men to play boys games are continuing to bitch and complain and choke on their predictions of greatness and a football dynasty developing down at the Georgia Dome.

Another AJC article that caught my eye was this one about gun ownership here in the US compared to the rest of the world (click):


United States the world leader in gun ownership
ASSOCIATED PRESS
Published on: 08/29/07

There are nine guns for every 10 people in the United States, with about 270 million firearms in circulation, according to a report released Tuesday.

People well-armed: Worldwide, civilians now have access to 650 million small arms — from handguns to semiautomatic rifles — an arsenal that far outstrips what is held by police and militaries, according to the annual Small Arms Survey. It estimates that civilians account for about three-fourths of the 875 million such weapons in circulation.

U.S. the leader: The United States has the heaviest concentration of firearms. Of the 8 million new firearms manufactured annually around the world, roughly 4.5 million are bought in the United States.

Other countries with high per capita ownership include Yemen, with 61 small arms per 100 people; Finland with 56; Switzerland with 46; and Iraq with 39.

Much lower on the scale are Brazil, with nine guns per 100 people, England and Wales with six, India with four, China with three and Nigeria with one.

Of course the Associated press breathlessly reports these statistics like they are a bad thing in the headline, but then goes on to say that the level of gun ownership might not actually be the cause of crime when the true details are analysed.

I Agree totally, and having had the barrel of a crappy medium caliber revolver broken off its frame on the back of my hard head nearly thirty years ago in a robbery, I subscribe to the idea that anything can be a deadly weapon in the hands of someone that wants to hurt or kill you.

You can be killed with a salt shaker poked into your eye or other bodily orifice, and you can succumb to a pool cue or bar stool driven across your shoulder blades.

So why don't we ban salt shakers, pool cues, and bar stools along with guns?

After all, I bet the number of bar stools in Europe approaches that of the US on a per capita basis.

You can also drown in a Cool Whip bowl full of water if someone holds your face in it long enough--let's outlaw Cool Whip and water while we're at it..

All I can say is that the anti-gun weenies need to just shut the hell up and go home and eat some Tofu and recharge their stun guns and cans of mace and watch another evening of PBS TV programming.

By the way, I'm afraid that I'm guilty of skewing the statistics upward in a significant way, because if you come down to one of the places which I occasionally occupy here in the SOUTHERN UNITED STATES, you will find the gun to owner ratio to be more like SIX guns per person...

...and that "one person" would be ME.

Now put that in your pipe and smoke it.

The Main Difference Between Georgia and Rhode Island

May I Have A Drum Roll Please?


The answer to my question (In my considered Redneck Opinion):

"They still sell Guns in our Georgia Wal Marts. (click)"

AP
FBI Investigating Threats to U.S. Stores
Wednesday August 29, 3:24 pm ET
By Eric Tucker, Associated Press Writer

Bomb Threat to RI Wal-Mart Leads to Evacuation, Money Transfer; FBI Says May Be Broader Scam

NEWPORT, R.I. (AP) -- A bomb threat that caused the evacuation of a Wal-Mart and led employees to wire $10,000 to the caller appears to be part of a broader scam targeting other businesses around the country, authorities said.


...Damn Limp Wristed Yankies

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Do You Think That (Some) Dog's Aren't Brilliant???

Then Take Mine Onto An Elevator


I've observed an amazing phenomena regarding Missy, the Turbo Pup, and her understanding of modern infrastructure in our last two visits to the Atlanta metro area.

She somehow understands the concept of walking into and out of an elevator, and the differences on each floor once she exits the "magic door" that opens and closes to lock her into the big metal box that moves her and her entourage up and down the building's entrails.

Think about it for a minute, if you will.

I would have expected that to a dog (or any other human or animal that hasn't graduated like Jethro Bodine from the Sixth Grade), one would expect when the door opens and closes that the same things, including people and floor plan, would be outside the opening.

Not so with the turbo pup.

She jumps on the elevator without any apprehension and makes left and right decisions upon her exit from the vertical conveyance better than I do.

Does anyone need an eight pound seeing eye dog?



Well, I'm sorry...but you can't have her.



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They Paved Paradise

And Put In An Interstate...


Well, I've gotten through about 18 hours being back in my adopted home town of Smyrna/Vinings, Georgia without incident, but it took only about thirty minutes to remember why we left here in the first place.

GOOD GOD WHAT AWFUL TRAFFIC.

That, and Interstates like I-285 that have more pavement in a two mile stretch of eight or ten lanes than currently exists on all of St. Simons Island.

The traffic is amazing, and Pat's and my own driving skills have been dulled by the slow pace on our little island to the point where we have no desire to own things like radar detectors and run around eating bagels, reading the newspaper--steering the car with our knees while driving along in a dense pack of cars and semi trucks at 80 MPH.

Everyone else here at least tries to do things like that while we lope along at 54 MPH.

Once you get out of the rat race I guess that it's hard to go back, or to even understand why you were there and put up with two plus hour daily round trip commutes in the first place.

I waste more time on the computer each day than I used to spend driving to work for almost ten years, back before I started my own company and started working from home.

The next best thing I did after that lifestyle improvement was to move our "home" from inside the rat race to our little Island, and I have to admit that I can hardly wait to get back on the road tomorrow morning heading away from this old, vaguely familiar reality...

the daily reality for about four million miserable, mis-informed souls.

Ya'll come see us now...ya hear?

She Took A Friend Along

The Odd Couple

By the way Mom...we made it to Atlanta so you can stop worrying now.

On The Road Again

Willie Nelson I'm Not...


Well, we're off to Brunswick to finalize the big Pyramid structure, then it's up I-16 and I-75 back to Hotlanta for a couple of days.

Ya'll feel free to entertain yourselves in the mean time...

An Explosion In Atlanta

And I Get To Go Look At The Results...


I've mentioned in the past that I've been working for a while with a friend's engineering firm as a Forensic Engineer, looking into industrial steam system accidents that either damaged equipment or killed/injured people.

At the risk of sounding like a ghoul, I have to admit that it's pretty interesting stuff most of the time, even though there are a bunch of lawyers circling around the area getting in the way and, the people and the firms they work for are tight lipped--afraid that we're going to end up placing the blame with them or their company.

Any way, there was an explosion in the laundry area of one of the big downtown Atlanta hotels last month, and thus far all I've seen is pictures and had phone call discussions about what might have happened.

This Tuesday morning I'm driving up to Atlanta to take a look at the accident scene which has been preserved under OSHA and other government mandate while all of the vultures lawyers and their hired guns nerds expert witnesses look at the details of a pretty spectacular event that I wouldn't want to have been in the same room with when it happened.

Pat and Missy, the Turbo Pup, are going along with me as we take the opportunity to visit with some old friends and eat at a few of our favorite restaurants. This will be only the second trip to Atlanta (if you don't count changing planes in the Atlanta Airport), a place I resided in for 27 years, since we moved down here to our little island back in 2004.

My writing continues to suffer under my consulting work load and the pressures of fine tuning the new house and building my giant pyramid which I now have to deliver complete tomorrow--three days early--in anticipation of being in Atlanta this week.

I hope to be able to return on Wednesday or Thursday in time to be on the sidelines with the kids and my monstrosity creation for their home opener game, but who knows what opportunities will develop in the mean time.

I'll be sure to say hello to Michael Vick for you all if I see him, because the Federal Courthouse is just down the street from the accident scene...

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Sometimes It's Like This At Our House

It's A Stampeed...Everybody Run For Your Life

Castro Dead?

Not At All A Bad Thing...IF It's True


I have to admit that I'm not on the ball right now with my Internet news reading, but one of my blog Idols down in Miami, Val over at Babalu Blog, has it on pretty good authority that Fidel Castro has finally decided to take the eternal dirt nap.

Of course the lamestream media is hesitant to report on the potential demise of the originator of the greatest government run health care system in the entire world. Even FOX news hasn't mentioned it (the rumor) in the past half hour.

I was born about the time this useless bastard took the reins down in Cuba, and for all of my life I've looked at the map and flown over the country in an airliner wishing that I could visit one day.

If it's true, I'll be on one of the first planes heading down there later this winter looking for some good cigars and the opportunity to visit the place that Hemingway called home for part of his life.

Keep your fingers crossed.

24 Hours To Pizza Night

Simple Pleasures For Simple Minds...


Needless to say that I've had a less than optimal week here, with most everyone that owes me money telling me why they haven't paid me or why they won't pay me what they owe me.

Then there is the problem with the ones that I owe clamoring for more that I actually owe. Even the water company has to get a presidential pardon issued to explain the six thousand gallons of water that escaped when the thieves ran off with my rental property's copper water lines a few weeks ago.

Finally, there is some other personal crap that's going on that isn't worth mentioning or writing about that won't end the world, but all the same it has managed to get in the way of a a good deal of productive time and caused my normal bitching and complaining attitude to sink into an un-presentable funk.

Thank GOD it's Friday and tomorrow night is PIZZA NIGHT...

I'm going out for dinner, then I think that I'll come home and start bitching again.

Get ready for a good rant or two...

If You Can't Say Nuthin' Nice (Or At least Intelligent)

Don't Say Nuthin' At All...


Sorry, but I'm taking my own advice right now.

Later, Y'all

PVC Pyramids

Plastic & Spandex Is Faster Than Stone...


I've spent part of the past week finishing up my design for the "Pyramid's of Egypt" prop for the Glynn Academy Marching Band's halftime show this season.

Thankfully, by both attrition and executive decision, the scope of my responsibilities was reduced by at least two thirds.

By last week the only thing left in the plan was a giant fabric covered Pyramid that would be constructed in three parts and moved onto and off of the field at each game.

The original 10' diagonal size produced a wimpy looking diminutive structure, so last weekend the band director gave me the go ahead to increase things by 50%.

Right now I'm stumbling around my driveway with 24 ten foot lengths of 1-1/2" PVC and a couple dozen elbows and tees trying to assemble my Egyptian vision in time for band practice at 3 PM this afternoon.

Then I have to beat a couple of delinquent female band parents into compliance in order to get 30 yards of 60" wide tan spandex sewn together in time for the August 31 opening game.

I wish I had a few thousand slaves to help me, but the Gatorade costs and toilet facilities are probably beyond my means.

Photos of King Virgil III's Tomb available shortly...

Lethargy Setting In

Somebody Poke Me With A Cattle Prod...


Today I did something I haven't done in a few years.

I cleaned out and organized my new garage.

I know that there are some of you out there which are green with envy, and some want me to stop by and do the same to their garage.

Fat Chance...

When I thought about it, I was surprised to realize how long it had been. I've been living in condos and on boats for most of the past 13 years, so the best I've usually had is a carport to shield my four wheeled conveyances from the elements.

Now once again I have a room with a giant overhead door full of washers, dryers, freezers, air compressors, boxes full of tools and construction supplies, and the obligatory garage "stuff."

Everything but an actual Automobile is in my garage as I write, and that is because I don't think that there is room because of all of the other stuff we have crammed in there.

That's OK...I feel so totally suburban and complete now.

Any way...I admit that my writing has been totally sucking the past few months with virtually nothing happening here on the blogs (other than keeping some sort of public diary,) and both books are at a total standstill.

I tripped over a two inch thick draft copy of the cookbook while unpacking during the move and it made me feel guilty. It has also forced me to start posting a few new recipes over at The Redneck Gourmet.

I guess that I have a hard time partitioning up my days to include physical labor like working on the duplex and then have the mental stamina to write intelligent or glib or humorous rants like I have done some of the time in the past.

Maybe I should just go back to being a virtual homeless unemployed slob and drag my computer around with me to places like Starbucks and other Internet hotspots and see if I can get some quality writing done. Even McDonalds has free Internet here on our little Island.

I had a publisher interested in the cookbook back a couple of years ago, but he's probably died or started selling real estate while waiting for me to submit a couple of chapters of edited manuscript.

He also told me that I should plan on getting some fantastic pictures of my food because pictures sell cookbooks, especially "coffee table" type cookbooks that people that never actually cook will drop $25 on at Barns & Noble. The only problem is that my cookbook is written with slobby middle aged divorced men in mind--guys that would starve to death eating Spam and Cheetos and would never get a second date with a decent woman if they tried to cook on their first date.

Instead of hiring a professional food photographer, I got a nice expensive camera and began a two year diversion fooling around with photography and entering photo contests rather than writing about cooking.

Now I've realized that taking publication quality pictures of food found sitting on your kitchen cabinet, dining room table, or on your stovetop with crappy fluorescent lighting or a single 100 watt bulb is next to impossible.

It was still a fun diversion in the end, and I do have some lovely pictures of my dog and my foot and some sunrises here on the Georgia Coast.

Over the years I've written some pretty serious stuff here on this blog, particularly back just before and right after the 2004 election. I like to think of myself as something other than a partisan hack, although I tend to vote with the Republicans most of the time because the Libertarians can't seem to field any serious candidates on the national political stage.

Writing about politics tends to either bore people to death else make them to try to find out where you live and come to your house to smear you with animal blood or stomp around on your car hood.

Thus I try to pick my topics carefully and then do a good deal of research before I place the first finger on the keyboard.

Still, I always love to pick on the "professional media", and a commenter who calls hinself/herself "Sommelier" and who is apparently a long term reader called me out this past week about something I wrote without knowing the real detailed facts.

Here's what they said:

I don't know where you get your statistics on media professionals, but I'm certain they are not even remotely accurate. You continually bash the "professional" media, yet you previously stated a "personal" dream that entailed working at a newspaper as a "professional" journalist. Sorry, pal, all your ranting appears nothing more than sour grapes.

And here's the passage I wrote that my reader is referencing from last Friday's posting:

As usual, the "professional" media is freaking out about the usual stupid things.

Things like hurricanes, the stock market, the housing bubble, and trapped coal miners.

I have to admit that I'm having a good deal of trouble lifting a finger and pointing it toward a keyboard to even offer an intelligent rebuttal. What can I say anyway?

The media is populated largely by the bottom 25% of each class of high school graduates and college freshmen that ended up in Journalism by default after they flunked out of the Music department because they couldn't play an instrument or carry a tune in a bucket singing.

On second thought, that assessment was probably unfair AND inaccurate, but in my defense it was written somewhat tongue in cheek if you followed the entire context of what I was saying.

Still, I offer my apology to anyone who is a journalist, is in Journalism school, or whose child or other family member or friend is a professional in the industry.

(Now I'm gonna probably piss Sommelier off again...)

In my defense, I just can't help myself sometimes because the product produced by the professional media SUCKS so badly so much of the time.

If Columbia University--a place recognized as having one of the best journalism programs in the country; a place that only accepts about 9% of their freshman applicants; a place that has graduates living and working in the highest positions of the print and "legacy" media--can't give the public graduates that produce a quality, unbiased, fact based product telling us what is ACTUALLY happening out there in the world rather than disguising EDITORIAL COMMENTARY published as substantial portions of each and every news story, then I feel obligated to take shots at them whenever I can.

By the way, if you went to the local Junior College to get your Journalism classes then I expect the same standards for your product also.

Facts, FACTS, FACTS.

Who What When Where.

Let me decide the rest for myself.

And yes, I have said that I aspire to write as a published writer, possibly in the news field, and NO I should not resort to generalities and "cheep shots" else I'm no better than those I criticize.

But...

I'll close by offering this analogy.

If the men and women working in the field of Engineering (something that I do know a great deal about and have a four year college education in) were to as a group consciously elect to perform their jobs in the same manner and with the same accuracy as many (but not all) of those working as journalists, we'd have Delta airliners falling out of the sky and Ocean Liners sinking to the bottom of the Seas on a daily basis.

Further, I'd never drive a new car across a concrete bridge ever again in my life and in fact, I'd be afraid to put a piece of bread in a toaster or Nuke a bag of Microwave popcorn for fear of having the house burn down or what little brains I have left in my head zapped with radiation.

How's that for an accurate generalization?

Pizza Revelation

A Saturday Night Tradition


After doing virtually nothing all day today (as opposed to getting virtually nothing done), I fired up the new oven and worked on my thin crust pizza recipe. The solution is coming along nicely, and I feel good enough about things to publish it for public consumption.

Here's what you need to make a nice 15" thin crust pizza...

For the starter dough:

1/4 cup of 110 degree F water
1 pack of yeast

3/4 cup of flour


For the main dough:

3/4 cup of room temperature water

1-1/2 cup flour
1 teaspoon salt
pinch of sugar

Toppings (add or subtract as you like, but you really should try this combo unless something on the list gives you hives or makes your spleen rupture or something...):

olive oil

1 pound whole milk mozzarella cheese, cut into little blobs and evenly distributed
Enough pepperoni slices to cover the affected area
Four (4) strips of bacon, fried crisp and crumbled
1 small chicken breast half--pan seared to about 140 degrees F
A couple of hand fulls of baby spinach leaves
Fresh sliced mushrooms
3/4 cup of diced colored bell peppers (I used orange, Red, AND Yellow)
1/2 cup sliced red onion
1 small can of sliced black olives
6 oz of crumbled feta cheese (put it right on top of everything when you're finished)

First things first.

Put your yeast in the warm water, stir it up well, and let is sit for about fifteen minutes.

Once you have a bunch of hungry yeast breasties, howling for something to eat, dump your yeast/water mixture into your 3/4 cup of starter flour, stir it up to form a blob of dough, cover it with a clean dishtowel, and walk away and ignore it while it rises for a half hour or so.

Make yourself a nice glass of iced tea or open a beer and watch TV while you wait.

Now here's the difference between thick and thin crust...

You DON'T do a secondary rise on the dough. It's just that simple.

You dump your 3/4 cup of water into your starter dough to dilute, stir it all up, then pour it into a medium mixing bowl with your flour, salt, and sugar mixture.

Stir, stir, stir.

Do you have a stiff, yet slightly wet dough mixture yet?

No?

Then add a LITTLE flour or water until you get it right, then dump it all out onto a floured surface and start working it over with your hands.

Preheat your oven to 500 degrees F.

Now the idea is to incorporate some more flour into the slightly wet dough, ending up with extra on the outside surfaces as you begin to flatten it out to form a crust. After two or three minutes of kneading, break out your rolling pin and roll things out to a nice uniform disk about 18" in diameter and 1/4" to 3/8" thick (I use a 15" pizza stone to cook on.)

When you're finished rolling, pick up your crust and carefully place it on your pan or stone (dusted well with flour), then fold and pinch the extra 1-1/2" of dough over around the edges to form a rim on the crust.

Next spoon out some olive oil (a table spoon or two) onto the middle of your masterpiece and smear it around the area inside the rim, then add your cheese, meat, and veggies, toss the whole thing into the oven for 17 to 20 minutes (depending on your oven), pull it out and let it cool a little, cut it into slices, then grab yourself a napkin and EAT.

I swear that there is a chemical reaction in my recipe that has the same effect of a sleeping pill, because I'm usually asleep within thirty minutes after eating my deluxe homemade pizza, regardless of the crust thickness.

My little Missy, the Turbo Pup, likes her pizza crust pretty well also, and tonight she ate her fill sitting there along with the rest of the family.

Life's good here on our little island...hope that the same is true for you.

Roof On...Dumpster Gone

Life Returning To Abnormal


Well, our roofers left here on Wednesday a little after noon, and a truck finally showed up to remove the dumpster from it's spot blocking my garage door about 3:30 PM yesterday, thus ending our torture in a mercifully short period of time.

The way things started, I was actually expecting at least a week long saga, but I was obviously wrong.

What kills me is how they managed to convert what should have been a one day job into three days of upset for the people residing in the property they were working on.

I guess that if you were born in a barn or spend your adult life living in a barn (with all due respect to Jesus) like most of these guys apparently did or do, there is a certain degree of satisfaction to be gained by interrupting the lives of "all them rich people" that live "out on that there island."

You might have to live here in Glynn county to catch the meaning and humor in that statement...

but any way...

As usual, the "professional" media is freaking out about the usual stupid things.

Things like hurricanes, the stock market, the housing bubble, and trapped coal miners.

I have to admit that I'm having a good deal of trouble lifting a finger and pointing it toward a keyboard to even offer an intelligent rebuttal. What can I say anyway?

The media is populated largely by the bottom 25% of each class of high school graduates and college freshmen that ended up in Journalism by default after they flunked out of the Music department because they couldn't play an instrument or carry a tune in a bucket singing.

I, on the other hand, continue to increase my mental powers and now spend my time contemplating issues far beyond the interest of the average human. In fact, I've discovered something akin to "Viagra" for the mind that is not only safe, legal, and readily available, but unfortunately occasionally causes swelling of my head that lasts longer than four hours.

When that happens, the blood supply to my brain causes me to look something like this:






I've got to go now and work on solving the world's problems...

Still Angry

But Going Away From Us

Latest Satellite Photo's In

Dean's Getting Angrier

Enough Said...I Think...

New Home Office

Information Overload


Have I ever mentioned that I've conducted my business from my home for the past 17 years?

Of course some of that time "my business" was "no business."

Some people call that condition being "retired."

Involuntarily or otherwise.

Over the past few years my property was downsized by choice and circumstance, until finally my home office consisted of a place on the sofa and coffee table. Since Pat also did her 8 to 5 work from home for a "real company", we always emphasized her office needs and gave her a a nice spot in a room by herself.

Not so here in our new Island Casa Grande.

It's super sized, and I've commandeered the formal living room as my own personal empire. Herein I'm in the process of establishing a computer workstation area, a drafting drawing area, and a painting/artwork area in addition to using the walls as a gallery to display my current and past work.

Perhaps the coolest part of the setup is my ability to connect the stupid old Comcast cable signal to my HP notebook and watch TV in a window while I work and blog.

Right now, in addition to watching Fox News, I have AutoCAD open in one window, a couple of browser windows open on the Internet, and I have the local Talk Radio Show playing on the Radio in the background.

I have a problem sometimes remembering which key to hit on the keyboard, but that's not in itself a bad thing...I guess.

Living In A Construction Zone

All Most Contractors Suck...


OK, don't start commenting and E-mailing me because your daddy or your brother or your husband is a contractor, because I--your lovely and talented blogger--are is am a contractor and have been in the contracting business for nearly 25 years in one capacity or another and I know what I'm talking about here.

Like I said...MOST Contractors SUCK.

That's right, in any given trade, specialty or area of operation, there is generally more work than there are competent, conscientious companies and more importantly--PEOPLE--to do said work, and so most construction, remodeling, and repair jobs are a serious study in insanity and human ineptitude and owner/customer patience.

Take our present home re roofing project, for example.

We found out on Saturday that our landlord had taken my advice and gotten some quotes on doing a new roof here at our new island home. Instead of getting the work done BEFORE we moved in, the late departure of the previous tenant and various other factors like procrastination caused her to wait until NOW to execute the project.

They were supposed to start work Monday at 9 AM.

Hurray...a new roof...we ran around in circles celebrating and made the necessary preparations like moving all of the plants into the garage and sun porch, moving my Suburban around the corner to a retail parking lot, and battening down the hatches and scaring off all the animals and small children in anticipation.

Then Monday came and went...and at the end of the day we still had the same old roof and the plants were undisturbed.

NO CONTRACTOR.

Yesterday morning at 7:10 AM we were rousted out of bed by the doorbell and guess what?

Our Contractor had arrived, with five pickup trucks, a flatbed truck, a dumpster, and a fork lift.

"Sir...can you please move your VEhickle?"

I complied, and for the next four hours they banged and pounded and scraped and generally raised a dust storm.

Then about 11 AM they left, presumably to go to lunch.

We haven't seen any sign of them since, except that a guy came back a couple of times to steal a piece of aluminum flashing out of a box laying on the driveway.

You guessed it.

Our CONTRACTOR JUST CAME BY TO MAKE AN APPEARANCE.

Our contractor is doing two or more jobs at once with the same crew.

Our contractor is going to force us to endure what should be a one and one half day job for two or more days, and not clean up when he suddenly leaves the job site each day, and make us enjoy having a ten cubic yard dumpster sitting two feet in front of our garage door.

I spent a half hour cursing and sweeping the back patio, front sidewalk, and driveway off to ensure that our contractor didn't injure a human foot, dog toe, or car tire with his hastily created debris.

I have just one question.

Why didn't this rocket scientist just admit to the owner and/or the residents that he was running behind, and start the job when he could finish it in a single mobilization?

THAT would have been too easy.

THAT would have made sense.

THAT would have been considerate to the people that have to live on the construction site.

But NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. can't do THAT.

Damn Contractors...

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Mean Dean Cometh

While FEMA Makes Me Wait...


Sorry about the light posting (OK, no posting yesterday), but between the new house, my consulting work, and planning for the construction of a giant Pyramid and my much neglected duplex project I'm a little past busy.

For those of you paying attention, the annual Perseid Meteor Shower was pretty much a bust down here on our little island because of the weather.

Sunday night, the peak, was obscured by remnant cloudiness from evening thunderstorms, and excursions out to the beach on my bike Friday night and last night met with conditions obscured by the evening "salt haze" that sometimes blows in off the ocean in warm conditions.

Oh well, at least I tried.

Meanwhile, all you have to do is turn on the TV to see what could possibly be our next weather event down here...soon to be Hurricane Dean:




Of course there is a good deal of leeway as to it's final track, but if you live anywhere between Puerto Rico and NY City you better be paying close attention starting about Friday of this week.

We still have our fingers crossed here as we have 17 days left in our waiting period for our new flood insurance to take effect on the new house.

Time to go get some more CAD work done...

Does Anyone But Me Not Care What The People In Iowa Think?

Yawn...


Just in case you haven't heard, they had something called a "Straw Pole" out in Iowa yesterday. I don't know if they were actually handing out the straws or if you had to think ahead and bring your own to the proceedings.

At least someone was smart enough to hold something resembling an election on Saturday so that the productive people that hold regular jobs could participate.

Of course it might not make much difference in Iowa because the brutal winters generally keep the homeless population to somewhere down around three or four people most years.

Homeless people favor warm climates like Atlanta, or even San Francisco because all of the Yuppies and old hippies have grown up feeling guilty and will actually pay you to be homeless out there if you will stay off of their street and not pee on the front door of their office building.

Any way, a bunch of people out in Iowa drove their Massey Fergusons to town yesterday and told America what they thought about the current slate of Presidential wannabes that are willing to put a "R" beside their name in November of 2008.

What is it about the state of Massachusetts that makes people want to vote for men from up there in that region of the country?

Looking at what we've gotten out of Ted Kennedy and John sKerry over the past thirty or so years, it would seem that the American people would run far far away from anyone from the Beantown State, yet here is former MA Governor Mitt Romney taking the lead by 14 more straws than anyone else.

Perhaps he could open his own Soda Fountain using his winnings as inventory?

Or maybe it's the baseball reference in his name...I don't know.

Any way, I just sit here and shrug my shoulders at the whole proceedings because it always amazes me that Iowa is such a big deal every four years. Most of the political elite on both sides of the isle generally consider people from Iowa right up there with all of us hicks from Georgia, Alabama, and Mississippi when it comes to intellectual savvy.

In my experience, when you own your "Sunday-Go-To-Meeting-Pickup" and your "every-day-working pickup truck" (and possibly a third one called your huntin' & fishin' pickup truck,) people in Massachusetts generally don't listen to much of what you have to say about things like Calculus and Social Security reform.

So what's the big deal about Iowa then?


Pandering?


Charity?


Just outright butt kissing, maybe?

I don't know, but now I hear that South Carolina is jockeying with the other states like the know-it-all-Yankees up in New Hampshire to be the second state to have a primary next year.

God help us.

The political elites and the left, along with all of the late night talk show hosts, will have an absolute field day with this situation if the trend continues.

Why don't we all just shut up and wait at least until the Democratic and Republican conventions next summer to start getting all worked up and hyperventilating, or maybe until November 2008 and let the chips fall where they may?

Or maybe they could line everybody up based on SAT scores or the state's average college GPA and have primaries...or better yet--play a football or basketball game to determine the candidates?

In my opinion, most of the people on the list these days are completely unqualified to run a Waffle House or Pizza Hut Restaurant, let alone become the leader of the most powerful country in the world.

Who are we fooling here anyway?

I remember that down in south Alabama we used to have this colorful fellow named Shorty Price that ran for virtually every office at the state level in Alabama in the 1960's and early 1970's.

Shorty was George Wallace's roommate back in the 1940's at the University of Alabama, but somewhere along the way they had a falling out and Shorty dogged George for the rest of his political career.

I say that if we're going to have to be forced to decide from a list making a choice between a bunch of unqualified Clowns, I wish there were a few more serious clowns that actually know they're clowns like Shorty Price on the ballot so I could make a conscientious selection when I finally go to the poll to waste my vote when election day finally gets here.

John Edwards and John sKerry are shallow images of old Shorty Price, in my opinion.

Shorty...where are you when we all need you for some comic relief today?

.

You Can Take The Dog Out Of The Yard...

But You Can't Take The Yard Out Of The Dog

Here's my little Missy, the Turbo Pup...freshly bathed and wallowing in the dirt on the patio...

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Comcast Bites

New Blog Effort In The Blogging New year...


Hey guys, take the time to visit my new blog, Comcast Bites. I'm gonna bitch and complain and also report the facts in our efforts to kill the Comcast Internet bait and evil switch business.

They just basically told Pat "tough shisky", because she called to activate the service and she has no proof that the representative told her she could have the $19.95 monthly new customer rate rather than their normal rate of nearly $50 which I could have gotten for moving the account in my name.

Screw Comcast, I have at least an hour each day to moderate this new forum of disgruntled and disenfranchised customers.

Got a complaint about Comcast...I want to hear about it.

See you there...


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Three Years Of Blogging

Has It Really Been That Long?


Well folks, 1418 Posting later, and what began as a series of essays delivered to my friends as E-mails in July and August of 2004 is now what you see here today.

I didn't really understand what I was getting into at the time, but I did know that the other side of my brain--the half which I had ignored as a math/science based engineering nerd for forty plus years--was looking for an outlet and words were trying to burst forth out of my finger tips onto my computer keyboard.

On August 10th, 2004 I decided to begin assaulting the world with my rantings, and 34 thousand hits later, here we all are today.

I admit that I do look at the hit counter, but I don't really write to get hits or readers...what I have to say is what I have to say at any given moment of any given day. I've also thus far avoided making you look at advertisement and ads on my site. It's tough passing up 39 cents a day in easy income, but I think that I can make it without making you endure commercialism here in my little part of the Internet.

I'd like to think that some of what I have to say is original and thought provoking, even if the only thoughts I provoke are of you getting onto an airplane and flying to the Georgia coast to beat me to death for my inane stupidity.

Regardless of what you think, thanks for stopping by here once in a while to see what's going on.

You can expect to see some changes and improvements in the blog format later this year, and with the new and improved kitchen facilities here in the new house you'll probably see the resurrection of frequent postings over on my cooking blog, The Redneck Gourmet.

Until next time...

Regards Y'all

.

Still Beating A Dead Horse

The City Of Brunswick Sanitation Department Sucks...


This morning, being well rested and somewhat settled into our new home here on our little island, I feel like turning my attention back across the Torras Causeway to the mainland, taking a few shots at the government of the City of Brunswick, Georgia in the process.

Don't get me wrong here--I don't dislike the City's government as a whole.

In fact, I think that some parts of it are actually pretty effective. Take my friend Mayor Brian Thompson for instance.

Brian's a real capable, likeable, stand up kind of guy. Further, Brian's willing to stand up and take endless abuse and and allow total strangers to make infinite demands on his time and energy, all for the sum of about $13,000 per year in salary.

How he makes it all work I'll never know.

And, for those of you that are thinking that I'm overstating my relationship with Mayor Thompson, let me say that I've actually been to his house for a party last Christmas, I have his personal cellphone number in my phone, and his wife Heather and I have worked on a number of theatrical & art projects and shows together over the past couple of years beginning long before his election to his present office.

With that and $0.75, I can probably get a cup of coffee at the local Waffle House, but connections are "connections" and I'll take mine where I can get them.

But I digress...

The current problem I have with the City of Brunswick government is with the "Sanitation" Department. That would be the "Departmente de Lempio" for my Spanish speaking readers (if I remember things accurately from my Junior year of High School.)

Any way, when I bought a rental duplex and a couple of vacant lots in the "New Town" section of Brunswick back in 2004, I immediately realized that there was a "little littering" problem in that section of town.

Maybe instead of calling it a "little littering" problem, I should call it a "big littering" problem.

Thinking a bit further, maybe it would be more accurate to say that we have a DUMPING PROBLEM in much of downtown Brunswick, Georgia.

But wait...

The City of By-God Brunswick, Georgia, USA forces everyone that has City water service to also pay for City supplied SANITATION SERVICE...for the ridiculously low price of about $8 per month.

Seems like a good deal to me.

But wait...

IF everyone has government mandated and government supplied "Sanitation Service," why is there litter strewn up and down the street and on every street corner?

Further, why is there wholesale dumping of giant piles of junk curbside, on a continuous basis, on my property and my neighbors' properties over the past 3-1/2 years?

Seriously, if you own property in downtown Brunswick and you don't police it on a monthly if not weekly (or even daily) basis, you will come back to find a giant pile of things like yard debris, sofas and other furniture, children's clothing, and virtually everything else imaginable laying on your grass weeds dirt, curb, and even part of the street.

One time I even had most of an upright piano laying on the edge of the alley behind my duplex.

Right now I have no less that two sofas and another bunch of crap that has clearly been dumped by someone, but not by average citizens that the City of Brunswick has forced to pay for "Sanitation Services." It's not the kind of stuff that people generate from cleaning out their kitchen and bathroom trash cans.

Could people be driving over from Alabama or up from Florida to dispose of their refuse?

Possibly, but probably not.

What I have laying around on my property is stuff abandonded by tenants which have been evicted from or otherwise move out of local rental properties and that is either dumped by the landlord else hauled and illegally disposed of by the landlord's representative(s.)

What we have going on is not people emptying their cans full of paper napkins, chicken bones and watermellon rines onto my curb (although I have had a bunch of bananas and most of a watermellon dumped out there once).

What we have going on is people that should know better using the streets and alleys of Brunswick as a landfill, thereby avoiding paying the local dump fees or tipping fees for bulk items that won't fit in their curbside city supplied trashcan.

I'd like to ask the "Officials" of the City of By-God Brunswick, Georgia, USA one question:

"Why not employ the current logic and just add a couple hundred dollars of dump fees onto everybodies' water bill or property tax bill and see if any better results can be attained--because your current program obviously isn't working?"

I'm waiting for an answer...

[que the sounds of crickets chirping here...]

Any way, you'd probably like to know what the "Sanitation Department" of the City of By-God Brunswick, Georgia actually does have to say about all of these goings on?

Well, first of all, in mid-May they said that they would come out to look at my current pile of trash and quote me a fee to remove it. This after they've already cleaned up similar piles of junk and debris in the past for free and often without me having to pound my fist or even lift a finger to dial the telephone.

After several missed appointments and games of playing "phone tag", now that I'm interested in developing and selling the property, the city has started taking a coy, hardball attitude with me for some unknown reason.

I've already paid a private contractor $300 to have the vacant land cleaned up and the litter removed, but I refuse to pay the additional $700 that my contractor wants to charge me to remove TWO DUMP TRUCK LOADS of crap that is not mine and was not placed on my property with my consent.

Finally in late May I got the head of the "Sanitation Department" to meet me on the property and agree to remove the debris at no cost...BUT, I'd have to wait until the new fiscal year began in June so they could put in a work order and have the money in the City's budget.

Looking at the calendar, it's now August 10th and tomorrow I expect to go over and yet again view the lovely festering, 30' x 20' x 5' high pile of crap that continues to grow as I write (it was still there two Monday's ago.)

I've called the "sanitation department" office several times a day several days each week for the past three weeks and my voicemail messages have as yet gone unanswered. Apparently the "sanitation department" can't afford a secretary or administrative assistant either.

Regardless of the final outcome, I'd like to point out that this is a perfect example of government ineffectiveness and ineptitude. Further, in this case it is also an example of the government attempting to supply a necessary and increasingly expensive service at an artificially low price.

Ten years ago in Atlanta I paid over $30 a month for trash service that didn't include the removal of yard debris, and today the City of Brunswick is trying to provide mandatory trash service for $8.00 per month.

In this case, apparently the low cost of the "sanitation service" is intended to balm the wounds of those that feel put upon by the mandate that the "sanitation service fee" be included in the water bill.

Glynn County does a little better with their $200+ fee included in the annual tax bill, but again the level of customer service verges on abysmal because the real cost of the service is apparently greater than the fee being charged.

The difference is that the county passes the costs directly to the property owner, where the City charges the end user--the tenant or resident--directly. (Too bad that the county politicians don't realize that the end users still end up paying their fee because the landlord just raises the rent to offset the increase in the tax bill anyway.)

What both the City of By-God Brunswick, Georgia and the government of Glynn County officials don't realize is that by meddling in the free market--by forcing everyone to buy "sanitation services" from the government or a government anointed contractor, they are actually preventing the free market and associated competition from competently providing a needed service at a fair cost.

Notice that I didn't say low cost or cheep cost?

That's because everything can't be cheep, other than the quality of the service that you get when you attempt to get something for nothing.

Don't Blame Me

I Didn't Write This...I Just Pointed It Out...


Turn up the volume on your speakers, click on the big arrow button in the middle of the screen, and prepare to be entertained or pissed off, depending on which side of the political spectrum you and your brain reside on.




Seems like a good representation to me, and the only ones I saw missing in the montage was Michael Moore and possibly Ward Churchill.

Heh...


.

All Our Crap Is In One Pile Now

Will Someone Please Help Me Unpack It?


This morning I was relieved to find that I didn't need my arms to fly up over my head to don a bandanna and shirt in anticipation of spending five or six hours outside running back and forth in the near 100 degree heat loading things like plants, lamps and mirrors into the Suburban.

I told Pat that if she bought one single other plant and mounted it in a 30 pound ceramic pot I was moving to a Monastery and taking some sort of oath or something. Based on a quick count that I just did, we have no less than FORTY plants here residing in artificial containers full of dirt and water.

I only claim the two sweet potato plants and the single jalapeno pepper plant our neighbor gave us while we were moving. Wasn't that nice, instead of moving the plant with her stuff, she gave it to me to move with my stuff.

Any new plants around here will be installed in the dirt outside, attached to the ground, and will most likely be left here when we move again in thirty or forty years.

I have the kitchen unpacked and pretty well organized, and the great room is in functioning order, but both bedrooms and both offices are still a nightmare of open boxes and misplaced items including one door that has to be moved through the rubble and remounted on its hinges after making way for a huge two piece office desk that someone else gave us during the move.

I think that when people find out that you have a truck showing up at your house on a given day they do an inventory and attempt to avoid a trip to the dump or otherwise discard things that their spouse has that they don't want to have to fool with the next time they have to move themselves.

I swear that I could have doubled our furniture inventory if we had accepted all of the offers our friends and sometime total strangers made when we announced that we were transplanting ourselves four miles south on our little island.

Now I have to shift gears and get back into the engineering consulting business and the construction business and while I'm at it build a giant pyramid for a local marching band to play music around in the middle of a football field at halftime.

See y'all later...

Speed Bumps & Garbage Collection

Symptoms Of Government Ineptitude


OK People, last time I checked, we as taxpayers and private citizens have allowed our government to spend trillions if not zillions of dollars improving our so called "infrastructure."

Even if you didn't know the details at the time, and in spite of things like Minnesota's recent bridge collapse, I'm pretty sure that the average citizen would offhand say that the expense has been worth it overall, because of the improvements in our collective "quality of life."

Well...I actually don't agree, and I am here to tell you that I believe that there are numerous devils in the details of our governments' efforts, and I'm getting a little tired of bumping my head into Satin and his assistant demon's horns and pitchforks over the past few weeks.

Think of it like this...

A hundred years ago, in the rural south, you probably rode a horse down a path to get from your house to town. If you were lucky, you had a dirt road that would support the passage of a horse or mule drawn wagon or carriage somewhere between you and town.

Likewise, if you were a damn Yankee were a city slicker lived in NY city you might drive your 10 HP Model T Ford along brick or cobble stone streets from your carriage house to your office.

Fast forward to today, and probably 98% of the US population has to go out of their way to even find a dirt road to drive on (unless it is their own driveway), because virtually every road in America is paved courtesy of the local, state, or Federal Government.

Potholes are, of course optional, and by the way, we still have a number of unpaved dirt roads down in the middle of the village here on St. Simons Island.

Once the automobile arrived on the scene in a major way, things like driver's licenses and speed limits also became a government provided necessity.

You name it, someone is always willing to ask for it and some bureaucrat will stick his hand in your pocket to pay for it, and down here on a couple of streets near our new house is another government roadway improvement that I've rarely had to worry about in the past...

The "SPEED BUMP."

Yeah...you heard me correctly...

"sPeEd BuMpS"

I say that "sPeEd BuMpS" prove that the government is, in many cases, totally feckless and useless.

What total government induced, intrusive, annoying, bullshit sPeEd BuMpS are, in my Redneck Libertarian opinion.

Here's how I see things when it comes to sPeEd BuMpS.

We hired the government to build and improve our roads in the first place, right?

We got tired of riding down dusty, rutted, or muddy dirt roads at ten miles per hour; breaking things off of our car and breaking our spines and butts in the bumpy process.

So along came the government, confiscated some tax money from me and you, and paved nice smooth concrete and asphalt roads with things like curbs, storm drains, stop signs, and traffic lights.

Once things got too smooth and car engines got more powerful, along came speed limits and speed limit signs. The theory was that you were supposed to go fast out in the country and on limited access roads, and slow down on city streets and in neighborhoods like mine.

To ensure that the speed limits and other traffic laws were complied with, next the government collected yet more tax money from everyone and set up police departments with police cars and radar and laser guns to catch the people that chose to ignore the rules and to protect the average citizens while they enjoyed their nice smooth asphalt and concrete paved roads and highways.

But wait, the police can't or won't enforce the existing laws, and as a result a few ignorant inconsiderate assholes thoughtless citizens still chose to ignore the speed limit, so guess what the government does in response?

Instead of doing the job they are already taxing their citizens for--enforcing the speed limits--the government takes even more tax money and "un-improves" the nice smooth asphalt roads that they already stole tax money to make smooth in the first place.

They go out and put in "sPeEd BuMpS."

sPeEd BuMpS.

This is a totally flawed concept--treating the law abiding citizens equal with the criminals.

With the installation of sPeEd BuMpS, every single driver has to suffer the punishment that should be meted out only to those drivers that elect to violate the speed limit, just like making crappy government mandated Trash service part of the Property Tax bill punishes everyone, while not stopping the original crime.

Yes, Pat and I have to drive across at least three sPeEd BuMpS each and every time we leave our house and again each and every time we come home, yet we have already seen little punk assed morons in pickup trucks and grown men in Buicks come flying down the road doing 40 MPH in a 25 MPH zone, racing from sPeEd BuMp to sPeEd BuMp, so what has the whole process accomplished?

Actually, the installation of the sPeEd BuMpS was originally motivated to not only reduce speeds on the streets, but also as a deterrent to people that elected to cut through our neighborhood in order to avoid a major nearby intersection and associated traffic light.

Only the government would impose heavy handed measure after measure after measure onto innocent bystanders in the "public interest" and in the name of "progress."

In the mean time, I wonder if I can get the government to buy me some new filling for my teeth and new shocks and springs from my car and truck?

Probably not...

But ain't Government Great?

One Man's Trash

Another Man's Treasure...


I've really had it right up to here (pointing to the top of my ever greying, ever balding head) with trash services here in Glynn County and the City of Brunswick.

In a little over three days I already have trash overflowing out of my ears and coming out of my butt here at the new house on our little island (located in unincorporated Glynn County), and I also have a virtual landfill on the unpaved ally side of my property over in Brunswick that the head of the Brunswick Sanitation Department has been promising to remove since May.

The problem seems to revolve around government mandated monopolies--in one case one hired by Glynn County, and the second actually operated by the City of Brunswick.

Since Glynn County is the entity most recently to cause their property tax owners to fall victim to this scam bullshit malfeasance, I'll talk about them first.

It seems that a few years ago the County Commissioners noticed there is a bit of a problem with dumping of household garbage and other refuse on private property and along the highways and other "public" property.

Rather than enforcing the existing littering and dumping laws on the members of the "public" which were guilty of causing the problem, the elected County assholes morons Commissioners decided to pass the responsibility and associated costs of their purported solution on to the private property owners of Glynn County.

They did this by hiring a private company to do the trash collection at homes and businesses which did not have dumpsters or other means of refuse disposal already in place, in the process adding the cost of the service to the land/property owner's annual property tax bill. (Our condo had dumpsters and it's own service personnel on site so we were exempt from this mandate.)

No if's, and's, or but's, about it, now if you own a house in Glynn County you will have government mandated trash service...even if your house is unoccupied, burns down, or due to it's condition, is otherwise un-occupyable.

Of course there was a huge public outcry and lots of gnashing of teeth, but in the end the government won out and, as a delayed result, today I had my first experience with Southland Waste Systems and their rocket scientist employees.

Yesterday I found from out my neighbor that Monday was "trash day" here on my street and further, that I had to make sure that my company/county supplied trashcan was not over filled--the lid had to close.

No problem...so far so good...

I had a trashcan sitting beside my garage when the moving truck drove up on Saturday, and we'd produced lots of trash since then so I seemed set to take advantage of the service that our landlord was paying for.

Only problem was, what my well intended neighbor did not tell me was that my "curbside" service was not actually at our house's "curbside."

Imagine that?

Oh yeah..the GOVERNMENT is involved, and that means that the meanings of ordinary words are never what you would normally expect them to be.

Evidently, by "curbside" service here in Glynn County, they mean some "curbside" other than MY curbside--a curbside that their giant truck can drive up to and pick up the can with some kind of manipulator arm to do the dumping with.

Any way, a little after noon today I noticed that the truck driver and his assistant busied themselves spending at least five minutes moving back and forth outside my driveway entrance avoiding my trashcan, even having the extra man actually exit the air conditioned cab of the truck to pick up and empty a few recycling containers, but when the dust settled and Pat came home from shopping we found that OUR TRASHCAN WAS STILL FULL.

No note, no gentle reminder, no nothing, just a can full of trash from moving and another week to wait for the next scheduled trash service.

Here's what I'm going to do.

First I'm calling in to the local Radio talk show at 7 AM tomorrow morning to tell my story.

Next I'm calling my county commissioner.

Of course all I expect to hear is lame excuses and promises to do better in the future, but in the end I will probably be told that it is my fault for not asking my landlord how far down the block and on which side of the street to place my trashcan.

I vaguely remember hearing talk show callers in the past complaining about having to have their trashcans 12 feet (or some other random number) from mailboxes, telephone poles, other trash cans) but it didn't occur to me until the damage was done.

What total bullshit.

I live on a cul-de-sac with a one way 12 foot wide strip of asphalt (which badly needs repaving by the aforementioned "county officials") that wraps in and out around giant Live Oak Trees and islands of vegetation.

My house apparently sits in a position where a $7 per hour employee would have to actually exit the air conditioned cab of the 500' long garbage truck in order to retrieve my trash can sitting adjacent to the road anywhere on the frontage.

God forbid that Southland Waste Systems should employ some smaller trucks or hire people to grab hold of an errant but innocently misplaced trashcan every now and then on some of the older narrow inner island streets here on St. Simons.

As is typical with any solution provided by the government, it's ONE SIZE FITS ALL, DAMMIT.

And is also typical with government, the customer is NEVER RIGHT.

Do I have a second on that motion?

All in favor?

Those Opposed?

The yeas have it...

(Next on my agenda...the City of Brunswick's abysmal "Insanitation Sanitation" Department.)

Falling Down & Screwing Up

Best Laid Plans Of Mouse & Man...


Well, we're HERE.

The only problem is, bits and pieces of our stuff is...

STILL over THERE.

By "over THERE", I mean over at the Condo.

Dang it...

We only managed to make two of the five or six final trips in my Suburban yesterday, with yesterday's second excursion featuring a final visit to the swimming pool.

Pat and Missy the Turbo Pup hung out poolside because Pat's back is bothering her, and I spun around in circles moving most of the plants out onto the front patio and loading another load of boxes and the more fragile stuff on board the SUV.

The ambient temperature was about 94 degrees F, with a heat index over 104 degrees F by 6 PM. We came home, unloaded most of our booty, and I collapsed on the sofa.

Then I got back up and, after making a late pizza dinner featuring a funky "eyeballed " crust (the measuring cups got left over at the Condo), I was asleep in the bed by 10 PM.

I woke up at midnight with a huge headache and with every muscle in my body cramping--at least that's the way it felt like.

It was my own fault. I sorta forgot to drink much Gatorade yesterday, and the water and white wine I consumed poolside just didn't get it when it came to replacing the minerals lost while sweating out a couple of gallons of my insides in the loading and moving process.

After drinking a few quarts of Gatorade and jumping around the living room walking like a three legged dog for an hour or so, I finally managed to settle down about four AM and get some more sleep. Come 8 AM I was still groggy and weak and, as a result, today has been a bust when it comes to picking up and moving more stuff from point A to point B.

As a further deterrent, the Weather Channel says that today it's a frigid NINETY SEVEN DEGREES FAHRENHEIT outside, with a heat index near 110, so paying our old landlord another $34 is an acceptable penance for my middle aged slovenly conditioning.

Expert procrastination has ensued all day, using my faint heart and wobbling legs as a mental excuse. I ended up sleeping until noon, then I did manage to open and unpack a few boxes standing inside in AC comfort while Pat made a rare solo jaunt over to Brunswick to pick up some necessities.

Just now when it came time to sneak back over to the condo we realized that Georgia Power had probably turned off the electricity because we were supposed to move last Wednesday rather than Saturday.

Sure enough, after placing a phone call and enduring the inevitable English/Spanish menu questions, we learned the juice was indeed off as of about noon today, but they would be happy to turn it back on for a $22 fee.

Sure...go ahead...it's only MONEY.

So I'm going to lounge around breaking down empty boxes, pack plastic bags full of foam peanuts, and cram bubble wrap squares back into the original boxes and possibly attempt to stash the whole moving mishmash somewhere up into the attic over the garage.

Then I'm going to write myself an industrial strength rant about the stupidity of the County GOVERNMENT forcing its home owning citizens and landlords to accept paying for trash services in their property tax bill.

No competition equals crappy service, no matter what the stupid "Bureaucrats" and popularly elected "gummunt officials" tell you...

Boxaphobia

Pack Me Up & Ship Me To Jamaica...


Well, ninety-five percent of our stuff is sitting here, mostly still in boxes.

Actually maybe ninety-eight percent.

Originally I was just going to move the plants and the framed photos and other flat fragile stuff hanging on the walls, but we managed to run out of room on the truck yesterday, so I inherited having to move anything left over that would fit into the Suburban.

That included Pat's desk, a bunch of chairs and patio stuff, and a bunch of "space storage" bags full of sheets and blankets...crap we'll probably never use again but every woman loves to hold onto "just in case."

So any way, we anticipate making five or six more round trips today, plus having to clean up the place, then we can focus our attention on opening all the boxes and surprising ourselves with what isn't broken and what wasn't labeled, weighs 100 pounds, and is sitting in the wrong room of the house.

I'd really like to design and build us a house to live in down here and get out of this paying rent business, but then again--when the Weather Nerds over at the Weather Channel start freaking out and NOAA puts a big Hurricane symbol on the map heading toward Northeast Florida and Southeast Georgia I'm happy that I only own the contents of the building I'm sleeping in.

Speaking of Hurricanes, the Federal Flood Insurance Program (something that I've bitched about as being taxpayer subsidised insurance for wealthy people) threw us a curve ball last week and is making us endure yet another 30 day waiting period before our coverage goes into effect.

Three months premium for one month of coverage...the government definitely put the screws to us on this one if something wet and windy comes roaring ashore here before September 1st.

Still, if the coverage is available and cheep (about $350 per year), I'm gonna sign up and send in a check.

I guess that you could call it "Just Rewards" for being a hypocrite...