"Former Marine Kills Pregnant Robber"

And The Beat Goes On...


I seriously believe that I should rename this blog "Bashing The Military."

Or maybe I'll just start another blog with that name, because it would basically write itself each day.

The media would do all of the work and I'd just provide links to things like this story published yesterday in the Atlanta Journal and Constitution with the original headline "Former Marine Kills Pregnant Robber.

Isn't that just lovely..."Former Marine Kills Pregnant Robber" screams the headline of both the print edition and the online edition of Tuesday Morning's paper.

I saw the online headline with my own eyes after radio talk show host Neal Boortz pointed it out on the air yesterday morning.

I should have cached the story on my computer because between about 10:30 AM Tuesday and now the AJC has taken the story and headline off of their web page

Why?

I think that it is because the key word in their headline, the word designed to raise your eyebrows, was the word "Pregnant."

Well, it turns out that the headline was at least PARTIALLY true.

The potential robbery victim was a "former marine."

And, there was an attempted robbery.

So good, so far, RIGHT?

The only problem was, that the dead woman wasn't pregnant.

Son of a gun...

I'm sure that they were crushed in the AJC newsroom, so much so that the cowards took the story down off their website and republished it with a different headline. The revised story also includes a statement that the woman wasn't actually pregnant.

Thus far I can't find a retraction or any other admission of their initial error, just a revised story slipped into the ether of the internet. All of those dead tree print editions of the Tuesday morning paper were still laying on doorsteps and coffee tables at the end of the day while Atlanta's and the world's attention turned to other matters; but their brains have already filed the fact that "a former Marine killed a pregnant girl in Atlanta Monday night."

If you read the headline, isn't that what you believed?

Let me ask you a couple of questions...

Why not use the headline "Citizen Kills Stupid Bitch Robber"?

Why not use the headline "Useless Sperm Sponge Erased In Robbery Attempt"?

Of course half my readers are now offended at my reference and most of Atlanta would have stormed the AJC offices and set the building ablaze and tarred and feathered the writers and management if they had chosen those words as a headline.

But the words "Former Marine" are perfectly acceptable to 100% of the liberals and 75% of the pansy assed conservatives out there because bashing MEN and "FORMER MARINES" is common sport in the media and the polite liberal cocktail parties of Washington DC, New York City, San Francisco, and LA.

And why the focus on the "former marine" status of the potential robbery victim?

Perhaps because he was actually able to successfully defend himself as a result of his prior training?

What kind of training would that be?

"Army Training...Sir" (Thanks to Bill Murray's character John Winger in the movie "Stripes" for that line...)

OK...Actually MARINE training, but I digress...

My guess is that as a former Marine Corporal and Desert Storm veteran, that 36 year old Thomas Autry had experience with things like hand to hand combat, and when accosted by not one but FIVE little hard headed black punks on the streets of Midtown Atlanta, and after calling for help and attempting to run away--disengagement as it is known in the military--that when cornered by the little black bitch lovely young African American woman and stupid black punk bastard misguided young African American man wielding a SHOTGUN and a PISTOL his "former marine training" took over.

Corporal Autry managed to kick the guns out of the little black bitch lovely young African American woman and stupid black punk bastard's misguided young African American man's hands, but then fatally stabbed the little black bitch lovely young African American woman and seriously wounded the stupid black bastard misguided young African American man in hand to hand combat armed only with a small pocket knife.

Not a buck knife or a switch blade or a sword or a chef's knife...but a street legal pocket knife--something like you use to clean your fingernails or whittle on a stick with.

Buy the way, I suspect that Corporal Autry could have killed you or me with his bare hands or a with something as simple as a toothpick if the need had arisen.

Good for him.

And while I'm at it--pissing everybody off--let me point out that nowhere in the published news articles does any of the lamestream media bother to mention the race of the victim or the robbers.

What's up with that?

I had to go to the WSB TV website and watch online video of interviews with the victim and the dead girl's mother to find out that this was yet another example of "black on black crime."

So let me get this straight. The media is all over the story from the angle of the guy doing the "killing" being a "Former Marine," but the concept of addressing the deeper black African American cultural and social issues are overridden by their desire to continue to defame the US military.

I don't know about you, but I've had it right up to HERE, pointing to the top of my every greying, ever balding head...

Hurricane Reality For Beginners

And A Wake Up Call For St. Simons Island


I was doing a little snooping around on the Glynn County web site this morning, and I tripped over these two images.

Here, take a look at the real estate tax map of the south end of our little island, with the lighthouse on the left (west) side of the photo.






















And here's the area just to the east...


Notice all of those purple and green lines outlining rectangles that appear floating out in the water?

Those little boxes represent 53 complete building lots that no longer exist because of the influence of Hurricane Dora in 1964.

Two roads, Beachview and Postell, were washed away in the process, and now there is no beach at high tide--just a line of giant granite rocks placed along the shoreline by President Johnson as a result of the damage.

With Hurricane season beginning in the next couple of days, I'm completely rethinking my own strategy when it comes to investing in real estate and selecting a place to live, because I think that it's just a matter of time until we have another catastrophic strike here in the Golden Isles.

We're way past due statistically, and it ain't going to be pretty here when the next one comes knocking on our doors and pounding on our roofs.

Wish us luck.

Here's Your Choices

I'll let You Decide For Yourself


As I understand history, our grandparents' generation had a choice between listening to these two men:


(For those that are historically challenged, this would be Neville Chamberland)



(...and...Sir Winston Churchill)


Today you and I have our own choice as to which of two gentlemen we're going to listen to:






Afghanistan and Iraq will soon be on the back burner as Iran comes to the forefront.

Funny thing, but to me this little insane bastard:




acts a little too much like this insane bastard:




So...as I said in my title...

YOU DECIDE

Just In Time For Memorial Day

A Few Final Media Insults


Since it is Memorial Day, I feel like continuing along on the theme of my earlier ranting about the lamestream media’s coverage of the US military and the war on terror.

I was going to drop the issue until I saw how the spin and headlines developed on this LA Times story about a military truck accident involving several civilian vehicles:

Riots Erupt After U.S. Vehicles Flee Accident Scene
By Wesal Zaman and Paul Watson7:37 PM PDT, May 29, 2006

KABUL, Afghanistan -- In the Afghan capital's worst unrest since the fall of the Taliban five years ago, Afghan mobs fought running battles Monday with troops and police trying to quell riots sparked when U.S. military vehicles fled the scene of a fatal accident after hitting civilians.

At least eight people were killed, and more than 100 injured, most in the rioting that followed an early morning traffic accident involving a convoy of U.S. military vehicles, Afghan officials said.

Rioters attacked the offices of the United Nations and foreign aid agencies, looting computers, books, desks and even shoes. They also set fire to numerous police check posts across Kabul, and as the mobs continued to run amok in mid-afternoon, a pall of smoke hung over some districts of the capital.

Protesters shouted "Death to America!" and in a local epithet, "Death to Dog Washers!" They also condemned President Hamid Karzai and the former Afghan king, Mohammad Zaher Shah.

Ahhhh, the good old LA Times…I almost love to hate and ridicule them as much as I do the NY Times. In fact, the LA Times could basically change their name to NY Times Left West Coast.

Of course if you read the headline you are led to believe that the US Military is driving around Afghanistan indiscriminately running over civilians and their vehicles, then once they are through wrecking havoc they’re just driving off into the sunset.

Wroooonnnnnggg

I first noticed reporting of this incident this morning and even I, the eternal skeptic and media critic, was sort of surprised at the actual conflict in the details of the story versus the headlines the media assheads professionals chose to place on top of the story.

Here is a sample of the other headlines I found doing a Google search:

Anti-US Rioting Erupts in Kabul; At Least 14 Dead (NY Times)

US faces new challenge after riots in Kabul puncture illusion of ... (Guardian UK)

Afghans riot after US troops shoot at mob (Indian Express)

Afghans Riot After Deadly Crash by US Military Truck (NY Times)

Death crash sparks riots (Ireland Online)

US Forces Fire at Afghan Protestors (Islam Online)

And finally, the Chicago Tribune follows the rule that “if you can’t say anything nice, just don’t say much of anything at all.”

Here’s their version of the story:

US convoy rams traffic jam; 3 dead

KABUL, AFGHANISTAN -- A convoy of U.S. troops accidentally rammed into a rush-hour traffic jam in the Afghan capital on Monday, killing at least three people and wounding 16, police said.

A riot broke out after the incident, with protesters shouting "Down to America!" and throwing stones and burning cars.

A U.S. military spokeswoman confirmed U.S. troops were involved in the accident but gave no details.

I sort of like the Tribune’s reporting method—that being to wait until the ACTUAL FACTS are available rather than doing things like the LA Times did in closing their earlier referenced story:

Witnesses said U.S. troops and Afghan security forces fired on the crowd as protesters hurled rocks and shot guns. But it was not clear who fired the first rounds.

Don’t you just love CRAP like these template statements “it was not clear who fired the first rounds”?

I have to ask why the heck they choose to write the story in the first place?

Why impugn the HELL out of the integrity and motives of our military forces based on “appearances” and facts that are “unclear.”

Why not resist editorializing and spend your time ACTUALLY REPORTING THE NEWS?

Yeah, I thought so…

It’s really all about POLITICS, and has nothing to do with actual NEWS REPORTING.

Idiots...

If They Don’t Like It…

They Can Always Just Get The Hell Out


I’m absolute sick of this shit. By “This Shit” I mean the way much of the media tends to portray the military in general on a day to day basis.

Let me preface this rant by saying that I’m a little biased since I grew up outside Ft. Rucker, Alabama in the 1960’s and 1970’s. Virtually every house in my neighborhood had a father, brother, or son fighting in Vietnam. I also volunteered to serve two years in the Navy reserve while in college and was subject to being called up for active duty until about eleven years ago.

I would have proudly gone if the Pentagon had called, although my crappy health would have probably caused them to spit be back out in my boxers once they took a look at me.

Any way…

It seems to me that when our forces are doing a GOOD JOB all we get is crappy coverage or no coverage at all, and when a solder or group of solders makes a mistake or acts out of willful malice, the medial is gleeful…yes, even giddy to blast headlines around the globe with words and phrases like “Baby Killers”, “In Cold Blood,” and “Renegade Troops.”

This most recent incident in Iraq is a perfect example. Just like the Abu Grab-Ass prison non-scandal, the military has already launched an investigation, locked up some suspects, and is expecting the final report and possible prosecutions to occur by some time this summer.

Case closed, in my book.

Not good enough for Pennsylvania’s partisan hack ex-marine John “bushy eyebrows” Murtha and the no-talent liberal Bush hating creatins at the NY Times.

Four people who identified themselves as survivors of the killings in Haditha, including some who had never spoken publicly, described the killings to an Iraqi writer and historian who was recruited by The New York Times to travel to Haditha and interview survivors and witnesses of what military officials have said appear to be unjustified killings of two dozen Iraqis by marines. Some in Congress fear the killings could do greater harm to the image of the United States military around the world than the Abu Ghraib prison scandal.

The four survivors' accounts could not be independently corroborated, and it was unclear in some cases whether they actually saw the killings. But much of what they said was consistent with broad outlines of the events of that day provided by military and government officials who have been briefed on the military's investigations into the killings, which the officials have said are likely to lead to charges that may include murder and a cover-up of what really happened.

The name of the Iraqi who conducted the interviews for The Times is being withheld for his own safety, because insurgents often make a target of Iraqis deemed collaborators.

In typical NY Times fashion, of course they publish a story full of unverified accusations and suppositions on their front pages, then they add the icing on the cake by using an unidentified source that they are hiding to “protect their safety.”

Funny thing, but since the Times story basically makes the US forces look like the murdering terrorists they’re attempting to engage, why should Al Qaeda and all of the other bad guys not applaud the Times sources efforts, not threaten their safety?

I expect that Al Zaqari and his turban clad, bearded wild eyed cohorts would be taking up a cash collection and buying cassettes and video tape so that the Times “sources” and the Iraqi “reporter” could run out and document other atrocities—real or imagined—to be splashed across the front pages of newspapers world wide.

How the hell can the lamestream media be so lacking in logical skills, even when they are hidden in their offices and pressrooms?

Where are their editors in this process?

If you read the article closely I think that you’ll find that once again the NY Times has rushed a story to print because it matches their reporting “template” about the US war effort and in an haphazard effort to attain the maximum “scoop factor” (remember CBS’s Dan Rather and the Texas Air National Guard Scandal.)

So what happens if it is determined that there really was a firefight and the Iraqis killed were harboring terrorists in their homes or were actual terrorists themselves?

What happens when the dust settles and the military and pending congressional investigations are concluded and it turns out that many fewer Marines were guilty and many fewer innocents were killed in the encounter?

You know what will happen—almost everybody that sits around watching CNN, ABC, CBS, and NBC or only reads the front page of their newspapers will be left believing that we’ve got troops running around shooting up everyone and everything in sight.

But that’s wrong, and the NY Times knows it.

99.9% of our troops are bright, educated, and highly trained men and women that are in Iraq to do a job, that being to make the world safe so that the assholes that wander in from their Manhattan lofts and New Jersey suburban bungalows to the offices of the Times can sit around and slander them and second guess their actions and decisions in ink virtually ever single day of the year.

It’s a good thing that all of these moronic urban “reporters” and so called “news people” spend hours at the gym each week, because if they had their way we’d have no military and their only protection would be turning tail and running away from any potential threats.

Have you ever had a gun pointed at your head?

I’ve had the barrel of a gun BROKEN OFF on my hard head, and I can tell you things look quite different when your looking at the business end of a weapon wielded by someone that you know is your enemy.

I’m fairly certain that the morons writing for the NY Times believe that the best prevention for having a gun aimed at their pointy head is to continue to assault the military and outlaw civilian ownership of guns, and I say that’s complete and total Bullshit.

All I have to say to all of the anti war, bleeding heart liberal morons out there in the media is “keep on writing your slander, and all of the bad assed guys in uniform will keep on breaking things and killing people (legally) to protect your rights to be IDIOTS.

And by the way, if they don't like it, they can always GET THE HELL OUT.

A Large Time Was Had By All

I’m Still Tired


I’m afraid that I’m suffering from a little too much sun and WAY too much food over the past two days.

I’ve already slept twice since wrapping up my “Drive By Pool Side Barbeque”, and almost everything has been washed and otherwise put away. I gave Pat the day off and handled the clean up and transportation of equipment and supplies back to the condo by myself.

Our twenty or so guests were well behaved and nothing was damaged and very little was spilled (at least that couldn’t be hosed off or wiped away.) Even the half dozen kids in attendance managed to get through the afternoon without making my head spin or requiring a good flogging.

This entertaining thing is hard work—I think that we’re going to take a few months off and let everyone else handle the chores for a change.

Dammit Gretta, Get Over It…

FOX News Succumbs To Eternal Reruns


I’ve already commented on this topic a couple of times, yet while I sit here watching two pounds of Boston Baked Beans and a giant chunk of pork shoulder simmer in my ovens I feel compelled to reiterate my earlier comments.

FOX’s Gretta Van Sustren’s topic this evening is YET AGAIN a worn out lost cause:

A. Natalee Holloway.

B. Aruba.

I believe that a better way to put things is this way.

A. Stupid little silly spoiled bitch without a clue.

B. Doting mindless divorced parents.

C. Third world country.

No matter how you try to explain the situation, I say that when you combine A+B or A+B+C you come up with a formula for disaster.

They can argue and endlessly complain about the Aruban police’s ineptitude and the potential guilt of the Van der Sloote punk and his two Kalpoe brother side kicks, but the real engineers of Natalee’s death were her mother and stepfather, the “Twitties”, who allowed her to travel to Aruba and flash her ignorant little eighteen year old tittles around an island full of sexual predators and drug dealers.

Hanging out on spring break in Panama City or Ft. Lauderdale is light years away in terms of safety when compared to most Caribbean Islands and the Mexican Riveria.

Little hundred pound teenaged girls found stumbling around drunk in the wee hours of the morning are equally at risk in Birmingham, Alabama; Atlanta, Georgia; or Cancun or Cozmel Mexico.

So sorry Mrs. Twitty, but YOU killed your daughter when you put her on the airliner in the first place. I sincerely hope you can find some peace one day, but if I were you I'm afraid that I'd never be able to look at my reflection in a mirror ever again.

I hope parents everywhere are paying attention.

Here's What You're Missing

It's Getting A Little Strange Out Here...


OK, I just got back from my little photo shoot, and I encountered a couple of unexpected surprises in the process.

Here's the sunrise that you missed while you were sleeping in this morning:



I managed to disturb this guy while I was hanging around on the edge of the marsh waiting for 6:24 AM to arrive:



Then I caught this bird and plan on serving it at my barbeque tomorrow afternoon:



Anyone have a good recipe for Flamingo?

Maybe a sauce and some pasta...

Anything???

Help Me...Please...

Drive-By, Pool-Side Barbeque

Don’t You Wish That You Were At My Place This Weekend?


A couple of years ago I came up with the idea of staging an impromptu pool side barbeque. The process involved going out to the neighborhood pool, setting up my Webber Kettle grill, powering up the blender, and stepping back to see what happened.

When it was all over with I had cooked several racks of baby back ribs, a Pineapple, various salads and slaw, and I think that I went home hungry because I ended up giving away all but two or three of the individual ribs when the dust settled. We also killed a bottle of Tequila and a fifth of Rum making Margaritas and Pina Coladas.

We attained success by my standards, particularly since we had no standards when we started our little adventure. The key for me was the word impromptu—a low stress, low effort event that both the hosts and the attendees could enjoy without breaking a sweat.

Last year we got rained out on Memorial Day Weekend, but with any luck we’ll do our Second annual Drive-By, Pool-Side Barbeque again on Saturday.

I’ve actually broken my own rules by leaking the word out that a barbeque will be happening starting about 3 PM on Saturday. As a result, we are getting some help in the form of side dishes, deserts, and other contributions and I just hope that the weather holds out.

This year’s menu includes barbequed, pulled pork shoulder roast and chicken breasts. Those pig and chicken pieces are already swimming in a nice brine mixture as we speak. These dishes will feature my home made Kansas City Style Barbeque Sauce. No store bought bottled stuff for my guests.

And of course there’ll be hamburgers and hot dogs in the mix for the unimaginative or really hungry attendees

We’ll also be making Hawaiian Cold Slaw and Fancy Asian Cold Slaw, and the Boston Baked Beans are also currently simmering on the stovetop with some pork neck bones in early preparations.

I just finished two dozen hard boiled eggs that are lounging in iced water in the fridge and will be further processed today as “deviled eggs.” I’ll have to warn my guests to watch out for the ones with the Jalapeno peppers in there replacing the pickle relish.

Now I have to go because I have a date with a lovely island sunrise, and my camera and tripod won't take themselves out to the marsh unless I drive them or walk them over.

Throw All Of The Bastards Bums Out

Where's My Really Big Pointy Stick


OK, I’ve had it right up to here (pointing to the top of my ever graying, ever balding head.)

Have you been following the soap opera surrounding Louisiana Democratic Representative William Jefferson?

You know, the US Congressman from New Orleans that tied up two 5 ton National Guard trucks and a helicopter back in September under the guise of checking on his “constituents.”

You know, the US Congressman that ended up needing two 5 ton National Guard trucks and a helicopter to go to his own house in New Orleans to ”retrieve important documents, records, and personal items.”

You know, the US Congressman that had a 5 ton National Guard truck drive up into his front yard so he wouldn’t get his thousand dollar Italian shoes wet going into his house to “retrieve important documents, records, and personal items.”

You know, the US Congressman that, when the 5 ton National Guard truck got stuck in his front yard after waiting for him for over an HOUR while he gathered his "important documents, records, and personal items," then he refused to ride the lifeline to the helicopter that had been diverted to his rescue.

You know, the pansy assed US Congressman that refused to board the helicopter that was diverted from rescuing stranded citizens from the floodwaters, even after a rescue diver risked his own life by jumping from the helicopter not once but TWICE to give him assistance.

You know, the pansy assed, chicken shit US Congressman that was already responsible for diverting a five ton National Guard truck and a helicopter from rescue operations, and required yet ANOTHER five ton National Guard truck to remove his lily livered, pansy assed, chicken shit, elitist black ass and his possessions from his front yard while citizens were still stranded on roofs and in trees by Katrina’s floodwaters.

Yes…THAT William Jefferson, US Representative, Democrat from New Orleans.

Now I hear that they have video tape of the honorable William Jefferson taking a hundred grand as a bribe for some African Telecommunications scheme, and that they found ninety grand of it wrapped in zip lock baggies and tin foil in his freezer.

And the topper is that after waiting for eight months for him to supply "important doucments, records, and personal items" to the FBI relating to the aforementioned bribery scandal, the FBI obtained and executed a search warrant on the Congressional office of William Jefferson, Democrat from New Orleans, and now the other pompus shitheads other elitist assholes elected officials in Washington DC have gotten their thongs in a bunch over the apparent violation of their sanctuaries.

So now I have to watch Dennis Hastert and Nancy Pelosi, sitting on opposite sides if not astride of the isle in the US Congress, jump into the fray and show themselves to be the moronic elitists that they are.

If any of you out there can possibly believe that any more than a couple hundred of the 535 elected shitheads Senators and Representatives in Washington DC have anything close to your interests in mind for five minutes after they are sworn into office…

I have some ocean front property in Nevada I’d like you to look at…because it’s for sale…

CHEEP.

I Could Be An American Idol?

A White Boy From Alabama Wins!


Just in case you’re wondering, let me let you know that I DON’T WATCH AMERICAN IDOL.

Well…OK…I did manage to trip over and watch a couple of the early shows this season featuring the idiots that can’t carry a tune in a bucket embarrassing four generations of their family and the show with that stupid guy that sang like Cher and then cried when he was unceremoniously asked to exit the building.

Any way…

I was sitting here doing my morning perusal of the news on the internet and editing some photos when FOX News came on and said that the “salt and pepper” headed white boy soul singer from Alabama won this season’s American Idol.

WTF?

I though that you had to be black or have dreadlocks or flash your giant fake tits and otherwise be totally superficial and fake in personality and demeanor to even compete into the late rounds of American Idol.

Are Americans coming to their senses and actually rewarding TALENT for singing rather than supporting people like the no-talent dysfunctional psychopathic sycophants that have people paying for dialing 1-900 phone numbers to vote for their favorites in the past?

Let me get this straight…

An almost middle aged (29 year old) white boy from ALABAMA won American Idol?

A guy named Taylor Hicks won American Idol?

And he had grey (OK…salt and pepper) hair…but was basically normal looking, with natural hair none the less?

Not only did this guy have the family name “Taylor” that is shared with my mother’s family (I have a cousin and an uncle named Taylor in addition to my mother’s mother’s family name being “Taylor’s”) but his last name is “Hicks”—a term that most everybody in New York and Massachusetts uses to describe almost everybody from Alabama.

Well, since I didn’t watch the shows or vote on the outcome, I can’t take any credit for the results, but I can say that it is interesting that someone like Taylor Hicks has managed to perform his way through the gauntlet of bullshit that previously has sidelined anyone that remotely resembles myself and my peers residing here in our middle age in the southern United States of America.

Maybe there is some hope for this country after all…

History—From A Hysterical Historical Perspective

Even More Random Thoughts And Cogitations


One thing that I’ve learned over the past 46 years residing here on this lovely planet is this fact:

I DON’T KNOW SHIT FROM SHINEOLA WHEN IT COMES TO SUBSTANTIAL PORTIONS OF HISTORY—US HISTORY OR OTHERWISE.

Another thing that I’ve come to realize is that many if not most people around me know even less than I do.

A major problem, as I see it, is that our schools aren’t teaching history any more.

History curriculums are all tangled up in the political agendas of the liberal textbook publishers and the political correctness crowds, and what little factual history that actually manages to leak through the process and gets taught in a few classrooms falls on the ignorant, deaf ears of children that could care less about the lessons to be learned from studying the few successes and many failures of our ancestors.

I know that I couldn’t have cared less about history lessons when I was in school back in the 1960’s and 1970’s, but I did manage to absorb enough names and dates to supply me with a foundation to learn a good deal more about the events that preceded my appearance on the planet in 1959.

With rare exceptions, it seems that your history genes only kick in after you’ve lived through two or three decades of your own personal history and start realizing that a broad knowledge of world history might represent a good form of an “owner’s manual” for living life in general.

I wish that I could go back and take all of my classes over again, because I might come away with an appreciation of the efforts and tribulations of our predecessors that could have saved me a good deal of time and effort expended because of my ignorance to date.

The other thing that I’m learning to appreciate is the oral history provided by older people that I come in contact with.

Everything from family stories recited by my recently departed 93 year old grandmother to stories of growing up on Long Island, NY in the 1920’s and 1930’s told by my 85 year old friend Harlan “Bucky” Strader (Dartmouth Class of 1942) have slipped right past me in my day to day life and I can’t remember 1% of what I was told.

I wish that I could keep a tape recorder in my pocket and pull it out and thrust the microphone toward some of the characters that I’ve known in the past and/or still run into today.

My Uncle John—the WWII B-25 tail gunner—and “Old Man Schwaller” that lives down the street and grew up in Chicago in the 1920’s come to mind at first, but on second thought our little island is a haven for literally hundreds if not thousands of ancient individuals with amazing historical insights to relate, if someone would just listen.

Our neighborhood lost another beloved resident, 89 year old Laura, to heart failure last weekend. Although I hardly knew her, I did know that Laura was from a well-to-do local family and grew up riding a steam ship ferry from Sea Island to the mainland to attend grade school in the 1920’s and early 1930’s before the causeway connected the islands to the mainland.

She told stories of playing Golf in the UK at St. Andrews and riding horses instead of driving a car around the island and seeing the Georgia coastal islands go from the playground of industrial magnates like Morgan, Coffin, Vanderbilt, and Rockefeller to becoming the home of thousands of slightly above average Americans (all legends in our own minds) that it is today.

Ironically, I’ve set here this morning with the History Channel droning on in the background with their program addressing the potential disaster that a hurricane striking NY City would cause.

It seems to me that since Hurricane Katrina hit New Orleans that the media and much of general public are continuously in a state of hysterical disarray about the potential of additional “killer hurricanes” coming grinding on shore this summer to kill women, children, and minorities is disproportionate numbers.

Excuse me while I take this opportunity to YAWN in a quite disinterested manner.

You see, using my own intimate knowledge of history, this middle aged southern Redneck has lived to be on a first name basis with a number of category two and three hurricanes in the past and all I have to say is…

“Told you so…”

What I want to know is, why is everybody freaking out?

Just like the History Channel program pointed out, “killer storms” have hit places like NY City before in the past, and ignorantly building structures and placing your coffee table, wife, children, and dog (not to mention your photo album and family heirlooms) within miles if not yards of flood plains and coast lines is just inviting disaster.

The question isn’t IF, it’s WHEN you’ll appear on CNN and FOX News.

That said, I will admit we live within about a mile and one half of the Atlantic Ocean, and in addition the salt marsh is about 100 yards away from our front door. According to the media, I should tilt my head back, throw my arms into the air, and run screaming to the nearest FEMA official to complain about my plight in life.

But I won’t, because I’ve lived within a couple hundred miles of the Gulf of Mexico and the Atlantic my entire life (much of the time within 100 miles or less) and hurricanes are just part of life—not a news event or a government relief program in the making to me.

Gosh darn it people, anyone with any sense should realize that it’s just a matter of time until we get nailed here on St. Simons Island, and the fact that Miami missed Hurricane Andrew by 50 miles and Charleston, SC missed Hugo by 30 miles just makes the probability of a major strike imminent in the next ten or so years a no-brainer.

Get ready, because if the Bird Flue and the sharks and the alligators don’t get you, the next “monster storm” probably will.

Regardless of what form my ultimate demise takes, I’m going out kicking and screaming.

I just want to die of or for something other than cancer or old age...how about you?

Ramifications & Repercussions

Circumstantial Evidence


Well ladies and gentlemen, it’s now official.

I now hold the title of “Neighborhood Pool Nazi.”

This being the beginning of our third summer spending 90% of my time lounging like a turtle poolside, I’m living, breathing proof that some people aspire to greatness, while others have it thrust upon them sit around and are smacked in the head with it while they’re taking a nap.

It’s a title that I’ve not really worked very hard at obtaining, but I did pass up the positions of “old neighborhood bastard” and various and sundry subordinate positions of “second lieutenant curmudgeon of this or that” because they were already substantially occupied by other long term residents of our condo complex.

The position (“neighborhood pool Nazi”) doesn’t actually pay anything in financial remuneration, but it does have its benefits, and it’s basically the only “unofficial” official title that can be had if you’re under the age of one hundred fifty.

I’ve learned from past experience that basically no one pays any attention to the swimming pool out here except for me, and as a result a bunch of stupid things have happened in the past that could have been prevented if someone…anyone…would spend twenty minutes once a month just walking past the pool area and making a couple of phone calls.

For instance, last year the pool service contractor did their usual crappy job (because no one was paying any attention) and the pool water turned green from an algae bloom and the pool was closed over the FOURTH OF JULY WEEKEND.

What total stupid crap—of all times to make sure the pool is in good shape, one would expect that the holiday weekends would be a priority, but nnnoooooooooooo—that would require organization and make sense.

The year before last the county inspector came in and had an absolute shit fit conniption fit poolside because of a half dozen violations that the stupid asshole property manager, Mr. Steve Kendall, said that he didn’t have time to worry about.

(I am making an exception to my standard privacy policy in naming Mr. Kendall in this posting since he has directly insulted me several times without provocation and he is a textbook example of an incompetent, unprofessional, useless asshole when it comes to performing real estate property management. I feel that I’m performing a public service by mentioning his qualifications, or the lack thereof.)

It has taken me twenty seven months conducting a constant drumbeat of rhetoric and commentary directed at the board of directors and the new property management company to get the pool brought up to the functional and safety standards expected of a community swimming pool that also in theory serves the public.

One emergency telephone, one life ring, a fence repair and paint job, 48 sets of keys to the pool house restrooms, a few lounge chairs here or there, and we almost have a first class operation on our hands.

The total cost, not including my time and efforts, was $1.99 less than $3,000.

Hurray for me…

I basically been cruising along on autopilot, until today when I sat quietly poolside and watched our pool service guy spend a good fifteen minutes vacuuming the pool, dumping a few handfuls of chemicals into the water, and then get in his truck and drive away WITHOUT TESTING THE POOL WATER CHEMISTRY.

WTF?

You have to understand that “community swimming pools” are required by law to have the pool water chemistry tested EVERY DAY, but we settle for testing twice each week because thus far it has been impractical and expensive to have it done daily. (I’ve also offered to test the water myself if they would supply me with the test materials.)

I’m making a phone call tomorrow morning and arranging to have a little prayer meeting with the owner/manager of the pool service company. If I don’t get the quality of the pool service improved and we spend another holiday weekend with a green swimming pool, I guarantee you that I’ll relegate his company to the same status like “former” property manager Kendall’s operation.

The other thing I intend to do is kick a few asses when it comes to the behavior of some of our residents' and guests' children. For some reason that is beyond my understanding, the current pool rules state that “children under the age of 10 YEARS must have adult supervision.”

WTF?

I’m extremely tired of watching other people’s little bastards little darlins while they hide in their condos--peeking out of the curtains to make sure that a drowning isn't in progress else sitting dozens of yards away from their prodigy with their nose buried in a book.

Late yesterday afternoon I was walking back over across the parking lot to the pool with Pat and from a distance I heard children’s blusterous voices and I observed what I thought was a plastic deck chair flying through the air into the pool.

Then from a distance of about twenty yards I saw a plastic table land in the pool. I announced my presence while still hidden behind the pool house with a shout of “THAT IS UNACCEPTABLE BEHAVIOR!”

As I turned the corner at the fence gate I saw the stupid little fat assed 13 year old bastard Jake lovely young Master Jake (Sally’s son) emerging from the pool with a table in his hands. (As a matter of undeserved respect, I’m omitting last names here.)

Having already crossed swords with me many times in the past, I wasn’t surprised that stupid little fat assed 13 year old bastard Jake young Master Jake then re-entered the pool and extracted yet another table (not a chair as I had first thought) and then proceeded to collect his towel and belongings and he exited the pool deck without uttering a single solitary word.

Jake’s stupid bitch clueless mother lovely mother Sally, who had witnessed the goings on from the living room of her adjacent condo, then pulled the curtains.

Jake’s stupid bitch clueless mother lovely mother Sally had already accosted me and complained a couple of summers ago for my public commentary about stupid fat assed bastard Jake young Master Jake’s propensity to throw anything that was not tied down into the pool.

Jake’s stupid bitch clueless mother lovely mother Sally averred that it was just an unfortunate coincidence that things always ended up in the pool after stupid little fat assed bastard Jake her offspring visited our complex. Apparently gravity increased it’s affect on items on the pool deck and they just jumped or were otherwise drawn into the pool waters on their own.

Jake’s summer is going to be long and quite miserable if I have anything to say about it.

After all, a “Neighborhood Pool Nazi’s” job is never done.

Silence

Self Imposed…


Being the single minded fool that I am, I’ve spent most of my creative energy for the past four days doing only two things, and both of them involve color.

The first endeavor has involved soaking in about 20 hours of sunshine laying beside our swimming pool—enjoying the marvelous sun filled days and low humidity which we’ve had since this past Thursday. One of our neighbors commented that based on my tanned skin color they were beginning to doubt my race and country of origin.

The second project is my continuing efforts to produce extemporaneous pen and ink drawings and water color paintings while sitting outside—again in this case poolside.

I’m sure that all of the palm trees are quite flattered by the attention I’ve given them in painting their portraits this weekend. In addition, one lonely Magnolia blossom gave its life wilting in the sunshine as my subject on Sunday.

As to my writing (or the lack thereof) here on the blog, I’m fed up with being fed up. I just don’t have the desire or energy to bitch about the stupidity of our elected officials on both sides of the isle in Congress.

While I would never endorse violence over voting in establishing our representatives in government, I think that I can almost understand where John Wilkes Booth and John Hinkley were coming from when they committed the acts that inscribed their names to history.

The only problem today, besides breaking the law, would involve having to target practically every moron in Washington DC if you were actually going to make any meaningful difference in the governance of our lives.

I’m telling you people, until, and only until we enact TERM LIMITS and pass true campaign finance reform eliminating both “hard money” and “soft money”, we as productive individuals are going to be relegated to the back seats and sidelines as the politicians pander to the “poor” and “minorities” and “corporate interests.”

Right and wrong are secondary issues and I find that to be quite depressing

It seems to me that half the population is deluded, and the other half is just plain stupid.

Which half are you in?

Cheep Indian Cars

I Have The Secret Photos…


There was a time in my life when my car was not only my transportation, it was also my ego—or at least a public statement thereof. Over the past 32 years I’ve gone from a pre unleaded fueled 1974 Honda Civic to my current gas guzzling Chevy Suburban.

My first car cost a little over $2000 new, while my Suburban cost over $36,000 in 1995. In between was a parade of Audis, Buicks, Chevys, Nissans, and Pontiacs ranging in price from the thousands to the tens of thousands of dollars.

Today I could basically care less what I drive, as long as it is safe and reliable. My old Suburban meets those requirements nicely, in spite of costing nearly $125 to fill up it’s 42 gallon tank and only getting about 9 MPG.

That said, this Yahoo News story about a company in India producing a $2000 car caught my eye this morning:

NEW DELHI - India's largest automobile manufacturer, Tata Motors Ltd., said Thursday it plans to set up a plant in the communist-ruled West Bengal state to manufacture a family car that will cost little more than $2,000.

The plant will be set up with an investment of 10 billion rupees ($220 million), and is expected to start production in two years, said Ratan Tata, the company's chairman.

A prototype of the five-seater model to be manufactured at the West Bengal plant is undergoing tests at a Tata facility in the western Indian city of Pune, Tata said.

You've got to wonder how much car you could buy for $2,000 these days. I did a little research and I actually found a top secret photo of the new Indian conveyance.

Here…take a look for yourself.

I hope it doesn't rain much in India...

DUCK!

Incoming...

The Torture Continues

Incompetence Squared…


If I give you a baseball bat, will someone out there promise to beat some sense into me?

If I hand you a pointy stick, will you attempt to prod me into ending my self induced suffering?

Please?

Pretty Please?

My latest adventures in self abuse culminated in my acceptance of an invitation to attend the quarterly meeting of the Condo Nazi’s Condominium Board of Directors held late yesterday afternoon.

Let me preface this discussion of my adventures with the following summary:

WHAT A TOTAL %&$#@* WASTE OF TIME.

At the request of the old fart retired pawn shop owner Association President, I spent part of the last two weeks soliciting pricing on metal roofing alternatives to replace the piece of shit, improperly installed, worn out roof twenty year old asphalt shingle roof currently serving as a barrier between my artwork and the next rainstorm.

I also investigated the available alternatives for sealing the expansion joints in the concrete deck surrounding our swimming pool.

I was quite enthused with the options which I had come up with and looked forward to presenting the information to the incompetent group of ancient morons Condo Board.

I knew that I was in trouble when my host didn’t bother to tell the assembled board members that he had demanded my presence asked me to attend the meeting.

Actually, I knew that I was wasting my time when he accosted me in the parking lot and , upon looking at the metal roofing samples I brought with me, he said “let’s not bring that up in the meeting.”

WTF?

I had spent two weeks working on the internet, E-mailing specifications and talking to vendors on the phone long distance (at my expense), and having manufacturers sending me packages of literature and samples of their products, in addition to submitting budget pricing; and now this asshole gentleman announces that “we won’t bring that up in the meeting?”

WHY THE %^$#*& AM I HERE THEN?

I ended up sitting through 75 minutes of mindless babbling about spending thousands of dollars planting Sago Palm Trees, followed by an inane layman’s discussion of attempts to improve drainage and hire a consulting Civil engineer to do a drainage plan.

At the 60 minute mark, one of the drunken sots board members looked at his watch and said “let’s hurry up people…it’s happy hour."

In my experience, this same philandering womanizer gentleman makes this same announcement at every meeting that he doesn’t miss. (I find it impossible to conduct business on a 60 minute time clock, especially when half the time is spent listing to the attendees discuss the health of their spleens or colons and the demise of former residents that moved to assisted living or were recently buried.)

Every single time I attempted to open my mouth I was cut off by the stupid asshole Board President, even when he asked me not once but TWICE if I had any comments.

After the aforementioned 75 minutes had elapsed, I was “excused” from the meeting so that they could conduct some additional clandestine cogitations.

I should have expected nothing less from such a self important group of ignorant ingrates. While I’m sure that each of the board members are wonderful people with friends and families and successful careers in their past, in their capacity as managers of the ongoing health and success of 48 condominium units in a property with a market value of $13 to $15 million dollars, they are effectively “rearranging the furniture on the deck of the Titanic.”

They choose to spend their time worrying about pressure washing sidewalks and planting palm trees while the site rainwater drainage system and the 50,000 square foot area of roofing is on the verge of collapse.

I’ve officially had it up to here (pointing to the top of my ever balding, ever graying head.)

And, having successfully conducted a two year long campaign to update and improve the swimming pool and pool house, the prospects of spending further substantial portions of my time addressing issues that do not directly impact my own life here in our little slice of Paradise are virtually NONEXISTANT.

Yet again I’ve learned the hard lesson that my efforts are worth exactly what I charge for them.

In this case, that would be NOTHING.

Name That Odor Smell Aroma

Strange Goings On…


My regular readers might have noticed that I’ve missed writing a new posting a couple of days over the past week because I was busy or otherwise didn’t have anything to say worth writing. (Some might say that is true every day here on this blog)

This morning I’m in a similar boat—not feeling like ranting about life in general or jumping in on the commentary about President Bush’s speech last night on immigration.

I wanted something lighthearted to talk about, and my reliable old buddies over at the Local6 website, as usual, didn’t let me down.

Take a look at this story about "Play-Doh" perfume:


PAWTUCKET, R.I.—It’s one of the most unique smells around. And now you can wear it.

Hasbro is continuing its celebration of Play-Doh's 50th anniversary by releasing "Eau de Play-Doh," a perfume designed to smell just like the kids' modeling clay.

Spokesman Gary Serby said Play-Doh's smell is one of its most enduring memories, and Hasbro figures smelling the perfume will transport people back to their childhood.

It sells for $19 a bottle.


Play-Doh perfume?

Are they serious?

They actually think this is going to sell because it will “transport people back to their childhood”?

If a woman came up to me smelling like Play-Doh, I’m not sure that I could stop myself from saying something and it might not be the kind of comment that she was expecting.

If this stuff actually sells, I’m going to run out to the patent office with a couple of my own ideas because I don’t want to miss out on this potential gold mine.

Take a look and see if these fragrances will “transport” you anywhere…


Would you buy a cologne or perfume that was named or smelled like:

Mimeograph Fluid (for all of the former teacher’s aides from the 1960’s and 1970’s)

Toe Jam (for those out there with a “foot fetish”)

Jelly Bean

Locker Room

Grass Stain

Grass Stain with Doggie Poo

Model Airplane Glue

Kitty Litter

Windex

Pine Sol

Old Spice (oops…they already make that one)

Old Tennis Shoe (see “Toe Jam” above)

Hush Puppies (the shoes, new used or otherwise)

Hush Puppies (the food)

Sushi (an exotic aroma from the far east…)

“Space Food Sticks” (for all the astronaut wannabe’s)

Fish Bait (see Sushi above)

Old Fashioned Grease and Weasel (don’t ask…)

Public Restroom

Gunpowder (for the NRA members)

Brake Shoe (for the mechanic in the family)

Diesel Fuel

Fried Chicken

Tooth Paste (it might come in a tube rather than a bottle)

Pocket Lint

Doctor’s Office

Halitosis (see Tooth Paste above)

Septic Tank

Trailer Park

Athletic Supporter (for all the rabid college alumni in your family)

Peat Moss (for the gardener in your life…)

Perspiration (a simple, natural aroma)

Spam (it could come in a bottle shaped like the Spam can)

Hey all you married guys, it just hit me that there is an over looked cologne out there that would greatly improve your image.

I’d call it HOUSE WORK.

And finally, for the ladies, I believe that the most successful perfume aroma that is not yet produced and would be absolutely GUARANTEED to attract men, no matter what personality or appearance God gave you, would be…

NEW CAR

Anyone out there got any more suggestions?

I’m listening…

UPDATE:

Here's a couple of other fragrances that I forgot earlier:

Retread (for those women that have gotten remarrried--to their ex-husbands)

Watermellon (it would also contain a green dye...so you'd be green on the outside)

Squash Casserole (children would fear you)

Poison Ivy (for all the Batman fans out there)

Naugahyde (made from the hides of thousands of innocent little Naugas)

Kiddy Pool (You never know what it will smell like)

Sock Drawer (Self Explainitory)

Back In Paradise

We Made It…


I woke up Monday morning with a sense of dread. I just knew that something was going to go wrong, because other than the little tiny detail of forgetting to bring along my razor, the trip had been absolutely perfect.

When I turned on the Weather Channel, I thought that I saw the making of our first real problem. Thunderstorms were lined up covering the entire distance between Savannah and Brunswick.

Not to worry, we just hung around the hotel until about 1:30 PM waiting out the rain to move away as the cold front pushed through.

I’m pleased to report that my theory worked, and by the time we were rolling down the interstate about 2:30 the storms had moved off to the southeast and we were home by a little past 4:00 PM.

All and all it was a great trip. If you've never been to Savannah, Georgia, you really aught to consider it as a short vacation destination.

We'll be back again.

I’m A Blogaholic

Somebody…Please Do An Intervention


How many people do you know that will drive two hours to get to their weekend destination, only to spend the first three hours in a four star hotel worrying about the room not having a functioning high speed internet connection?

Yesterday I did exactly that, and I’m starting to feel a little guilty after the fact.

Well, maybe not…

We took a chance and arrived at the hotel about 11:30 AM, hours before the normal 4 PM check-in time and they promised us a room within a half hour.

Hurray...Hurrah...Hubba Hubba...

After taking a brief cruise around the neighborhood to kill a little time, we returned and were promptly settled into our room on the first floor adjacent to the pool courtyard.

So far, so good—right?

Wrong, because the first thing I did was attempt to connect to the hotel’s wireless internet service. NO SIGNAL.

None.

Zero.

Zilch.

NADA.

Not to worry, I’d just whip out my 20’ CAT 5 cable and plug into the wall jack. The problem was that not only was there a wall jack, but there was something close to fifty feet of blue CAT 5 cable coiled up in a bundle with yet another jack on the end of it laying nearby under the desk.

Certainly there would be a nice fast internet signal on at least one of the two connections.

Wrrroooooonnnnnggggg.

I wiggled the connectors, checked my software settings, and hit the connect button at least twenty times to no avail.

No problem, I just called the hotel “engineering” department.

Yeah…that’s the ticket.

I’m happy to say that if my AC wasn’t cooling or a light bulb wasn’t working I would have been in fat city, but the gentleman that arrived at our room just blinked and grunted and pointed to a phone number that he said that I HAD TO CALL to get service on THE HOTEL’S own internet wiring!

WTF?

So I called the number, and a service tech prompted me through a series of mindless questions like I didn’t know a CAT 5 cable from a garden hose, and once he realized that I knew how to turn the power switch on my computer to the “on” position AND that I was network savvy, he threw up his hands and called the hotel…

Hotel “engineering”, that is.

The same guy came back to the room, crawled around on his hands and knees under the desk for a few minutes, and then he asked if we would like a different room.

Not yes, but HELL YES, was my answer.

Arrangements were made with the front desk, and we wandered down to the waterfront for a late lunch while the bellman moved our luggage between rooms.

I marched back into the building and on to the second floor into our new room with a song in my heart and trepidation in my head.

Within minutes, I was in ecstasy…and here I sit 25 hours later.

I really can do without internet…really I can…IF I WANT TO…

I just don’t want to.

At least not now…