I think that about covers the situation...
Wednesday, January 11, 2006
Hee Hee Heee
Roger over at Curmudgeonly & Skeptical had this gem today and I borrowed stole it:
I think that about covers the situation...
I think that about covers the situation...
Frisbee, Anyone?
Run a Deep Post Pattern...
I love tossing a Frisbee.
There was a time, back in the late 1970’s and early 1980’s, when I couldn’t imagine not having a couple of dozen Frisbees around me.
I used to have a Frisbee in my hand practically 24 hours each day.
Frisbees are amazing appliances and tools, and used properly, you might be able to use a Frisbee to save your life one day.
I think that Harold “Odd Job” Sakata’s
famous flying steel brimmed bowler hat
in the James Bond film Goldfinger was
somehow inspired by a Frisbee.
I love it because you can eat off of a Frisbee.
At least I have, many times.
All you have to do is to wash your Frisbee off, turn it upside down, and use it like a paper plate.
Veal ...anyone?
You can also entertain a dog with your Frisbee--just watch Animal Planet to see so for yourself.
Heck, you can even pick up girls with your Frisbee abilities (as to whether they are actually worthwhile women is still an open question, I might add.)
My friends Rusty, Andy, Tom, Dave, and I could throw a Frisbee up and down the hallway in our college dorm at 2:00 AM and not bother anybody, because we were so accurate with our throws and catches that no one knew we were out there in the hall.
The key to such late night adventures was tossing the Frisbee accurately and catching it every time—with one hand if possible…sorta like my idea of perfect GUN control—“hitting the intended target every damn time.”
My Frisbee friends and I would go out at night and play “Disk Golf” on an impromptu course on the Georgia Tech campus. We each actually carried a couple of Frisbees with us—a “putter”, a “driver,” and a mid-range or back up disk (just in case we landed one on the roof or something.) Little did we know how that sport would spread around the world like it has today.
We also started a dorm based Ultimate Frisbee Team and competed against a team called the ”Spliffs” on an intramural basis, again in a day when the sport (Ultimate Frisbee) was in it’s infancy. I’m not really sure who was better at tossing the Frisbee and who was better at rolling a joint, but we lost to the Spliffs every single time we played against them, and in the end nobody seemed to care about the loss.
Now I hate to admit it, but when my house burned down in 2001 I lost my entire Frisbee collection, and because of my wobbly health since that day I haven’t bothered to buy a single replacement Frisbee.
I’m totally Frisbee-less, and I really hadn’t thought about it until this morning when I started writing this posting.
Back in “the day” I would have at least one 165 gram, probably a standard 150 gram, maybe a 200 gram HDX, and a pile of crappy banged up back-up Frisbees of different sizes and shapes that I had either used and abused myself or found laying around in the world.
Usually, if I had less than a half dozen Frisbees laying around, you'd find me running by the bank to withdraw some money on my way to the store to buy a new one.
A Frisbee, that is...
I’ll be right back.
I love tossing a Frisbee.
There was a time, back in the late 1970’s and early 1980’s, when I couldn’t imagine not having a couple of dozen Frisbees around me.
I used to have a Frisbee in my hand practically 24 hours each day.
Frisbees are amazing appliances and tools, and used properly, you might be able to use a Frisbee to save your life one day.
I think that Harold “Odd Job” Sakata’sfamous flying steel brimmed bowler hat
in the James Bond film Goldfinger was
somehow inspired by a Frisbee.
I love it because you can eat off of a Frisbee.
At least I have, many times.
All you have to do is to wash your Frisbee off, turn it upside down, and use it like a paper plate.
Veal ...anyone?
You can also entertain a dog with your Frisbee--just watch Animal Planet to see so for yourself.
Heck, you can even pick up girls with your Frisbee abilities (as to whether they are actually worthwhile women is still an open question, I might add.)
My friends Rusty, Andy, Tom, Dave, and I could throw a Frisbee up and down the hallway in our college dorm at 2:00 AM and not bother anybody, because we were so accurate with our throws and catches that no one knew we were out there in the hall.
The key to such late night adventures was tossing the Frisbee accurately and catching it every time—with one hand if possible…sorta like my idea of perfect GUN control—“hitting the intended target every damn time.”
My Frisbee friends and I would go out at night and play “Disk Golf” on an impromptu course on the Georgia Tech campus. We each actually carried a couple of Frisbees with us—a “putter”, a “driver,” and a mid-range or back up disk (just in case we landed one on the roof or something.) Little did we know how that sport would spread around the world like it has today.
We also started a dorm based Ultimate Frisbee Team and competed against a team called the ”Spliffs” on an intramural basis, again in a day when the sport (Ultimate Frisbee) was in it’s infancy. I’m not really sure who was better at tossing the Frisbee and who was better at rolling a joint, but we lost to the Spliffs every single time we played against them, and in the end nobody seemed to care about the loss.
Now I hate to admit it, but when my house burned down in 2001 I lost my entire Frisbee collection, and because of my wobbly health since that day I haven’t bothered to buy a single replacement Frisbee.
I’m totally Frisbee-less, and I really hadn’t thought about it until this morning when I started writing this posting.
Back in “the day” I would have at least one 165 gram, probably a standard 150 gram, maybe a 200 gram HDX, and a pile of crappy banged up back-up Frisbees of different sizes and shapes that I had either used and abused myself or found laying around in the world.
Usually, if I had less than a half dozen Frisbees laying around, you'd find me running by the bank to withdraw some money on my way to the store to buy a new one.
A Frisbee, that is...
I’ll be right back.
Oh My Gosh... It's The Chinese Bird Flue
Coming to a Restaurant near YOU--But Why Worry?
I'm not gonna eat any Chinese Chicken.
Simply put, that is my personal solution to the "Bird Flue" problem.
Kissing a Chicken is out of the question, at least intentionally, that is.
VAN, Turkey -- Sumeyya Mamuk considered the chickens in her backyard to be beloved pets. The 8-year-old girl fed them, petted them and took care of them. When they started to get sick and die, she hugged them and tenderly kissed them goodbye.
The next morning, her face and eyes were swollen and she had a high fever. Her father took her to a hospital, and five days later she was confirmed to have the deadly H5N1 strain of bird flu.
"The chickens were sick. One had puffed up and she touched it. We told her not to. She loved chickens a lot," her father, Abdulkerim Mamuk, said of the second youngest of his eight children. "She held them in her arms."
Before I would buy it, I always recommend that you always ask your chicken..."Sprechen ze deutch?"
Also, it's a dead giveaway if your chicken hands you some Fortune Cookies or proceeds to put itself into a small cardboard box with a side of rice and some little packages of soy sauce...
In that event...
Run...
I'm not gonna eat any Chinese Chicken.
Simply put, that is my personal solution to the "Bird Flue" problem.
Kissing a Chicken is out of the question, at least intentionally, that is.
VAN, Turkey -- Sumeyya Mamuk considered the chickens in her backyard to be beloved pets. The 8-year-old girl fed them, petted them and took care of them. When they started to get sick and die, she hugged them and tenderly kissed them goodbye.
The next morning, her face and eyes were swollen and she had a high fever. Her father took her to a hospital, and five days later she was confirmed to have the deadly H5N1 strain of bird flu.
"The chickens were sick. One had puffed up and she touched it. We told her not to. She loved chickens a lot," her father, Abdulkerim Mamuk, said of the second youngest of his eight children. "She held them in her arms."
Before I would buy it, I always recommend that you always ask your chicken..."Sprechen ze deutch?"
Also, it's a dead giveaway if your chicken hands you some Fortune Cookies or proceeds to put itself into a small cardboard box with a side of rice and some little packages of soy sauce...
In that event...
Run...
Senatorial Rectal Cranial Inversion--Updated!!!
This Just In...
Democrat Ted Kennedy was caught at the Senate's confirmation hearings for Judge Alito (again) today with his head up his ass, and while there he was surprised to find Judiciary Committee leader Republican Arlen Spector in there with his own head up his own butt, and some as yet undetermined senatorial body even further burried up in the process with his own head in his own rectal canal.
Sorta like a Senatorial Turducken , only different
Amazing...
Democrat Ted Kennedy was caught at the Senate's confirmation hearings for Judge Alito (again) today with his head up his ass, and while there he was surprised to find Judiciary Committee leader Republican Arlen Spector in there with his own head up his own butt, and some as yet undetermined senatorial body even further burried up in the process with his own head in his own rectal canal.
Sorta like a Senatorial Turducken , only different
Amazing...
Tuesday, January 10, 2006
A Redneck’s Take
On Sharon’s Illness And Impending Death…
I was born in 1959.
Israel, in its present geographic location, was at that time about 12 years old, as I recall.
Since then, I have managed to grow to maturity, get a college education, while at the same time watch a world full of idiots play ping-pong with the Jewish state that was created under the auspices of the United Nations and every other %$#@& tree hugging, liberal/conservative group of “busybodies” that were still suffering post WWII remorse for the German atrocities inflicted on this group of people.
I like the way the Israeli’s fight a war—circa 1967.
I like the way that the Israeli’s take care of terrorists—circa 1972.
I like the way that Israel deals with nuclear threats—Iran circa 1981.
I love to shoot the Israeli Desert Eagle 50 caliber pistol.
I don’t quite know enough about the details of the politics, but dammit if the
illness of the Israeli PM Ariel Sharon doesn’t come at the worst possible time in this so called "peace process."
I think that some serious intervention in the Gaza Strip and a bit of radio activity, delivered by friendly fire, may be the only solution to this area’s problem.
I was born in 1959.
Israel, in its present geographic location, was at that time about 12 years old, as I recall.
Since then, I have managed to grow to maturity, get a college education, while at the same time watch a world full of idiots play ping-pong with the Jewish state that was created under the auspices of the United Nations and every other %$#@& tree hugging, liberal/conservative group of “busybodies” that were still suffering post WWII remorse for the German atrocities inflicted on this group of people.
I like the way the Israeli’s fight a war—circa 1967.
I like the way that the Israeli’s take care of terrorists—circa 1972.
I like the way that Israel deals with nuclear threats—Iran circa 1981.
I love to shoot the Israeli Desert Eagle 50 caliber pistol.
I don’t quite know enough about the details of the politics, but dammit if the
illness of the Israeli PM Ariel Sharon doesn’t come at the worst possible time in this so called "peace process."
I think that some serious intervention in the Gaza Strip and a bit of radio activity, delivered by friendly fire, may be the only solution to this area’s problem.
Chocolate and Zucchini
Who ARE these people?
This lovely young woman writes an excellent cooking Blog that has already earned her a Cookbook publishing deal.
I'm jealous, but it's actually no wonder--look how wonderfully she writes:
"A lot can be learned about your cooking self by considering what you eat when you're on your own. I have friends who are just not hungry when they're alone, who (gasp!) forget to eat, who don't consider it a real meal if there's no dining companion, or who just eat a Kinder Surprise, build the little toy and call it dinner -- and I'm not making this up.
What's most surprising to me is that some of them are great cooks, but somehow they don't find it worth the effort to use their talents if it's just for their own benefit. I say, you should treat yourself as if you were you own guest.
I certainly understand the desire to keep things simple when no one's looking -- and I'm not saying you should prepare multiple courses and whip out votive candles, although it's a nice thought -- but to me, dinner alone shouldn't be expedited as if it were a chore. Instead, I see it as a unique opportunity to eat exactly what I please and how I want to eat it, comfortable in my delicious solitude. And in my world, this often means eating in a bowl, on the couch, while watching Desperate Housewives.
If you are a cook, go check out the Chocolate and Zucchini Website, and if you just like reading Blogs...go there anyway.
I do.
This lovely young woman writes an excellent cooking Blog that has already earned her a Cookbook publishing deal.
I'm jealous, but it's actually no wonder--look how wonderfully she writes:
"A lot can be learned about your cooking self by considering what you eat when you're on your own. I have friends who are just not hungry when they're alone, who (gasp!) forget to eat, who don't consider it a real meal if there's no dining companion, or who just eat a Kinder Surprise, build the little toy and call it dinner -- and I'm not making this up.
What's most surprising to me is that some of them are great cooks, but somehow they don't find it worth the effort to use their talents if it's just for their own benefit. I say, you should treat yourself as if you were you own guest.
I certainly understand the desire to keep things simple when no one's looking -- and I'm not saying you should prepare multiple courses and whip out votive candles, although it's a nice thought -- but to me, dinner alone shouldn't be expedited as if it were a chore. Instead, I see it as a unique opportunity to eat exactly what I please and how I want to eat it, comfortable in my delicious solitude. And in my world, this often means eating in a bowl, on the couch, while watching Desperate Housewives.
If you are a cook, go check out the Chocolate and Zucchini Website, and if you just like reading Blogs...go there anyway.
I do.
Explosive Device Found At San Fran Starbucks
It was in the bathroom
This is crude, but I just have to comment.
Sorry ladies…
FOX News just came on my TV at about 1:45 AM with a breaking news story saying that an “explosive device” was found in the bathroom of a San Francisco area Starbucks coffee shop.
Duuuuuhhhhhhhhh…
What is the big darned story here?
I suggest that on any given day or night of any given week, anyone having come to Starbucks to drink a “double double Espresso” on top of a couple of bowls of Wendy’s chili could be legally considered an explosive device.
Someone call Howard Stern….
This is crude, but I just have to comment.
Sorry ladies…
FOX News just came on my TV at about 1:45 AM with a breaking news story saying that an “explosive device” was found in the bathroom of a San Francisco area Starbucks coffee shop.
Duuuuuhhhhhhhhh…
What is the big darned story here?
I suggest that on any given day or night of any given week, anyone having come to Starbucks to drink a “double double Espresso” on top of a couple of bowls of Wendy’s chili could be legally considered an explosive device.
Someone call Howard Stern….
Under Cover
I Know Nothing…
As I’ve stated before, this year I’m working on improving and expanding my coverage of local political issues. Most of the results of this effort will be published over at my much neglected local political blog that I write incognito.
Unfortunately, I’ve gotten off to a bit of a slow start so far because I’ve been fighting a minor head cold the past few days. We also had guests in town for part of the weekend and that took some of my attention, but tomorrow morning at 5:30 AM I’m kicking off my second secret undercover investigation here in Glynn County.
I’m tempted to say here in this blog what I am up to, but then again, I’m not sure who is reading my writing here and I want to get a little time into the process to see where the story goes before I attach my real identity to the project.
Let’s just say it is a human interest story involving low income citizens, and I’m not shaving right now and I'll be wearing my old work clothes and steel toed boots so that I can fit in with the participants.
Hey buddy, can you spare a dime???
Monday, January 09, 2006
That Global Warming Thing...
She Be A Bitch…
My friend and fellow rocket scientist, Wayne Kirsner, and I love to discuss technical issues that are also political issues. In the course of having our dialogue, we also attempt to solve the world’s problems—at least on paper.
We’ll banter on back and forth for hours at a time over a few weeks via E-mail and on the telephone, then we take a few months off until we see something new in the news that piques our interest, then off we go again—ranting and raving about the stupidity of the politically correct public discourse on things most news “reporters” can never actually understand.
Those of you in the “general public” just have to take your chances on what you believe on any given issue, unless you are very careful with your choice of your source of information.
Seriously, Wayne is a really smart fellow, and he is an intellectual bulldog when it comes to reasoning and logical development of an argument supporting a given issue.
He has a Bachelors degree in Physics and a Masters’ degree in mechanical engineering from the Georgia Institute of Technology. I am just a lowly possessor of a Bachelors degree in Mechanical Engineering Technology myself, but Wayne and I have worked together many times over the past sixteen years and done some great work relating to improving building energy usage and looking at fun things like industrial steam piping problems.
Wayne is also what I consider to be a masochist, because he loves to drive his Lexus SC convertible over to the Starbucks Coffee Shop near Emory University in Atlanta, where he is regularly assaulted by a bunch of LIBERALS.
You know about the relationship between LIBERALS and Starbucks, don’t you?
No?
Well, just for reference, if you will walk into any given Starbucks coffee shop, on any given day, in most any city in the country, you can expect to find a cacophony, a plethora, yes…a virtual cornucopia of bed wetting, nail biting, thumb sucking, bleeding heart LIBERALS all sitting around sipping on Columbian Nario Supreme, half soy, half moo, double doubles (possibly iced.)
P-L-U-E-E-S-E-E-E-E-E-E-E-E-E
Why should ordering coffee be so difficult? Why should one require a college degree to understand the intricacies of buying a cup of coffee?
I’m not impressed.
Any way, when Wayne and I would walk into Starbucks together when I still resided in the Atlanta metro area, we knew that if we wanted to start an argument, all we had to do is start talking about….(hang on…)
GLOBAL WARMING.
Total strangers would stagger over with their eyes rolled back in their heads, interrupt our conversation (taking our bait in the process,) and issue spit laden slogans about how the world was ending and it was the Capitalists and the Republicans fault and they would end the conversation with threats of running over us with their Italian Moped or bicycle when we attempted to exit the parking lot.
Don’t get me wrong here, we’re talking about what I would ordinarily consider to be smart people, but they apparently are just mis-informed.
Horribly mis-informed…courtesy of the United Nations and their beloved Kyoto Treaty.
These people have bought into this GLOBAL WARMING “cult,” and to them it feels good worrying about “Mother Earth,” and “saving the planet” and no amount of rational debate and reasoning will change their mind.
Instead of relying on the NY Times and the Associated press to supply us with our information on Global Warming, Wayne and I happen to have had the opportunity to have dialogues with Dr. Peter Griffith and Dr. Richard Lindzen that do climate research at the Massachussets Institute of Technology.
These guys are on the cutting edge of the field of climate modeling, but they are also considered “outsiders” because of their skepticism of any existing proof of MAN’S DIRECT INFLUENCE ON THE TEMPERATURE OF OUR PLANET.
By default, we have learned that Dr.’s Griffith’s and Lindzen’s opportunities to participate in the ongoing public dialogue and to be included in professional conferences have been limited because of the political correctness of their positions.
Dr. Griffith and Dr. Lindzen say that the earth MIGHT be getting warmer, but that IF it really is, there is no PROOF that humans and our industrialization of the planet is the cause of the warming.
Things like solar cycles and El Nino and La Nina and untold yet to be discovered processes influence our weather and sitting around wetting your pants about GLOBAL WARMING, in my considered Redneck opinion, is only going to yield one thing…
a bad case of Diaper Rash.
If global warming is such a threat, why is New Delhi, India having record cold this week?
Just wondering…
My friend and fellow rocket scientist, Wayne Kirsner, and I love to discuss technical issues that are also political issues. In the course of having our dialogue, we also attempt to solve the world’s problems—at least on paper.
We’ll banter on back and forth for hours at a time over a few weeks via E-mail and on the telephone, then we take a few months off until we see something new in the news that piques our interest, then off we go again—ranting and raving about the stupidity of the politically correct public discourse on things most news “reporters” can never actually understand.
Those of you in the “general public” just have to take your chances on what you believe on any given issue, unless you are very careful with your choice of your source of information.
Seriously, Wayne is a really smart fellow, and he is an intellectual bulldog when it comes to reasoning and logical development of an argument supporting a given issue.
He has a Bachelors degree in Physics and a Masters’ degree in mechanical engineering from the Georgia Institute of Technology. I am just a lowly possessor of a Bachelors degree in Mechanical Engineering Technology myself, but Wayne and I have worked together many times over the past sixteen years and done some great work relating to improving building energy usage and looking at fun things like industrial steam piping problems.
Wayne is also what I consider to be a masochist, because he loves to drive his Lexus SC convertible over to the Starbucks Coffee Shop near Emory University in Atlanta, where he is regularly assaulted by a bunch of LIBERALS.
You know about the relationship between LIBERALS and Starbucks, don’t you?
No?
Well, just for reference, if you will walk into any given Starbucks coffee shop, on any given day, in most any city in the country, you can expect to find a cacophony, a plethora, yes…a virtual cornucopia of bed wetting, nail biting, thumb sucking, bleeding heart LIBERALS all sitting around sipping on Columbian Nario Supreme, half soy, half moo, double doubles (possibly iced.)
P-L-U-E-E-S-E-E-E-E-E-E-E-E-E
Why should ordering coffee be so difficult? Why should one require a college degree to understand the intricacies of buying a cup of coffee?
I’m not impressed.
Any way, when Wayne and I would walk into Starbucks together when I still resided in the Atlanta metro area, we knew that if we wanted to start an argument, all we had to do is start talking about….(hang on…)
GLOBAL WARMING.
Total strangers would stagger over with their eyes rolled back in their heads, interrupt our conversation (taking our bait in the process,) and issue spit laden slogans about how the world was ending and it was the Capitalists and the Republicans fault and they would end the conversation with threats of running over us with their Italian Moped or bicycle when we attempted to exit the parking lot.
Don’t get me wrong here, we’re talking about what I would ordinarily consider to be smart people, but they apparently are just mis-informed.
Horribly mis-informed…courtesy of the United Nations and their beloved Kyoto Treaty.
These people have bought into this GLOBAL WARMING “cult,” and to them it feels good worrying about “Mother Earth,” and “saving the planet” and no amount of rational debate and reasoning will change their mind.
Instead of relying on the NY Times and the Associated press to supply us with our information on Global Warming, Wayne and I happen to have had the opportunity to have dialogues with Dr. Peter Griffith and Dr. Richard Lindzen that do climate research at the Massachussets Institute of Technology.
These guys are on the cutting edge of the field of climate modeling, but they are also considered “outsiders” because of their skepticism of any existing proof of MAN’S DIRECT INFLUENCE ON THE TEMPERATURE OF OUR PLANET.
By default, we have learned that Dr.’s Griffith’s and Lindzen’s opportunities to participate in the ongoing public dialogue and to be included in professional conferences have been limited because of the political correctness of their positions.
Dr. Griffith and Dr. Lindzen say that the earth MIGHT be getting warmer, but that IF it really is, there is no PROOF that humans and our industrialization of the planet is the cause of the warming.
Things like solar cycles and El Nino and La Nina and untold yet to be discovered processes influence our weather and sitting around wetting your pants about GLOBAL WARMING, in my considered Redneck opinion, is only going to yield one thing…
a bad case of Diaper Rash.
If global warming is such a threat, why is New Delhi, India having record cold this week?
Just wondering…
Sunday, January 08, 2006
True Homelessness
It’s Out There, But It’s Not Here…
I was cruising around the WWW tonight trying to catch up on the news and the goings on in the world after our guests left town today.
Since I’m particularly cranky these days, and since we just got through entertaining three teenaged girls overnight, this story caught my eye and I realized that I haven’t opined on the issue of homeless children in a while.
Among other things, they say:
SAO PAULO, Brazil--More than 1,000 children have been living underneath highway overpasses, inside tunnels and on city squares in South America's biggest city, according to a study reported by Brazilian media Saturday.
The study, conducted by Sao Paulo city officials, showed that about 1,030 children are homeless in Sao Paulo, a city of more than 10 million people, the Estado de S. Paulo newspaper said.
It said another 3,000 who are not homeless work on the streets, selling candy or begging to help their families.
I feel like spewing some venom on this subject, so please return your tray table and seatback to the upright and locked position while I tell you how I feel.
FIRST of all, in this country, there is absolutely no reason that there should be any “homeless” children.
None at all.
Zero.
Zilch.
If there is a child out there inside the borders of the 50 states of the good old USA that can be considered “legally” “homeless,” there is also one or more corresponding adults that should be in jail as a result and there is an existing taxpayer funded government program that would and should be responsible for housing, clothing, and feeding said child in a fashion worthy of a king by most international (read that United Nations) standards.
In fact, our imperial Federal Government of the United By God States of America and by example, our individual state governments, impose higher standards on how we treat our pet goldfish, birds, dogs, and felines than most foreign countries impose on young humans under the age of 18.
That said, all you have to do is go to these same foreign countries to see true homelessness and the horror it inflicts on children.
If you've been around this blog before you would know that I served some time back in the late 1970’s on a ship stationed in Subic Bay Phillippines.
Being an innocent young man from rural Alabama that had never done and seen a lot of things at that time, I was horrified to find young children roaming alone on the streets of Olongapo City outside the gates of our Navy Base.
The first thing I witnessed after leaving the confines of the base were the girls standing in “bonka boats” in the Olongapo river just outside the guard’s gate. A "bonka boat" was a small dougout canoe with a single outrigger like you see in old movies about the south Pacific.
Yes, these kinds of boats weren't just a figment of Hollywood's imagination.
The young girls, no more than ten or twelve years old, would stand precariously on crates or other supports (in order to make themselves look older and taller) in some kind of cobbled together formal looking dress gown and utter some variation of the phrase:
“hey Joe, throw me a Peso…I show you my tits…”
Accompanying these young girls would be a young boy whose job it was to either catch the peso if it was thrown directly into the boat, else jump into the feces and garbage stained water to capture the money.
I hate to say that our men in uniform enjoyed making the kids jump into that horrible, nasty water to retrieve a coin that at the time was worth somewhere between ten and twenty cents.
Then once you were across the river and into town, you were assaulted with literally hundreds of unescorted children everywhere, selling everything from chewing gum to their own bodies.
I remember walking down the street one evening and feeling someone rubbing the hair on my arm (I’m sorta a hairy dude, except on the top of my head these days.) It was a a little boy that couldn’t have been older than six or eight years old who was selling packs of Wrigleys Chewing gum.
I bought a pack.
What I realized was that the Filipino people treated their children like profit centers…like employees or lawnmowers. Once you were able to walk and talk and wipe your own butt, you also had to go out and earn your share of your own living, and by default your family’s living…
IF you actually had a family.
Many of these children were the products of the transactions between the American military and Filipino prostitutes and just like the children of American solders in Vietnam, they were at best second class citizens. Many of these kids aparently had no family that claimed them, and God knows what abuses they endured as a result.
Where did they sleep?
What did they eat?
The Marcos government, possessor of an infinite supply of women's shoes, certainly didn't step in to ensure their safety.
Did you know that the Phillippines (not England) has the second largest English speaking population in the ENTIRE world?
No?
Well then...I just taught you something in my ramblings...
Here in Georgia, DFACS (the Department of Family and Childrens Services) is one of the biggest abusers of children because of their ineptitude in managing children's affairs, and if I were a child today I think that I would almost choose homelessness over being under the supervision of the so called
GOVERNMENT OFFICIALS...
Can't live with them...
And some can't live without them...
I was cruising around the WWW tonight trying to catch up on the news and the goings on in the world after our guests left town today.
Since I’m particularly cranky these days, and since we just got through entertaining three teenaged girls overnight, this story caught my eye and I realized that I haven’t opined on the issue of homeless children in a while.
Among other things, they say:
SAO PAULO, Brazil--More than 1,000 children have been living underneath highway overpasses, inside tunnels and on city squares in South America's biggest city, according to a study reported by Brazilian media Saturday.
The study, conducted by Sao Paulo city officials, showed that about 1,030 children are homeless in Sao Paulo, a city of more than 10 million people, the Estado de S. Paulo newspaper said.
It said another 3,000 who are not homeless work on the streets, selling candy or begging to help their families.
I feel like spewing some venom on this subject, so please return your tray table and seatback to the upright and locked position while I tell you how I feel.
FIRST of all, in this country, there is absolutely no reason that there should be any “homeless” children.
None at all.
Zero.
Zilch.
If there is a child out there inside the borders of the 50 states of the good old USA that can be considered “legally” “homeless,” there is also one or more corresponding adults that should be in jail as a result and there is an existing taxpayer funded government program that would and should be responsible for housing, clothing, and feeding said child in a fashion worthy of a king by most international (read that United Nations) standards.
In fact, our imperial Federal Government of the United By God States of America and by example, our individual state governments, impose higher standards on how we treat our pet goldfish, birds, dogs, and felines than most foreign countries impose on young humans under the age of 18.
That said, all you have to do is go to these same foreign countries to see true homelessness and the horror it inflicts on children.
If you've been around this blog before you would know that I served some time back in the late 1970’s on a ship stationed in Subic Bay Phillippines.
Being an innocent young man from rural Alabama that had never done and seen a lot of things at that time, I was horrified to find young children roaming alone on the streets of Olongapo City outside the gates of our Navy Base.
The first thing I witnessed after leaving the confines of the base were the girls standing in “bonka boats” in the Olongapo river just outside the guard’s gate. A "bonka boat" was a small dougout canoe with a single outrigger like you see in old movies about the south Pacific.
Yes, these kinds of boats weren't just a figment of Hollywood's imagination.
The young girls, no more than ten or twelve years old, would stand precariously on crates or other supports (in order to make themselves look older and taller) in some kind of cobbled together formal looking dress gown and utter some variation of the phrase:
“hey Joe, throw me a Peso…I show you my tits…”
Accompanying these young girls would be a young boy whose job it was to either catch the peso if it was thrown directly into the boat, else jump into the feces and garbage stained water to capture the money.
I hate to say that our men in uniform enjoyed making the kids jump into that horrible, nasty water to retrieve a coin that at the time was worth somewhere between ten and twenty cents.
Then once you were across the river and into town, you were assaulted with literally hundreds of unescorted children everywhere, selling everything from chewing gum to their own bodies.
I remember walking down the street one evening and feeling someone rubbing the hair on my arm (I’m sorta a hairy dude, except on the top of my head these days.) It was a a little boy that couldn’t have been older than six or eight years old who was selling packs of Wrigleys Chewing gum.
I bought a pack.
What I realized was that the Filipino people treated their children like profit centers…like employees or lawnmowers. Once you were able to walk and talk and wipe your own butt, you also had to go out and earn your share of your own living, and by default your family’s living…
IF you actually had a family.
Many of these children were the products of the transactions between the American military and Filipino prostitutes and just like the children of American solders in Vietnam, they were at best second class citizens. Many of these kids aparently had no family that claimed them, and God knows what abuses they endured as a result.
Where did they sleep?
What did they eat?
The Marcos government, possessor of an infinite supply of women's shoes, certainly didn't step in to ensure their safety.
Did you know that the Phillippines (not England) has the second largest English speaking population in the ENTIRE world?
No?
Well then...I just taught you something in my ramblings...
Here in Georgia, DFACS (the Department of Family and Childrens Services) is one of the biggest abusers of children because of their ineptitude in managing children's affairs, and if I were a child today I think that I would almost choose homelessness over being under the supervision of the so called
GOVERNMENT OFFICIALS...
Can't live with them...
And some can't live without them...
Saturday, January 07, 2006
Beating A Dead Horse
116 Still Dead Today…
I’m sorry ladies and gentlemen, but the media’s fascination with the West Virginia Coal mine disaster that occurred this past week still causes me to twitch and spasm when I accidentally, yet incessantly run across some STUPID ASSED NEWS STORY lamenting the horrible last hours of these desperate men that had no choice but to risk their lives to earn a living because the Bush Administration and the Republicans and Libertarians like me want people to die so that WE don’t have to pay taxes and WE are otherwise just generally insensitive to the obvious suffering of our fellow men, women, and children…
…taking a big breath…(that was supposed to be a run-on sentence)
I have a news headline that I would like to announce:
LIFE (can be) A BITCH—THEN YOU (have the God given right to) DIE.
…inhaling again…
Based on the media’s take on this story, every single day I should write my final farewell to my dear Mother, my girlfriend Pat, and the world in general.
Here is what I would write.
Dear Mom, Pat, Friends, Benefactors, Fiduciaries, et. al.:
“Sorry folks, but today I have, with great consternation, to take my mortal life and spiritual soul into my own hands as I exit my domicile to operate a twenty five hundred pound collection of mechanical parts (all supplied by the low bidder to Ford Motor Company, Inc.—in other words...my automobile) on my way to purchase twenty dollars worth of groceries, including things like pre-processed cheese food products (Velveeta Cheese) and possibly some coagulated, industrially mutilated corn by-product, also know as “chips.”
Since the government, via the FDA, the FDIC, and the USDA have approved the food production process, and since Ralph Nader and the other self proclaimed “consumer busybodies” have declared my twenty five hundred pound collection of mechanical parts (my automobile) to be a safe conveyance,
AND...
IF I DIE BEFORE I RETURN HOME…
Please feel free to call FOX News and CNN, and ABC and CBS and NBC on my behalf and rattle and prattle endlessly on and on about the other so called “disasters” or “human tragedies” because, besides my own mortal fatality, another 115 Americans were probably killed this day in automobile accidents.
And By the Way...I Love you all.
Where is THAT headline--where is THAT situation mentioned in the news--every single day?
Nowhere? Never?
Well...It happens people, we will kill on average 116 people every day in this country in automobile accidients.
Please slow yourself and your conveyance down, turn on your turn signals, and stop being an asshole when you are behind the wheel.
(Those of you that are courteous drivers can ignore my last sentence.)
I’m sorry ladies and gentlemen, but the media’s fascination with the West Virginia Coal mine disaster that occurred this past week still causes me to twitch and spasm when I accidentally, yet incessantly run across some STUPID ASSED NEWS STORY lamenting the horrible last hours of these desperate men that had no choice but to risk their lives to earn a living because the Bush Administration and the Republicans and Libertarians like me want people to die so that WE don’t have to pay taxes and WE are otherwise just generally insensitive to the obvious suffering of our fellow men, women, and children…
…taking a big breath…(that was supposed to be a run-on sentence)
I have a news headline that I would like to announce:
LIFE (can be) A BITCH—THEN YOU (have the God given right to) DIE.
…inhaling again…
Based on the media’s take on this story, every single day I should write my final farewell to my dear Mother, my girlfriend Pat, and the world in general.
Here is what I would write.
Dear Mom, Pat, Friends, Benefactors, Fiduciaries, et. al.:
“Sorry folks, but today I have, with great consternation, to take my mortal life and spiritual soul into my own hands as I exit my domicile to operate a twenty five hundred pound collection of mechanical parts (all supplied by the low bidder to Ford Motor Company, Inc.—in other words...my automobile) on my way to purchase twenty dollars worth of groceries, including things like pre-processed cheese food products (Velveeta Cheese) and possibly some coagulated, industrially mutilated corn by-product, also know as “chips.”
Since the government, via the FDA, the FDIC, and the USDA have approved the food production process, and since Ralph Nader and the other self proclaimed “consumer busybodies” have declared my twenty five hundred pound collection of mechanical parts (my automobile) to be a safe conveyance,
AND...
IF I DIE BEFORE I RETURN HOME…
Please feel free to call FOX News and CNN, and ABC and CBS and NBC on my behalf and rattle and prattle endlessly on and on about the other so called “disasters” or “human tragedies” because, besides my own mortal fatality, another 115 Americans were probably killed this day in automobile accidents.
And By the Way...I Love you all.
Where is THAT headline--where is THAT situation mentioned in the news--every single day?
Nowhere? Never?
Well...It happens people, we will kill on average 116 people every day in this country in automobile accidients.
Please slow yourself and your conveyance down, turn on your turn signals, and stop being an asshole when you are behind the wheel.
(Those of you that are courteous drivers can ignore my last sentence.)
Friday, January 06, 2006
Busy, Busy, Busy
I need to make a list or something
I have a full plate of activities for a change over the next couple of days, so my blogging might suffer a little as a result—but then again, maybe not, because I seem to be particularly agitated by world happenings these days (see my previous posting.)
First I have to finish the design of the set for our next dinner show at the C.A.P.E. Theater—“You’re a Good Man Charley Brown.” I attended a rehearsal last night to get a feel for the play in order to mentally complete the details of my set, and it ain’t gonna be easy.
I have to build a Doghouse for Snoopy, a “kite eating tree,” a school bus, Lucy’s psychiatric booth, Schroeder’s baby grand piano, and still have room for five adults and one teenager on a stage that is only 16’ wide. Even with the addition of two downstage 6’x8’ platforms of varying heights to increase the depth of the stage I think that things are going to be pretty tight.
The Piano and the Doghouse will probably take about 80% of my efforts. I have the piano structure figured out, but the Doghouse is kicking my butt because in spite of what the Peanuts cartoon shows, Snoopy cannot lie and sit and fight the Red Barron while perched precariously on the thin ridge line of a gable roofed doghouse.
Therein lies the problem, making a structure that looks like Snoopy’s doghouse to the audience and at the same time allows a grown woman actor that is playing the part of Snoopy to lie and sit on top. I hope that you’ll be impressed with my solution (once I come up with it.)
I had most of the materials delivered on Wednesday and got everything organized inside, but I have to work around a funeral this afternoon and the regular Sunday services (we use a church fellowship hall for rehearsals) and I’m afraid I’m going to spend as much time sweeping sawdust to clean up after myself as I will actually getting any work done.
On the home front, we are looking forward to the arrival of family tomorrow passing through on their move from Erie, PA to the Orlando area of Florida. I’m actually envious of their new residence location in St. Cloud because I think that the Orlando metro area is a pretty cool place to live.
Of course, like Atlanta did in the 1980’s, the fun down there may be wearing off shortly due to traffic clogs and general congestion that middle aged codgers like me tend to spend time and energy avoiding. Oh well, it will be fun to have three of Pat’s nine grandkids so close after years of using airline trips and rental cars to visit.
I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but if you want to go to Orlando and walk right into The Hard Rock Cafe or Sea World without standing in a line with 4,329 other tourists, fly or drive yourself into town on the Sunday after Thanksgiving, arriving about 8:00 AM.
Seriously…you can OWN the Orlando Airport, the rental car companies, and you can fire a cannon through the lobby of the resort hotels without hitting anyone anytime after noon on the Sunday after Thanksgiving because everyone’s kids have to be back in school and virtually no one does any business travel between Thanksgiving and New Years.
Actually, I should correct that statement to say that no one does business travel except for myself and the other members of the ASME STS-1 Steel Stack Subcommittee on any given Thanksgiving weekend. The American Society of Mechanical Engineers made me discover the above travel detail back in the mid and late 1990’s when they scheduled our annual meeting in Orlando starting on Monday morning after Thanksgiving. I snuck into town early on those Sunday morning because I was a sociopath and a cheapskate.
I think that most good travel destinations are easily accessible for childless curmudgeons like me whenever the kids go back to school. I spent several years making annual trips to Key West, arriving AFTER the Labor Day weekend. When we got there we found a huge traffic jam coming north on US 1 out of the Keys, and we ended up seeing about five other boats the entire time we were sailing up and down Florida Bay on a 45’ houseboat. The solitary experience was glorious when the mosquitoes weren’t eating us alive.
OK, time to decide between taking a nap or bitching some more about the West Virginia mine disaster and the NY Times and the new Congressional lobbying money scandal and the price of eggs or tea in China.
I decide, and you'll be the first to know... (snore)
I have a full plate of activities for a change over the next couple of days, so my blogging might suffer a little as a result—but then again, maybe not, because I seem to be particularly agitated by world happenings these days (see my previous posting.)
First I have to finish the design of the set for our next dinner show at the C.A.P.E. Theater—“You’re a Good Man Charley Brown.” I attended a rehearsal last night to get a feel for the play in order to mentally complete the details of my set, and it ain’t gonna be easy.
I have to build a Doghouse for Snoopy, a “kite eating tree,” a school bus, Lucy’s psychiatric booth, Schroeder’s baby grand piano, and still have room for five adults and one teenager on a stage that is only 16’ wide. Even with the addition of two downstage 6’x8’ platforms of varying heights to increase the depth of the stage I think that things are going to be pretty tight.
The Piano and the Doghouse will probably take about 80% of my efforts. I have the piano structure figured out, but the Doghouse is kicking my butt because in spite of what the Peanuts cartoon shows, Snoopy cannot lie and sit and fight the Red Barron while perched precariously on the thin ridge line of a gable roofed doghouse.
Therein lies the problem, making a structure that looks like Snoopy’s doghouse to the audience and at the same time allows a grown woman actor that is playing the part of Snoopy to lie and sit on top. I hope that you’ll be impressed with my solution (once I come up with it.)
I had most of the materials delivered on Wednesday and got everything organized inside, but I have to work around a funeral this afternoon and the regular Sunday services (we use a church fellowship hall for rehearsals) and I’m afraid I’m going to spend as much time sweeping sawdust to clean up after myself as I will actually getting any work done.
On the home front, we are looking forward to the arrival of family tomorrow passing through on their move from Erie, PA to the Orlando area of Florida. I’m actually envious of their new residence location in St. Cloud because I think that the Orlando metro area is a pretty cool place to live.
Of course, like Atlanta did in the 1980’s, the fun down there may be wearing off shortly due to traffic clogs and general congestion that middle aged codgers like me tend to spend time and energy avoiding. Oh well, it will be fun to have three of Pat’s nine grandkids so close after years of using airline trips and rental cars to visit.
I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but if you want to go to Orlando and walk right into The Hard Rock Cafe or Sea World without standing in a line with 4,329 other tourists, fly or drive yourself into town on the Sunday after Thanksgiving, arriving about 8:00 AM.
Seriously…you can OWN the Orlando Airport, the rental car companies, and you can fire a cannon through the lobby of the resort hotels without hitting anyone anytime after noon on the Sunday after Thanksgiving because everyone’s kids have to be back in school and virtually no one does any business travel between Thanksgiving and New Years.
Actually, I should correct that statement to say that no one does business travel except for myself and the other members of the ASME STS-1 Steel Stack Subcommittee on any given Thanksgiving weekend. The American Society of Mechanical Engineers made me discover the above travel detail back in the mid and late 1990’s when they scheduled our annual meeting in Orlando starting on Monday morning after Thanksgiving. I snuck into town early on those Sunday morning because I was a sociopath and a cheapskate.
I think that most good travel destinations are easily accessible for childless curmudgeons like me whenever the kids go back to school. I spent several years making annual trips to Key West, arriving AFTER the Labor Day weekend. When we got there we found a huge traffic jam coming north on US 1 out of the Keys, and we ended up seeing about five other boats the entire time we were sailing up and down Florida Bay on a 45’ houseboat. The solitary experience was glorious when the mosquitoes weren’t eating us alive.
OK, time to decide between taking a nap or bitching some more about the West Virginia mine disaster and the NY Times and the new Congressional lobbying money scandal and the price of eggs or tea in China.
I decide, and you'll be the first to know... (snore)
“Traumatizing The Inside Of The Prime Minister’s Head”
That’s the exact words I just heard on FOX News, regarding the deteriorating condition of Israel’s PM Sharon and the necessity of doing a THIRD brain surgery this morning.
What bothers me is that they said it like “traumatizing the inside of someone’s head” was a bad thing.
I HAVE A QUESTION…
What about the news people “traumatizing the inside” OF MY HEAD?
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
What bothers me is that they said it like “traumatizing the inside of someone’s head” was a bad thing.
I HAVE A QUESTION…
What about the news people “traumatizing the inside” OF MY HEAD?
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
Thursday, January 05, 2006
A Darn Good Cause
I wish I Owned A Sewing Machine...
My blog Idols over at Power Line today pointed out the Sew much comfort website that coordinates the production of "adaptive clothing" that will fit over and around various casts and braces that soldiers wounded in Iraq, Afghanistan, and other fields of combat need once they return home.
Imagine spending weeks if not months in a hospital gown with your butt hanging out for everyone to see?
Imagine having your family and friends attend the ceremony where you receive your Metal of Honor or your Purple Heart sitting in a hospital gown?
We can't have that now, can we?
If you can sew or you know someone that can sew, how about pointing this site out and getting them to help out?
If I owned a sewing machine, I would be loading a bobbin right now...
My blog Idols over at Power Line today pointed out the Sew much comfort website that coordinates the production of "adaptive clothing" that will fit over and around various casts and braces that soldiers wounded in Iraq, Afghanistan, and other fields of combat need once they return home.
Imagine spending weeks if not months in a hospital gown with your butt hanging out for everyone to see?
Imagine having your family and friends attend the ceremony where you receive your Metal of Honor or your Purple Heart sitting in a hospital gown?
We can't have that now, can we?
If you can sew or you know someone that can sew, how about pointing this site out and getting them to help out?
If I owned a sewing machine, I would be loading a bobbin right now...
They’re Making Me Cranky
Saving Ourselves From Ourselves...
Remember that I consider myself—politically—to be a libertarian?
That said, then you probably won’t be surprised that I have more than a little problem with things like our ever expanding traffic laws.
Take seatbelt laws for instance.
Not for laws protecting kids here, I’m talking about laws that require that GROWN ADULTS protect their own lives else pay the government a fine—what I call a FEE FOR STUPIDITY.
I’m against it…I’m against them…seat belt laws…that is.
I think that seat belt laws force us all to continue to be assaulted by stupid, careless people that God would have otherwise eliminated from our population years ago.
For me personally, it is a no brainer that I should want to strap myself tightly inside when I am hurling down a ribbon of concrete or asphalt in a two or three ton wad of steel and plastic, surrounded by wild eyed morons that on a GOOD day can't do their multiplication tables past 7 x7=48. (hah... it really equals 49.)
These same people will get on a Delta jet and sit with their toddler unrestrained in their lap to save the price of an extra airline ticket, and their beloved government officials allow that practice to remain legal.
If these people were Zebras or Thompson’s Gazell, all of the smart lions and Hyenas would have chased them down (or waited for them to trip over their own hooves and fall down) and chewed up their miserable carcases at the first opportunity years ago.
Think of all of the extra oxygen and real estate that could be available here on the planet for the rest of us to use as a result when it was all said and done?
Any howwwww...
Out here on St. Simons we have an ongoing conflict relating to traffic accidents, and some of the solutions that are being proposed are absurd, actually bordering on rediculous.
You see, our island’s population is exploding, on an exponential basis, and all of the Yankees and many of the Rednecks that live here or visit here on vacation are starting to bitch and complain because we have…
Gasp…Traffic.
No, make that TRAFFIC!
On our little island where 20% of the roads are still dirt (what you call “unpaved” in NY City), our population bulges from about 16,000 in the “off season” to somewhere over 30,000 in the summer and on holiday weekends.
The roads that are paved are barely two lanes wide, the maximum speed limit is only 45 MPH, and most of the roads have giant live Oak trees situated two inches off the roadway.
These ancient Oaks bear the scars of the effects of morons driving into them, bouncing off of them, or attempting to slide their 50’ Winnebago past decapitating their mother-in-law in the process.
The only road connecting mainland Georgia with St. Simons is called the Torras Causeway, named for a prominent local engineer that surveyed the route for the road back in the 1930’s. Until the original two lane Torras Causeway was completed back in the dark ages, two Ferry Boats—The Emeline & Hessy—provided the service bringing visitors and supplies to and from the island.
Today the Torras Causeway is four lanes wide, and the speed limit has been raised to150 50 MPH. This approximately 5 mile long causeway does not have a center divider, but rather only has a narrow smooth concrete median and THEREIN LIES THE PROBLEM.
In the past 90 days there have been three head on collisions that completely closed down the Torras Causeway in both directions for several hours during the morning rush hour. Teachers were late for class, most of our legal and illegal Mexican construction workers were late to their job sites, and several city councilmen were tardy for important functions like pedicures and TV interviews.
So now our local rocket scientists, working in conjunction with state and Federal officials, have decided to invent a solution to our traffic problem on the Torras Causeway.
Are you ready?
Do you want to know their proposed solution to help improve driver safety on a road where the average driver exceeds the speed limit by 20 MPH and TWO of the three recent accidents were caused by illegal Mexican immigrants operating a company vehicle without a valid Georgia drivers license?
(May I have a drum roll here please?)
A BAN ON CELL PHONE USAGE.
That’s right, ladies and gentlemen, if people will just stop talking on their cell phones while traversing the marsh on their way to and from St. Simons island, the motoring public of Georgia can rest better at home each evening knowing that their public officials are earning their pay.
Here's what they say:
Motorists crossing the F.J. Torras Causeway between St. Simons Island and the mainland could soon face new restrictions designed to improve traffic safety.
A group of city and county officials will meet Tuesday with Georgia Department of Transportation staff members in Atlanta and propose such measures as a prohibition on cell phone use and installation of rumble strips and video cameras to monitor traffic.
"This has been needed a long time," said David Carswell, a Brunswick police lieutenant who helped put together a plan of improvements.
He said the plan, which will be presented to the county commissioners at a regular commission meeting Thursday, would greatly reduce the number of accidents on the causeway. Last year there were 72.
County Commissioner Uli Keller said the restriction of cell phone use on the causeway would help drivers pay attention to the road.
"A majority of inattentive driving is due to cell phones," he said. "They're probably concentrating on the conversation more than the traffic."
Bull f**king Shit. (sorry Mom and Pat, but no other words adequately cover this situation…)
FIRST of all, if the Glynn county police department started busting ass, 24/7, enforcing the speed limit on the Torras Causeway, 99% of the problems would be eliminated. As I’ve said before, I used to be a wild eyed speeding moron with TWO radar detectors and a cinder block foot on my car’s throttle, but I’ve put that part of my motoring experience behind me.
Today I drive like my dad did in his day…speed limit...
cruise control...
no problem.
I spend my time here on St. Simons playing a game I call “Train.”
For my part, I’m the train's engine in my car, driving along EXACTLY at the speed limit, and ALL of the other idiots on the road behind me are train cars and the last one speeding along that comes roaring up on my ass gets to be “the Caboose.”
I have a great time because by thinking of this game I avoid bursting a blood vessel shouting at the asshole that is driving so close to my bumper that I can't see his/her grill and headlights.
Life might suck because of drivers like me for some people, but I didn’t leave the insanity of Atlanta, Georgia after 27 years of losing my mind in commuter traffic to come down here to the Georgia coast and be in a hurry.
I’M NOT IN A HURRY. You got that?
I...
AM...
NOT...
IN A....
HURRY...
This damn island is only 11 miles long and 4 miles wide, and by my calculations if I drive 20 miles an hour over the speed limit I can get home 15 seconds faster than if I obey the speed limit.
It's not worth it.
It’s a no brainer for me here people.
WE DO NOT NEED YET ANOTHER LAW TO SOLVE THIS PROBLEM.
DAMN THE GOVERNMENT, and Uli Keller is my County Commissioner and he will be hearing from me (again) this week.
Now what is that E-mail address???
Remember that I consider myself—politically—to be a libertarian?
That said, then you probably won’t be surprised that I have more than a little problem with things like our ever expanding traffic laws.
Take seatbelt laws for instance.
Not for laws protecting kids here, I’m talking about laws that require that GROWN ADULTS protect their own lives else pay the government a fine—what I call a FEE FOR STUPIDITY.
I’m against it…I’m against them…seat belt laws…that is.
I think that seat belt laws force us all to continue to be assaulted by stupid, careless people that God would have otherwise eliminated from our population years ago.
For me personally, it is a no brainer that I should want to strap myself tightly inside when I am hurling down a ribbon of concrete or asphalt in a two or three ton wad of steel and plastic, surrounded by wild eyed morons that on a GOOD day can't do their multiplication tables past 7 x7=48. (hah... it really equals 49.)
These same people will get on a Delta jet and sit with their toddler unrestrained in their lap to save the price of an extra airline ticket, and their beloved government officials allow that practice to remain legal.
If these people were Zebras or Thompson’s Gazell, all of the smart lions and Hyenas would have chased them down (or waited for them to trip over their own hooves and fall down) and chewed up their miserable carcases at the first opportunity years ago.
Think of all of the extra oxygen and real estate that could be available here on the planet for the rest of us to use as a result when it was all said and done?
Any howwwww...
Out here on St. Simons we have an ongoing conflict relating to traffic accidents, and some of the solutions that are being proposed are absurd, actually bordering on rediculous.
You see, our island’s population is exploding, on an exponential basis, and all of the Yankees and many of the Rednecks that live here or visit here on vacation are starting to bitch and complain because we have…
Gasp…Traffic.
No, make that TRAFFIC!
On our little island where 20% of the roads are still dirt (what you call “unpaved” in NY City), our population bulges from about 16,000 in the “off season” to somewhere over 30,000 in the summer and on holiday weekends.
The roads that are paved are barely two lanes wide, the maximum speed limit is only 45 MPH, and most of the roads have giant live Oak trees situated two inches off the roadway.
These ancient Oaks bear the scars of the effects of morons driving into them, bouncing off of them, or attempting to slide their 50’ Winnebago past decapitating their mother-in-law in the process.
The only road connecting mainland Georgia with St. Simons is called the Torras Causeway, named for a prominent local engineer that surveyed the route for the road back in the 1930’s. Until the original two lane Torras Causeway was completed back in the dark ages, two Ferry Boats—The Emeline & Hessy—provided the service bringing visitors and supplies to and from the island.
Today the Torras Causeway is four lanes wide, and the speed limit has been raised to
In the past 90 days there have been three head on collisions that completely closed down the Torras Causeway in both directions for several hours during the morning rush hour. Teachers were late for class, most of our legal and illegal Mexican construction workers were late to their job sites, and several city councilmen were tardy for important functions like pedicures and TV interviews.
So now our local rocket scientists, working in conjunction with state and Federal officials, have decided to invent a solution to our traffic problem on the Torras Causeway.
Are you ready?
Do you want to know their proposed solution to help improve driver safety on a road where the average driver exceeds the speed limit by 20 MPH and TWO of the three recent accidents were caused by illegal Mexican immigrants operating a company vehicle without a valid Georgia drivers license?
(May I have a drum roll here please?)
A BAN ON CELL PHONE USAGE.
That’s right, ladies and gentlemen, if people will just stop talking on their cell phones while traversing the marsh on their way to and from St. Simons island, the motoring public of Georgia can rest better at home each evening knowing that their public officials are earning their pay.
Here's what they say:
Motorists crossing the F.J. Torras Causeway between St. Simons Island and the mainland could soon face new restrictions designed to improve traffic safety.
A group of city and county officials will meet Tuesday with Georgia Department of Transportation staff members in Atlanta and propose such measures as a prohibition on cell phone use and installation of rumble strips and video cameras to monitor traffic.
"This has been needed a long time," said David Carswell, a Brunswick police lieutenant who helped put together a plan of improvements.
He said the plan, which will be presented to the county commissioners at a regular commission meeting Thursday, would greatly reduce the number of accidents on the causeway. Last year there were 72.
County Commissioner Uli Keller said the restriction of cell phone use on the causeway would help drivers pay attention to the road.
"A majority of inattentive driving is due to cell phones," he said. "They're probably concentrating on the conversation more than the traffic."
Bull f**king Shit. (sorry Mom and Pat, but no other words adequately cover this situation…)
FIRST of all, if the Glynn county police department started busting ass, 24/7, enforcing the speed limit on the Torras Causeway, 99% of the problems would be eliminated. As I’ve said before, I used to be a wild eyed speeding moron with TWO radar detectors and a cinder block foot on my car’s throttle, but I’ve put that part of my motoring experience behind me.
Today I drive like my dad did in his day…speed limit...
cruise control...
no problem.
I spend my time here on St. Simons playing a game I call “Train.”
For my part, I’m the train's engine in my car, driving along EXACTLY at the speed limit, and ALL of the other idiots on the road behind me are train cars and the last one speeding along that comes roaring up on my ass gets to be “the Caboose.”
I have a great time because by thinking of this game I avoid bursting a blood vessel shouting at the asshole that is driving so close to my bumper that I can't see his/her grill and headlights.
Life might suck because of drivers like me for some people, but I didn’t leave the insanity of Atlanta, Georgia after 27 years of losing my mind in commuter traffic to come down here to the Georgia coast and be in a hurry.
I’M NOT IN A HURRY. You got that?
I...
AM...
NOT...
IN A....
HURRY...
This damn island is only 11 miles long and 4 miles wide, and by my calculations if I drive 20 miles an hour over the speed limit I can get home 15 seconds faster than if I obey the speed limit.
It's not worth it.
It’s a no brainer for me here people.
WE DO NOT NEED YET ANOTHER LAW TO SOLVE THIS PROBLEM.
DAMN THE GOVERNMENT, and Uli Keller is my County Commissioner and he will be hearing from me (again) this week.
Now what is that E-mail address???
Wednesday, January 04, 2006
Geraldo Disappears
Funny thing here...Geraldo Rivera was all over the West Virginia mining accident story at midnight--hooting and hollaring on a satellite phone as the word broke that 12 miners were still alive. He had supposedly just drove up near the church when the celebration broke out.
Then the story changed drastically, all but one of the miners were dead, and Geraldo just...
Disappeared. Poof, flash...gone...
What is up with that?
Did he too get trapped in a mineshaft?
Did he find Jimmy Hoffa's vault again?
Just wondering....
Then the story changed drastically, all but one of the miners were dead, and Geraldo just...
Disappeared. Poof, flash...gone...
What is up with that?
Did he too get trapped in a mineshaft?
Did he find Jimmy Hoffa's vault again?
Just wondering....
Things I Wish I'd Said
I was looking around the web and found these wonderful quotes from Mark Twain:
Under certain circumstances, profanity provides a relief denied even to prayer
Part of the secret of a success in life is to eat what you like and let the food fight it out inside.
It is better to deserve honors and not have them than to have them and not deserve them.
Let us be thankful for the fools. But for them the rest of us could not succeed.
You can't depend on your eyes when your imagination is out of focus.
First, God created idiots. That was just for practice. Then He created school boards.
Clothes make the man. Naked people have little or no influence on society.
Suppose you were an idiot... And suppose you were a member of Congress... But I repeat myself
Why shouldn't truth be stranger than fiction? Fiction, after all, has to make sense.
Dance like no one is watching. Sing like no one is listening. Love like you've never been hurt and live like it's heaven on Earth.
If you tell the truth you don't have to remember anything
Sacred cows make the best hamburger.
Never tell the truth to people who are not worthy of it.
It's not the size of the dog in the fight, it's the size of the fight in the dog.
When I was a boy of 14, my father was so ignorant I could hardly stand to have the old man around. But when I got to be 21, I was astonished at how much the old man had learned in seven years.
When angry count four; when very angry, swear.
The holy passion of Friendship is of so sweet and steady and loyal and enduring a nature that it will last through a whole lifetime, if not asked to lend money.
I have never let my schooling interfere with my education
Denial ain't just a river in Egypt.
The only way to keep your health is to eat what you don't want, drink what you don't like, and do what you'd rather not.
One of the striking differences between a cat and a lie is that a cat has only nine lives.
Grief can take care of itself, but to get the full value of joy you must have somebody to divide it with.
I didn't have time to write a short letter, so I wrote a long one instead.
And Finally...
The man who doesn't read good books has no advantage over the man who can't read them.
Under certain circumstances, profanity provides a relief denied even to prayer
Part of the secret of a success in life is to eat what you like and let the food fight it out inside.
It is better to deserve honors and not have them than to have them and not deserve them.
Let us be thankful for the fools. But for them the rest of us could not succeed.
You can't depend on your eyes when your imagination is out of focus.
First, God created idiots. That was just for practice. Then He created school boards.
Clothes make the man. Naked people have little or no influence on society.
Suppose you were an idiot... And suppose you were a member of Congress... But I repeat myself
Why shouldn't truth be stranger than fiction? Fiction, after all, has to make sense.
Dance like no one is watching. Sing like no one is listening. Love like you've never been hurt and live like it's heaven on Earth.
If you tell the truth you don't have to remember anything
Sacred cows make the best hamburger.
Never tell the truth to people who are not worthy of it.
It's not the size of the dog in the fight, it's the size of the fight in the dog.
When I was a boy of 14, my father was so ignorant I could hardly stand to have the old man around. But when I got to be 21, I was astonished at how much the old man had learned in seven years.
When angry count four; when very angry, swear.
The holy passion of Friendship is of so sweet and steady and loyal and enduring a nature that it will last through a whole lifetime, if not asked to lend money.
I have never let my schooling interfere with my education
Denial ain't just a river in Egypt.
The only way to keep your health is to eat what you don't want, drink what you don't like, and do what you'd rather not.
One of the striking differences between a cat and a lie is that a cat has only nine lives.
Grief can take care of itself, but to get the full value of joy you must have somebody to divide it with.
I didn't have time to write a short letter, so I wrote a long one instead.
And Finally...
The man who doesn't read good books has no advantage over the man who can't read them.
The Report Of My Death Was An Exaggeration
I love the work of Samuel Clemmons. You know…Mark Twain…the author of “Tom Sawyer” and “Huckleberry Finn.” He actually wrote several million more words than contained in those two books, but that is about as far as most people ever get into his repertoire.
I often wish that I could have lived in the earlier, easier times Mr. Clemmons lived in during the 1800’s. I think that I would have fit in better back then. Of course the idea of any time in history being “earlier” and “easier” is a matter of perspective—hindsight being 20/20 and all that…
My title of this posting comes from Mr. Twain’s words that are very popular but are often slightly misquoted. Here is the actual wording:
“James Ross Clemens, a cousin of mine was seriously ill two or three weeks ago in London but is well now. The report of my illness grew out of his illness. The report of my death was an exaggeration.”
I’ve seen this quotation reproduced, mis-quoted, and otherwise mutilated many times before, but I believe that the above wording is accurate.
In addition to Clemmons being a well known writer, he was also a media critic in his day. He worked for newspapers, he knew news people, and, like me, he knew that many if not most “reporters” were idiots.
I’ve just spent another couple of hours watching the professional media “piranhas” attack West Virginia Governor Joe Manchin at his press conference following the statements of the Bennett K. Hatfield, CEO of International Coal group.
Twelve people are dead, but the reporters are circling the bloody water looking for who or what to blame for the mistaken news of survival reported earlier. All they have to do is look in the mirror to find the answer. I’m afraid that I fall into this same group since I jumped on this Blog at midnight and repeated the news that I had gotten—SECOND HAND.
This kind of thing would have probably never happened in Mark Twain’s day—a time before an instant, 24/7 news cycle.
Heck, it probably wouldn’t have happened in the 1970’s or 80’s.
Gosh do I ever long for the days before fax machines, Federal Express, and E-mail. Yes, sometimes it’s damn convientant to have instant gratification via electronics and technology, but often times it’s better to let things cool off a little, sleep on it overnight while you consider what you’re thinking and what you’re going to say as a result.
My heart goes out to the families of these twelve men that elected to make their living working underground. The media is going to spin in circles and flap their arms and raise general hell about the accident and the secondary story of the survivors that ended up being dead in the end.
Some poor woman stated in an interview that she intended to sue the mining company for the error? On what basis? She can certainly sue if the company is proven negligent, but can she sue simply because she spent an extra three hours believing that her husband was alive when he had actually succumbed to carbon monoxide poisoning hours before?
They will probably assault the safety record of this mining company and portray the EVIL capitalists in the business of making money at the risk of life and limb of innocent Democrats that continue to elect Robert “Pretty Pretty” Byrd to the US Senate. Jay Rockefeller will probably have to convene a Congressional investigation as a result.
In the end, it will be much ado about nothing—except a tragic day in the mining business.
My Grandfather elected to go to work in the Red Parrot coal mine in Prenter, West Virginia in the 1920’s because it was the best paying job in his little part of the world. My relatives today choose to work underground in the mines or drive giant coal trucks down crappy, winding, twisting roads in Ohio and West Virginia because that job is better than no job and they think that the higher pay justifies the risks that they choose to take.
Where I come from, you make your choices, and you accept responsibility for the outcome.
We don’t need government and the media to insulate us from life’s realities.
I often wish that I could have lived in the earlier, easier times Mr. Clemmons lived in during the 1800’s. I think that I would have fit in better back then. Of course the idea of any time in history being “earlier” and “easier” is a matter of perspective—hindsight being 20/20 and all that…
My title of this posting comes from Mr. Twain’s words that are very popular but are often slightly misquoted. Here is the actual wording:
“James Ross Clemens, a cousin of mine was seriously ill two or three weeks ago in London but is well now. The report of my illness grew out of his illness. The report of my death was an exaggeration.”
I’ve seen this quotation reproduced, mis-quoted, and otherwise mutilated many times before, but I believe that the above wording is accurate.
In addition to Clemmons being a well known writer, he was also a media critic in his day. He worked for newspapers, he knew news people, and, like me, he knew that many if not most “reporters” were idiots.
I’ve just spent another couple of hours watching the professional media “piranhas” attack West Virginia Governor Joe Manchin at his press conference following the statements of the Bennett K. Hatfield, CEO of International Coal group.
Twelve people are dead, but the reporters are circling the bloody water looking for who or what to blame for the mistaken news of survival reported earlier. All they have to do is look in the mirror to find the answer. I’m afraid that I fall into this same group since I jumped on this Blog at midnight and repeated the news that I had gotten—SECOND HAND.
This kind of thing would have probably never happened in Mark Twain’s day—a time before an instant, 24/7 news cycle.
Heck, it probably wouldn’t have happened in the 1970’s or 80’s.
Gosh do I ever long for the days before fax machines, Federal Express, and E-mail. Yes, sometimes it’s damn convientant to have instant gratification via electronics and technology, but often times it’s better to let things cool off a little, sleep on it overnight while you consider what you’re thinking and what you’re going to say as a result.
My heart goes out to the families of these twelve men that elected to make their living working underground. The media is going to spin in circles and flap their arms and raise general hell about the accident and the secondary story of the survivors that ended up being dead in the end.
Some poor woman stated in an interview that she intended to sue the mining company for the error? On what basis? She can certainly sue if the company is proven negligent, but can she sue simply because she spent an extra three hours believing that her husband was alive when he had actually succumbed to carbon monoxide poisoning hours before?
They will probably assault the safety record of this mining company and portray the EVIL capitalists in the business of making money at the risk of life and limb of innocent Democrats that continue to elect Robert “Pretty Pretty” Byrd to the US Senate. Jay Rockefeller will probably have to convene a Congressional investigation as a result.
In the end, it will be much ado about nothing—except a tragic day in the mining business.
My Grandfather elected to go to work in the Red Parrot coal mine in Prenter, West Virginia in the 1920’s because it was the best paying job in his little part of the world. My relatives today choose to work underground in the mines or drive giant coal trucks down crappy, winding, twisting roads in Ohio and West Virginia because that job is better than no job and they think that the higher pay justifies the risks that they choose to take.
Where I come from, you make your choices, and you accept responsibility for the outcome.
We don’t need government and the media to insulate us from life’s realities.
Not ALIVE
I'm sitting here at 2:58 PM in disbelief.
FOX News now says that all but one of the WV coal miners are dead.
Even the Governor of West Virginia was wandering around about midnight saying that all but one had survived, and now he has to do a 180 and say that all but one is DEAD.
I'm as guilty as anybody in live blogging this story by passing on unverified information, but again I ask you:
PROFESSIONAL MEDIA?
Where?
ACCURATE INFORMATION?
When?
I WANT MY MONEY BACK...
FOX News now says that all but one of the WV coal miners are dead.
Even the Governor of West Virginia was wandering around about midnight saying that all but one had survived, and now he has to do a 180 and say that all but one is DEAD.
I'm as guilty as anybody in live blogging this story by passing on unverified information, but again I ask you:
PROFESSIONAL MEDIA?
Where?
ACCURATE INFORMATION?
When?
I WANT MY MONEY BACK...
Tuesday, January 03, 2006
ALIVE!
They just came on FOX News and reported that they found 12 of the 13 miners ALIVE after nearly two days trapped underground.
They had earlier found one of the miners dead about 2 miles into the entrance passage.
At first, rescue crews moved slowly through the mine shaft, because they had to stabilize it and repair the roof as they went along. But on Tuesday, officials said, the rescuers realized they had no time to waste and abandoned that approach.
The Mine Safety and Health Administration had rescue and safety specialists on the scene, set up a command center and brought in a robot capable of exploring areas too dangerous for humans. But the robot was abandoned after it became bogged down in the mud.
The cause of the explosion was under investigation. Coal mine explosions are typically caused by buildups of naturally occurring methane gas. Manchin spokeswoman Lara Ramsburg said earlier that it may have been sparked by lightning.
I have to admit that I didn't personally hold out much hope as the clock ticked onward, but here is proof that self sufficent PEOPLE can take care of themselves, without GOVERNMENT intervention, given the opportunity and training.
I wish that the media would get the hell out and let the families celebrate and tell us all about it tomorrow after a good nights sleep.
Nope...Geraldo is already poised to get in their coal smudged faces...
They had earlier found one of the miners dead about 2 miles into the entrance passage.
At first, rescue crews moved slowly through the mine shaft, because they had to stabilize it and repair the roof as they went along. But on Tuesday, officials said, the rescuers realized they had no time to waste and abandoned that approach.
The Mine Safety and Health Administration had rescue and safety specialists on the scene, set up a command center and brought in a robot capable of exploring areas too dangerous for humans. But the robot was abandoned after it became bogged down in the mud.
The cause of the explosion was under investigation. Coal mine explosions are typically caused by buildups of naturally occurring methane gas. Manchin spokeswoman Lara Ramsburg said earlier that it may have been sparked by lightning.
I have to admit that I didn't personally hold out much hope as the clock ticked onward, but here is proof that self sufficent PEOPLE can take care of themselves, without GOVERNMENT intervention, given the opportunity and training.
I wish that the media would get the hell out and let the families celebrate and tell us all about it tomorrow after a good nights sleep.
Nope...Geraldo is already poised to get in their coal smudged faces...
