Some People Just Don't Finish The Journey
Take at look at this story about former astronaut Charles Brady committing suicide, then tell me what could have been so bad to justify taking that way out of life?
Medical Doctor, Pilot, Blue Angels, Space Shuttle Astronaut...
What a sad waste of humanity, and what a bitter end to a life otherwise well lived.
Saturday, July 29, 2006
Friday, July 28, 2006
I'm The Slumlord Of Arabia
Houser of the Crackhead Infadels...
Well, I'm happy to report that I found that things were't that bad over in the real world once I managed to drag myself over there yesterday afternoon.
As is usual a few times each year, the side door of my duplex had AGAIN been kicked in and there was evidence of incessant stupidity conducted all the while standing around on a hard tiled concrete floor, but the place really wasn't any worse for the wear.
After a quick trip to Home Depot for a reinforcing plate and a few screws and nuts and bolts, the door was back on it's hinges and locked, a sturdy steel pipe brace was installed between it and the fridge, and the yard was policed of miscellaneous beer bottles and litter.
Sometime in the past few months the house two doors down mostly burned to the ground, and the one next door has been demolished to a pile of sticks and bricks.
I hope that they haul everything off shortly, then I'm going to pursue buying that property to add to my little "slumlord empire." That acquisition would give me six lots, facing each other on opposite sides of the street (three each side) and improve my prospects of actually developing the land with some little starter houses or townhouses at some point.
You can call me a racist or a bigot or whatever you want to, but I have to tell you, I'm really afraid that these silly, uselessnegros blacks African Americans are just going to continue to sink into the pit of poverty no matter how much government money is thrown at them, and no matter how much effort is spent by rednecks people like me that are interested in improving their lot in life.
They just don't get it...that being cool and hip and "a Player" doesn't equate to employment and otherwise marketable skills. Being a pimp might be cool on MTV, but all it really gets you is 12 months in the local slammer and all of the fans of "Pop Culture" can all just kiss my lilly white ass and go to hell in my considered Redneck opinion.
Yesterday, if one twenty year old black man rode past my repair efforts on a bicycle, twenty five did. The neighborhood is filled with and paralyzed by lethargy and ignorance and the next generation of unemployed thugs is being raised by the idle so called "adults" I found around me. (Actually, the reality is that the children are raising the children, because the women are all working while the men sit on their collective asses.)
I hate it for them AND ME, but there is little one single little white man philanthropist/investor can do as long as a few misguided individuals in the community continue to attack and destroy everything around them that isn't armor plated or bolted down.
Yet, being the hardheaded fool that I am, I keep on keeping on, because I'm...
(By the way...the spelling of Infidel, is intentionally misspelled... so don't be sending me comments and ridicule...)
Well, I'm happy to report that I found that things were't that bad over in the real world once I managed to drag myself over there yesterday afternoon.
As is usual a few times each year, the side door of my duplex had AGAIN been kicked in and there was evidence of incessant stupidity conducted all the while standing around on a hard tiled concrete floor, but the place really wasn't any worse for the wear.
After a quick trip to Home Depot for a reinforcing plate and a few screws and nuts and bolts, the door was back on it's hinges and locked, a sturdy steel pipe brace was installed between it and the fridge, and the yard was policed of miscellaneous beer bottles and litter.
Sometime in the past few months the house two doors down mostly burned to the ground, and the one next door has been demolished to a pile of sticks and bricks.
I hope that they haul everything off shortly, then I'm going to pursue buying that property to add to my little "slumlord empire." That acquisition would give me six lots, facing each other on opposite sides of the street (three each side) and improve my prospects of actually developing the land with some little starter houses or townhouses at some point.
You can call me a racist or a bigot or whatever you want to, but I have to tell you, I'm really afraid that these silly, useless
They just don't get it...that being cool and hip and "a Player" doesn't equate to employment and otherwise marketable skills. Being a pimp might be cool on MTV, but all it really gets you is 12 months in the local slammer and all of the fans of "Pop Culture" can all just kiss my lilly white ass and go to hell in my considered Redneck opinion.
Yesterday, if one twenty year old black man rode past my repair efforts on a bicycle, twenty five did. The neighborhood is filled with and paralyzed by lethargy and ignorance and the next generation of unemployed thugs is being raised by the idle so called "adults" I found around me. (Actually, the reality is that the children are raising the children, because the women are all working while the men sit on their collective asses.)
I hate it for them AND ME, but there is little one single little white man philanthropist/investor can do as long as a few misguided individuals in the community continue to attack and destroy everything around them that isn't armor plated or bolted down.
Yet, being the hardheaded fool that I am, I keep on keeping on, because I'm...
(By the way...the spelling of Infidel, is intentionally misspelled... so don't be sending me comments and ridicule...)
Fried Dill Pickles
More Weird Stuff From My Life
Pat and I have become friends with many of our neighbors that have been coming down here to St. simons Island on vacation for most of the past thirty years or so. Many are the children or other relatives of the original owners of the condos we live in, so many people that we end up hanging out with at the pool basically grew up here in the summers and holidays.
We’re only spending our third summer here, but we're fortunate that we’ve been adopted into the “Sea Palms Colony Clan” and now they’re starting to make demands of me and my cooking talents.
I’ve already hosted a couple of what I call my “Drive By, Pool Side BBQ’s” over the past couple of years, and now some of the wives are starting to challenge me with specific recipes and dishes that they like, that they eat in the local restaurants, or that they otherwise enjoy.
Most recently, the topic at the pool has been something called “Fried Dill Pickles.”
Well, you know me and my big mouth…I said that it had to be easy, and when the dust settled I was forced to spend this evening figuring out how to fry a dill pickle—because I’ll be serving them poolside tomorrow afternoon.
It turns out that it really is easy, and after surfing the internet to look at some examples, here’s what I came up with to fry me some dill pickles this evening:
1 egg
½ cup of milk
1 tbsp Crystal hot sauce
½ tbsp Worcestershire Sauce
½ tsp salt
½ tsp white pepper
½ tsp black pepper
½ tbsp flour
1 cup of flour
1 quart of dill pickle wedges
Enough oil (peanut, canola, or Crisco) to make a puddle ¾” deep
First things first…toss your oil into a deep skillet or a shallow boiler and crank up the heat on the stovetop so that you can get somewhere near 350 degrees F. Temperature is your friend here, so use a candy thermometer or whatever other appliance you have to check your oil temperature else you’ll have greasy, floppy, limp dill pickles.
As I understand it, women hate limp pickles…fried or otherwise…but I digress…
Next, beat your egg up real good in a medium mixing bowl, then add the milk and spices and stir it all up.
In a separate bowl, dump in your flour, and add a little salt and pepper if you want to. I actually added a little cayenne pepper just to add a little Emeril style “bam” to the mixture.
Once your oil has heated, dredge your pickle wedges in the flour, then into the egg/milk mixture, then back into the flour, then do it all over again. Build yourself a nice thick coating of batter on the outside of your pickles.
Now toss them into the oil a half dozen at the time, and watch them sizzle away, turning them once or twice until they are golden brown. Lay them in groups on a stack of paper towels on a plate on the side to drain and cool.
Sprinkle a little salt and cayenne pepper over them, maybe make a horseradish sauce or mustard sauce for dipping, and step out of the way of the stampede because THESE THINGS ARE TASTY.
I can hardly wait to put my cooking where my mouth is tomorrow afternoon.
Regards y’all
The Redneck Gourmet
Pat and I have become friends with many of our neighbors that have been coming down here to St. simons Island on vacation for most of the past thirty years or so. Many are the children or other relatives of the original owners of the condos we live in, so many people that we end up hanging out with at the pool basically grew up here in the summers and holidays.
We’re only spending our third summer here, but we're fortunate that we’ve been adopted into the “Sea Palms Colony Clan” and now they’re starting to make demands of me and my cooking talents.
I’ve already hosted a couple of what I call my “Drive By, Pool Side BBQ’s” over the past couple of years, and now some of the wives are starting to challenge me with specific recipes and dishes that they like, that they eat in the local restaurants, or that they otherwise enjoy.
Most recently, the topic at the pool has been something called “Fried Dill Pickles.”
Well, you know me and my big mouth…I said that it had to be easy, and when the dust settled I was forced to spend this evening figuring out how to fry a dill pickle—because I’ll be serving them poolside tomorrow afternoon.
It turns out that it really is easy, and after surfing the internet to look at some examples, here’s what I came up with to fry me some dill pickles this evening:
1 egg
½ cup of milk
1 tbsp Crystal hot sauce
½ tbsp Worcestershire Sauce
½ tsp salt
½ tsp white pepper
½ tsp black pepper
½ tbsp flour
1 cup of flour
1 quart of dill pickle wedges
Enough oil (peanut, canola, or Crisco) to make a puddle ¾” deep
First things first…toss your oil into a deep skillet or a shallow boiler and crank up the heat on the stovetop so that you can get somewhere near 350 degrees F. Temperature is your friend here, so use a candy thermometer or whatever other appliance you have to check your oil temperature else you’ll have greasy, floppy, limp dill pickles.
As I understand it, women hate limp pickles…fried or otherwise…but I digress…
Next, beat your egg up real good in a medium mixing bowl, then add the milk and spices and stir it all up.
In a separate bowl, dump in your flour, and add a little salt and pepper if you want to. I actually added a little cayenne pepper just to add a little Emeril style “bam” to the mixture.
Once your oil has heated, dredge your pickle wedges in the flour, then into the egg/milk mixture, then back into the flour, then do it all over again. Build yourself a nice thick coating of batter on the outside of your pickles.
Now toss them into the oil a half dozen at the time, and watch them sizzle away, turning them once or twice until they are golden brown. Lay them in groups on a stack of paper towels on a plate on the side to drain and cool.
Sprinkle a little salt and cayenne pepper over them, maybe make a horseradish sauce or mustard sauce for dipping, and step out of the way of the stampede because THESE THINGS ARE TASTY.
I can hardly wait to put my cooking where my mouth is tomorrow afternoon.
Regards y’all
The Redneck Gourmet
Thursday, July 27, 2006
I Be A Slumlord
Low Rent Housing
I bought my first house when I was 25 years old. I put a chunk of cash down, and rode out a mortgage at 9.5% for a few years before I sold the house and upgraded to the lovely home that I ended up giving to my ex-wife in our divorce. Never mind that I designed it and had it built to MY specifications, it was her house because that’s the way the law works in Georgia.
Next I bought a “fixer-upper” and, after renting it for a while and watching the owner and the owner’s agent go bankrupt, I got a great deal—two story, brick on all four sides, tongue and groove decking instead of plywood, solid as a rock, and I busted my ass working part time renovating it. New roof, rebuilt soffits and facias, kitchen cabinet doors, new paint inside and out, you know the story.
Then it burned down in 2001.
A total loss of building and 99% of the contents.
All I got out of it was some smoke stained books and files, and a six figure insurance check. I took the money and ran away from Atlanta, Georgia because by that time I’d had it up to here (pointing to the top of my ever graying, ever balding head…)
Since that day I have to admit that the real estate business has been of secondary importance to me, but that I have made a little money investing in vacant land in Florida and most recently I’ve been the proud owner of a duplex and three adjacent vacant lots in downtown Brunswick.
I say proud in a tongue in cheek manner, because where my property lies you wouldn’t want to walk down the street at night with a hundred dollars in your pocket. Heck, I suspect that fifty cents would be enough to get you cut if not killed.
I had to run one of my tenants out of the duplex a couple of summers ago due to non-payment of the rent, and the other one’s, a man in his mid 30’s, mother moved him into the home of a relative (because she was paying his rent) that passed away thereby ending my first stint as a official “slumlord.”
Since I hate having to go around banging on doors to collect rent money, I’ve just let the property sit there and fester unoccupied, and therein lies my problem today.
It seems that for some reason, people like to inspect it and open it up and look inside, without my permission. At least three different times now before this week someone has kicked the side door in and just did a tour.
You know wander around and look at the rooms, comment on the paint colors (or lack thereof), rummage through the empty kitchen cabinets…stuff like that.
What blew my mind was that last fall they broke in and they actually STOLE THE ENTIRE KITCHEN SINK AND CABINET from the right hand unit.
You heard me right…they STOLE MY KITCHEN SINK.
W.T.F?
Well, today I learned that again someone has taken yet another unauthorized tour, and apparently they’ve started hanging out in some manner because Ozzie, my agent, told me that when he stopped by the front door was unlocked and all of the windows were open.
Just Damn….
I didn’t find out until about 4 PM yesterday so I didn’t have the energy to drive over there from the island, but I guess I’ll go over tomorrow, turn on the water, flush whatever the hell is in the toilet down the drain, and try to lock everything back up and fix whatever is broken.
Dammit, but why can’t people just leave other people’s stuff alone?
I just called the police about 3 AM this morning, told them about the situation, and asked them to send an officer by to check out who or whomever might be using the place as a crack house or a crash pad. I figure that if someone is there, that by this late hour they’ve probably got all settled in and if the police will do their job they will have an early, rude awakening.
Can you say charges for possession of drugs?
Can you say charges for solicitation of prostitution?
Can you say charges for weapons possession?
Can you say charges for trespassing?
Can you say arrest for outstanding warrants?
I sure hope so...
Any way, there’s no water, no electricity, no furniture, and the whole place is made of concrete blocks inside and out so they can’t really hurt it, but it was relatively clean the last time I was over there and I’m afraid that they are going to crap it up one way or another so it will cost more to fix when and if I get back into the slumlord business.
I’m thinking about adding an addition onto to the back of it or possibly adding a second story level to it because it is so small and cramped right now, but the neighborhood has a ways to go before any self-respecting families are going to want to move in so I have to watch my level of investment.
The good news is that a builder built a new house about two blocks away, so things are turning around and my idea of building three or four new townhouses across the street might not be so hair brained after all.
Stay tuned to this station for yet another episode of...
“Slum Lord of Arabia…Houser of the Crack Head Infadels…”
Here's my new logo:
I bought my first house when I was 25 years old. I put a chunk of cash down, and rode out a mortgage at 9.5% for a few years before I sold the house and upgraded to the lovely home that I ended up giving to my ex-wife in our divorce. Never mind that I designed it and had it built to MY specifications, it was her house because that’s the way the law works in Georgia.
Next I bought a “fixer-upper” and, after renting it for a while and watching the owner and the owner’s agent go bankrupt, I got a great deal—two story, brick on all four sides, tongue and groove decking instead of plywood, solid as a rock, and I busted my ass working part time renovating it. New roof, rebuilt soffits and facias, kitchen cabinet doors, new paint inside and out, you know the story.
Then it burned down in 2001.
A total loss of building and 99% of the contents.
All I got out of it was some smoke stained books and files, and a six figure insurance check. I took the money and ran away from Atlanta, Georgia because by that time I’d had it up to here (pointing to the top of my ever graying, ever balding head…)
Since that day I have to admit that the real estate business has been of secondary importance to me, but that I have made a little money investing in vacant land in Florida and most recently I’ve been the proud owner of a duplex and three adjacent vacant lots in downtown Brunswick.
I say proud in a tongue in cheek manner, because where my property lies you wouldn’t want to walk down the street at night with a hundred dollars in your pocket. Heck, I suspect that fifty cents would be enough to get you cut if not killed.
I had to run one of my tenants out of the duplex a couple of summers ago due to non-payment of the rent, and the other one’s, a man in his mid 30’s, mother moved him into the home of a relative (because she was paying his rent) that passed away thereby ending my first stint as a official “slumlord.”
Since I hate having to go around banging on doors to collect rent money, I’ve just let the property sit there and fester unoccupied, and therein lies my problem today.
It seems that for some reason, people like to inspect it and open it up and look inside, without my permission. At least three different times now before this week someone has kicked the side door in and just did a tour.
You know wander around and look at the rooms, comment on the paint colors (or lack thereof), rummage through the empty kitchen cabinets…stuff like that.
What blew my mind was that last fall they broke in and they actually STOLE THE ENTIRE KITCHEN SINK AND CABINET from the right hand unit.
You heard me right…they STOLE MY KITCHEN SINK.
W.T.F?
Well, today I learned that again someone has taken yet another unauthorized tour, and apparently they’ve started hanging out in some manner because Ozzie, my agent, told me that when he stopped by the front door was unlocked and all of the windows were open.
Just Damn….
I didn’t find out until about 4 PM yesterday so I didn’t have the energy to drive over there from the island, but I guess I’ll go over tomorrow, turn on the water, flush whatever the hell is in the toilet down the drain, and try to lock everything back up and fix whatever is broken.
Dammit, but why can’t people just leave other people’s stuff alone?
I just called the police about 3 AM this morning, told them about the situation, and asked them to send an officer by to check out who or whomever might be using the place as a crack house or a crash pad. I figure that if someone is there, that by this late hour they’ve probably got all settled in and if the police will do their job they will have an early, rude awakening.
Can you say charges for possession of drugs?
Can you say charges for solicitation of prostitution?
Can you say charges for weapons possession?
Can you say charges for trespassing?
Can you say arrest for outstanding warrants?
I sure hope so...
Any way, there’s no water, no electricity, no furniture, and the whole place is made of concrete blocks inside and out so they can’t really hurt it, but it was relatively clean the last time I was over there and I’m afraid that they are going to crap it up one way or another so it will cost more to fix when and if I get back into the slumlord business.
I’m thinking about adding an addition onto to the back of it or possibly adding a second story level to it because it is so small and cramped right now, but the neighborhood has a ways to go before any self-respecting families are going to want to move in so I have to watch my level of investment.
The good news is that a builder built a new house about two blocks away, so things are turning around and my idea of building three or four new townhouses across the street might not be so hair brained after all.
Stay tuned to this station for yet another episode of...
“Slum Lord of Arabia…Houser of the Crack Head Infadels…”
Here's my new logo:
A Face Made For Radio
That Would Be Me…
Back in high school several of my buddies got jobs as “DJ’s” at the local AM and FM radio stations.
It wasn’t exactly rocket science, and although I suppose that there is a certain glamour associated with the job title, in reality what being a radio DJ amounts to is hours and hours spent sitting beside a bunch of electronic equipment waiting to go pee and go home.
Matt, Mark, and John all spun disks and did voice transitions into station breaks for a little cash, and sometimes we’d go out to the station and hang out with them just for fun.
The hard part then would be getting the aforementioned “DJ” to stop laughing so that he could talk plainly when needed. We made a sort of game of it…Goose the “DJ”…
Any way, I think that John owns one of the old stations today, or at least he is the station manager, while Matt and Mark went on to other careers.
That brings me to my real subject this morning…I’ve just learned that my friend Matt is still in the radio business in a way, broadcasting an internet radio stream over at The Sandbox…QIRT.com.
If you have a high speed internet connection, click on the link and go check Matt’s efforts out. It’s all 1970’s and early 1980’s rock and roll with NO COMMERCIALS. I open a browser window, fire up the music, and let it entertain me while I write and complain about the world.
And that smooth voice which you hear every 15 minutes, that would be Matt.
Stop by and take a listen…if you will…
Back in high school several of my buddies got jobs as “DJ’s” at the local AM and FM radio stations.
It wasn’t exactly rocket science, and although I suppose that there is a certain glamour associated with the job title, in reality what being a radio DJ amounts to is hours and hours spent sitting beside a bunch of electronic equipment waiting to go pee and go home.
Matt, Mark, and John all spun disks and did voice transitions into station breaks for a little cash, and sometimes we’d go out to the station and hang out with them just for fun.
The hard part then would be getting the aforementioned “DJ” to stop laughing so that he could talk plainly when needed. We made a sort of game of it…Goose the “DJ”…
Any way, I think that John owns one of the old stations today, or at least he is the station manager, while Matt and Mark went on to other careers.
That brings me to my real subject this morning…I’ve just learned that my friend Matt is still in the radio business in a way, broadcasting an internet radio stream over at The Sandbox…QIRT.com.
If you have a high speed internet connection, click on the link and go check Matt’s efforts out. It’s all 1970’s and early 1980’s rock and roll with NO COMMERCIALS. I open a browser window, fire up the music, and let it entertain me while I write and complain about the world.
And that smooth voice which you hear every 15 minutes, that would be Matt.
Stop by and take a listen…if you will…
Wednesday, July 26, 2006
Blog Readers Keep Speaking Out
Thanks Patrick!!!
Here's another letter to the editor of the Brunswick News from Today's edition:
Resident lends support to tree sculpture project
I would like to state my dismay at the public and editorial outcry that has arisen from members of Brunswick and the Golden Isles community over the proposed K Street tree sculpture project.
The main complaint seems to be about money, but it was stated in the preliminary planning of the project that the lion's share of the funding for this project would come from private donations and fundraising efforts of volunteers – not the taxpayers.
I would like to encourage the mayor and the city and county commissioners to move forward with the K Street tree sculpture project as planned. As someone who grew up here, I consider the beautification and revitalization of the city of Brunswick of great importance to Glynn County and Coastal Georgia. Please make this project a reality, and bring a world class piece of art to the city of Brunswick for which all can be proud.
Support the K Street tree sculpture project.
Patrick Armstrong
St. Simons Island
I'm still working on the preliminary footing design and architectural issues and I am glad that people are listening to the story.
Here's another letter to the editor of the Brunswick News from Today's edition:
Resident lends support to tree sculpture project
I would like to state my dismay at the public and editorial outcry that has arisen from members of Brunswick and the Golden Isles community over the proposed K Street tree sculpture project.
The main complaint seems to be about money, but it was stated in the preliminary planning of the project that the lion's share of the funding for this project would come from private donations and fundraising efforts of volunteers – not the taxpayers.
I would like to encourage the mayor and the city and county commissioners to move forward with the K Street tree sculpture project as planned. As someone who grew up here, I consider the beautification and revitalization of the city of Brunswick of great importance to Glynn County and Coastal Georgia. Please make this project a reality, and bring a world class piece of art to the city of Brunswick for which all can be proud.
Support the K Street tree sculpture project.
Patrick Armstrong
St. Simons Island
I'm still working on the preliminary footing design and architectural issues and I am glad that people are listening to the story.
Middle Aged Health Issues
You Are What You Eat?
Gosh dang it all Ladies and Gentlemen, but I find myself rapidly sliding down the slippery slope of middle age.
I guess that, like the old saying goes…”another day above ground beats the heck out of the alternative…”
I’m just a few months shy of being Forty Seven Years Old, and I sometimes feel like I’ve already lived to at least One Hundred.
Somebody out there, I forget who, was once quoted as saying “If I knew that I was going to live so long, I would have taken better care of myself…”
I totally agree…
I often look at myself in the mirror and yell at the ever graying, ever balding, dumpy imposter that has wrapped himself around the kid that just a few decades ago could run three miles in eighteen minutes.
Seriously, when I was in my late teens and early twenty’s I could walk out my front door, tighten my shoe laces, stretch my legs, and run away from my dorm room or apartment and not stop until I had put ten or twelve miles behind me.
Unlike the old Rodney Dangerfield joke about running five miles a day each week (hey doctor…I’m 35 miles from home), I’d just turn around and jog back home in time for dinner and a couple of beers with my friends.
Then one day back in 1983 when I was throwing Frisbee at Piedmont Park in Atlanta, I started having pains in my right leg, and the rest is history. I have since found out that I have inherited something called “hyper-coagulate blood,” along with a deluxe set of bad veins in my legs.
My condition is the opposite of being a hemophiliac—instead of tending to bleed to death, my blood try’s its’ best to turn to Jello if I don’t pay attention and take my meds regularly.
So any way, I’ve learned to live with the condition in spite of its attempt to kill me about every five years since the initial occurrence, but it has put a serious dent on my athletic endeavors and physical conditioning.
No more Ultimate Frisbee.
No more long distance running.
No more water skiing.
No more snow skiing.
No more scuba diving.
No more flying airplanes.
I could go on and on, but I also realize that I’ve had the opportunity to do so many things that so many people on the planet never have the cash or opportunity to do even if their bodies will allow it, so I’ll just leave that abbreviated list where it stands—I’m quite grateful for the opportunities which I’ve had thus far in my life.
I’m also quite happy to still be alive and still have two legs and feet attached, because if it was 1906 rather than 2006 I’d either be dead else be a double amputee by now, and wheelchairs have come a long way since then also…thank God.
Even though I’m 6’3” tall, my weight over the past six or seven years has ballooned from about 210 to over 250 pounds and, until the past couple of months, I rarely had the strength and energy to manage to drag myself off of the sofa or out of the pool (floating like a giant walrus) to do anything about it.
I’m proud to report that suddenly, out of the clear blue, my energy level has started steadily increasing and as a result, my weight has started sliding back toward the inventory of clothing that I’ve maintained in the back of the closet for the past few years.
Not one, but about three inches in the waist so far. We don’t own scales at our house because of the negative karma associated with “evil instruments of our industrial empire”, but I would have to say at least 20 pounds have disappeared over the past couple of months.
I guar an dam tee you that I’m not taking this all for granted either.
I’ve started swimming laps in the pool each night. Tonight it was five round trips without stopping.
I thought that I was going to die.
My formerly strong legs are so weak now, but I got through it, and a workout in the water is much less stressful than even walking long distances and it involves more muscle groups.
I’ve also always been a little top heavy because I have a large chest, but my arms have atrophied to the point where they look like a couple of twigs coming off of the trunk of a tree stump or something (maybe I can model for my K-street Tree Project).
So any way, I’m afraid that my cooking exercises over at The Redneck Gourmet are going to have to change a bit because my girlfriend Pat’s blood pressure is through the roof and I want to continue to keep my own weight loss and health improvements moving forward.
To that end, I’m looking at further improving the quality of our home cooking and dining adventures, without substituting packaged crap like cheese food products, tofu, and partially hydrogenated blaa blaa blaa products.
Dang it…I like to eat Brown chicken eggs…
Heck…I like to eat brown chickens, if you take the feathers and feet off of them first.
Give me another month or two, and I’ll get my pony tail trimmed a little, toss on some 36 waist jeans and my ostrich skinned cowboy boots, and show all of my female readers a picture of what the Redneck Gourmet really looks like.
Stay tuned to this channel for further developments...
Gosh dang it all Ladies and Gentlemen, but I find myself rapidly sliding down the slippery slope of middle age.
I guess that, like the old saying goes…”another day above ground beats the heck out of the alternative…”
I’m just a few months shy of being Forty Seven Years Old, and I sometimes feel like I’ve already lived to at least One Hundred.
Somebody out there, I forget who, was once quoted as saying “If I knew that I was going to live so long, I would have taken better care of myself…”
I totally agree…
I often look at myself in the mirror and yell at the ever graying, ever balding, dumpy imposter that has wrapped himself around the kid that just a few decades ago could run three miles in eighteen minutes.
Seriously, when I was in my late teens and early twenty’s I could walk out my front door, tighten my shoe laces, stretch my legs, and run away from my dorm room or apartment and not stop until I had put ten or twelve miles behind me.
Unlike the old Rodney Dangerfield joke about running five miles a day each week (hey doctor…I’m 35 miles from home), I’d just turn around and jog back home in time for dinner and a couple of beers with my friends.
Then one day back in 1983 when I was throwing Frisbee at Piedmont Park in Atlanta, I started having pains in my right leg, and the rest is history. I have since found out that I have inherited something called “hyper-coagulate blood,” along with a deluxe set of bad veins in my legs.
My condition is the opposite of being a hemophiliac—instead of tending to bleed to death, my blood try’s its’ best to turn to Jello if I don’t pay attention and take my meds regularly.
So any way, I’ve learned to live with the condition in spite of its attempt to kill me about every five years since the initial occurrence, but it has put a serious dent on my athletic endeavors and physical conditioning.
No more Ultimate Frisbee.
No more long distance running.
No more water skiing.
No more snow skiing.
No more scuba diving.
No more flying airplanes.
I could go on and on, but I also realize that I’ve had the opportunity to do so many things that so many people on the planet never have the cash or opportunity to do even if their bodies will allow it, so I’ll just leave that abbreviated list where it stands—I’m quite grateful for the opportunities which I’ve had thus far in my life.
I’m also quite happy to still be alive and still have two legs and feet attached, because if it was 1906 rather than 2006 I’d either be dead else be a double amputee by now, and wheelchairs have come a long way since then also…thank God.
Even though I’m 6’3” tall, my weight over the past six or seven years has ballooned from about 210 to over 250 pounds and, until the past couple of months, I rarely had the strength and energy to manage to drag myself off of the sofa or out of the pool (floating like a giant walrus) to do anything about it.
I’m proud to report that suddenly, out of the clear blue, my energy level has started steadily increasing and as a result, my weight has started sliding back toward the inventory of clothing that I’ve maintained in the back of the closet for the past few years.
Not one, but about three inches in the waist so far. We don’t own scales at our house because of the negative karma associated with “evil instruments of our industrial empire”, but I would have to say at least 20 pounds have disappeared over the past couple of months.
I guar an dam tee you that I’m not taking this all for granted either.
I’ve started swimming laps in the pool each night. Tonight it was five round trips without stopping.
I thought that I was going to die.
My formerly strong legs are so weak now, but I got through it, and a workout in the water is much less stressful than even walking long distances and it involves more muscle groups.
I’ve also always been a little top heavy because I have a large chest, but my arms have atrophied to the point where they look like a couple of twigs coming off of the trunk of a tree stump or something (maybe I can model for my K-street Tree Project).
So any way, I’m afraid that my cooking exercises over at The Redneck Gourmet are going to have to change a bit because my girlfriend Pat’s blood pressure is through the roof and I want to continue to keep my own weight loss and health improvements moving forward.
To that end, I’m looking at further improving the quality of our home cooking and dining adventures, without substituting packaged crap like cheese food products, tofu, and partially hydrogenated blaa blaa blaa products.
Dang it…I like to eat Brown chicken eggs…
Heck…I like to eat brown chickens, if you take the feathers and feet off of them first.
Give me another month or two, and I’ll get my pony tail trimmed a little, toss on some 36 waist jeans and my ostrich skinned cowboy boots, and show all of my female readers a picture of what the Redneck Gourmet really looks like.
Stay tuned to this channel for further developments...
Tuesday, July 25, 2006
Hog Frog Callin’
Somebody…Anybody…call PETA
I have to admit that I do some pretty strange stuff every now and then, but people that know me in person already know that. I guess that I’m finally prepared to admit it here on the blog this morning.
Take animals, for instance.
I like to mess with their minds because, quite simply, it is so much fun.
Mental torture that leaves no scars, so to speak...and all of you perverts out there can go ahead and get your own minds out of the gutter because this is an intellectual discussion…keep your personal passions to yourself, if you will.
As I’ve mentioned before, I grew up back in the day when my grandfather still had a functioning single family farm—300 plus acres—down in lower Alabama.
Smoke house, corn crib, chicken yard, hay barn, cane mill, pecan orchard, functioning windmill, and all of the accoutrements, situated on a one and one half mile long dirt road that ran through the property with NO Neighbors.
A young southern boy’s ultimate playground, if I do say so myself.
I sincerely hate it that most kids today will never experience the freedom of spending summers running around on foot, BB gun in hand, all day long with dogs and chickens and cows and pigs and God knows what else wild game, and never being able to leave the family property because of the expanse of land we owned around us.
All that you needed to know was where the boss rooster was and which pasture the Bull was in, and everything else was a piece of cake as long as you watched out and didn’t “get on a rattlesnake” and stayed out of the beds of poison ivy.
In the ensuing years my time on the farm has been limited mostly to short visits with my mother and to help maintain our share of the homestead dating from the 1820’s, but I learned lessons in those early days about how to enjoy animals without having to actually kill, skin, gut and eat them that serve me well—even here on our little island.
The first lesson is that of silence, and listening.
Let the animals tell you of their presence by the sounds that they make. If you just go stumbling and clomping around everywhere with your I-pod and cell phone shoved in your ear, all you’ll end up doing is scraping bird poo off of your windshield while never seeing the culprit.
The next lesson learned in the woods when stalking animals (with camera or a gun) is to understand their behavior and learn how to make them come to you.
Now I’m not one to like to douse my ankles with “doe in heat” urine and crap like that, but I’ve learned to make certain noises that will make animals react to my presence by “answering” noises that I intentionally make.
The hunters out there know what I mean.
For instance, a big stud gobbler turkey will do what is called a “shock call” when he hears an unexpected noise in his territory. Things as simple as slamming the door of a pickup truck can sometimes elicit this response.
I’ve never actually bagged a wild turkey, but it is the only animal on the planet (other than a robber or burglar threatening my life or that of those around me) that I’m still interested in actually killing, so I’ve perfected my own vocal owl call and I can use what’s called a “box call” pretty well to imitate a pretty little turkey hen chirping.
I just may do a wild turkey hunt down here on Cumberland Island in the next couple of years, but don't worry...because the turkey will most definitely be EATEN by me rather than dieing of old age or starving because the wild boars ate all the acorns that year.
The funny thing is that I never expected is to use the Turkey box call technique to actually call frogs.
Tree Frogs, that is.
OK...Now you REALLY think that I’m weird…RIGHT?
Seriously, during my evening expeditions to our swimming pool, I’ve taken to imitating the tree frogs' natural calls and mating squeeks by rubbing my wet thumb on a “pool noodle”—you know…those long, hollow, colored tubes made of foam rubber that are supposed to be used as a float.
If you'll stay really still, once you get the position on the “pool noodle” right, you can imitate the calls of the local stud male frogs.
I can actually make three or four little green amphibians come hopping up near me in a half hour.
The boys are angry and defensive of their prospective territory, and the girls are…well, shall we say…interested.
I caused quite a stir out there this morning as the sun was rising.
Please excuse me now, but I have to go smoke a cigarette.
I have to admit that I do some pretty strange stuff every now and then, but people that know me in person already know that. I guess that I’m finally prepared to admit it here on the blog this morning.
Take animals, for instance.
I like to mess with their minds because, quite simply, it is so much fun.
Mental torture that leaves no scars, so to speak...and all of you perverts out there can go ahead and get your own minds out of the gutter because this is an intellectual discussion…keep your personal passions to yourself, if you will.
As I’ve mentioned before, I grew up back in the day when my grandfather still had a functioning single family farm—300 plus acres—down in lower Alabama.
Smoke house, corn crib, chicken yard, hay barn, cane mill, pecan orchard, functioning windmill, and all of the accoutrements, situated on a one and one half mile long dirt road that ran through the property with NO Neighbors.
A young southern boy’s ultimate playground, if I do say so myself.
I sincerely hate it that most kids today will never experience the freedom of spending summers running around on foot, BB gun in hand, all day long with dogs and chickens and cows and pigs and God knows what else wild game, and never being able to leave the family property because of the expanse of land we owned around us.
All that you needed to know was where the boss rooster was and which pasture the Bull was in, and everything else was a piece of cake as long as you watched out and didn’t “get on a rattlesnake” and stayed out of the beds of poison ivy.
In the ensuing years my time on the farm has been limited mostly to short visits with my mother and to help maintain our share of the homestead dating from the 1820’s, but I learned lessons in those early days about how to enjoy animals without having to actually kill, skin, gut and eat them that serve me well—even here on our little island.
The first lesson is that of silence, and listening.
Let the animals tell you of their presence by the sounds that they make. If you just go stumbling and clomping around everywhere with your I-pod and cell phone shoved in your ear, all you’ll end up doing is scraping bird poo off of your windshield while never seeing the culprit.
The next lesson learned in the woods when stalking animals (with camera or a gun) is to understand their behavior and learn how to make them come to you.
Now I’m not one to like to douse my ankles with “doe in heat” urine and crap like that, but I’ve learned to make certain noises that will make animals react to my presence by “answering” noises that I intentionally make.
The hunters out there know what I mean.
For instance, a big stud gobbler turkey will do what is called a “shock call” when he hears an unexpected noise in his territory. Things as simple as slamming the door of a pickup truck can sometimes elicit this response.
I’ve never actually bagged a wild turkey, but it is the only animal on the planet (other than a robber or burglar threatening my life or that of those around me) that I’m still interested in actually killing, so I’ve perfected my own vocal owl call and I can use what’s called a “box call” pretty well to imitate a pretty little turkey hen chirping.
I just may do a wild turkey hunt down here on Cumberland Island in the next couple of years, but don't worry...because the turkey will most definitely be EATEN by me rather than dieing of old age or starving because the wild boars ate all the acorns that year.
The funny thing is that I never expected is to use the Turkey box call technique to actually call frogs.
Tree Frogs, that is.
OK...Now you REALLY think that I’m weird…RIGHT?
Seriously, during my evening expeditions to our swimming pool, I’ve taken to imitating the tree frogs' natural calls and mating squeeks by rubbing my wet thumb on a “pool noodle”—you know…those long, hollow, colored tubes made of foam rubber that are supposed to be used as a float.
If you'll stay really still, once you get the position on the “pool noodle” right, you can imitate the calls of the local stud male frogs.
I can actually make three or four little green amphibians come hopping up near me in a half hour.
The boys are angry and defensive of their prospective territory, and the girls are…well, shall we say…interested.
I caused quite a stir out there this morning as the sun was rising.
Please excuse me now, but I have to go smoke a cigarette.
My Take On Lebanon
I’m a MVD Weapon
To date I’ve avoided commenting on the latest goings on in the Middle East because I was too busy deconstructing the ineptitude of our local newspaper and feeling sorry for myself for ever thinking about working for said newspaper.
I also try to not talk or write about things which I know nothing about, else risk producing redundant commentary that you can find anywhere in the lamestream drive-by media or in other blogs on the internet.
Fortunately (or unfortunately) for you, I’ve spent enough time reading about and watching CNN and Fox news to have a decent take on things, so now you get to hear my own opinion on what has happened to date, and my predictions on where things are going (or should be going.)
I’m going to address this situation with a simple analogy. Think about it this way…
Suppose that I and a bunch of other Methodist descendants of Veterans that fought for the south in the US Civil War got together and formed a group. We formed our group because we only wanted to associate with like minded people of similar descent, but mostly just because…
WE WERN”T HAPPY.
Being Methodist Veteran Descendants, and since the media and the government loves acronyms, they’d probably start calling us MVD’s.
The first thing we’d so is that we’d all get together and secretly infiltrate a secure area where we could hold our meetings and from which we could conduct our operations…somewhere like where I live—St. Simons Island Georgia.
St. Simons is a perfect location for our operations because it really is an island, it only has one road connecting it to the mainland, it has a marina on the Intercoastal Waterway, an old navy airport with two runways, a lighthouse for navigation, and a killer Harris Teeter grocery store with buy-one-get-one-free boneless chicken breasts on sale about 90 days out of the year.
We’d have meetings and drink good Bourbon Whiskey and walk around laughing at bus loads of old Yankee men wearing black socks and sandals. We’d go fishing and dip snuff and generally confuse everyone into thinking that we were just retirees or on vacation like everyone else, but then…
On Tuesday after the Labor Day holiday, after all the families with kids had gone back home and before the winter hoards of Canadians and (smile when you say that) "New Englanders" have arrived, we make our move.
At 4:30 AM on the chosen day we’d close the Torras Causeway in both directions, keeping all of the Mexican maids, construction crews and day laborers on the mainland, and bringing the infrastructure of St. Simons Island to a virtual standstill.
We’d take over the house of our local talk radio show host, and do our own broadcast from his home studio with propaganda announcements.
“After 12:00PM—No one in, and no one but us out, with a 24 hour curfew enforced by the MVD brigade.”
“Everyone that isn’t with us is against us, so get out, unless you are one of the aforementioned Yankees.”
We’d check car tags and ID’s on the bridge going off the island, and if you were from NY or Canada or worst of all—New Jersey—you were a “guest” of the MVD’s until further notice.
The final test for any suspicious individuals would involve having to say “y’all” correctly, and the really sneaky females might have to cook some grits. The men in that category would be served a bowl of grits and if they tried to eat them plain without a big gob of butter and salt or put sugar on them they would be arrested on sight.
Having gained control of our island, now suppose that all of us MVD’s suddenly started lobbing home made explosives across the state line into Florida; aiming specifically at Jewish, Catholic, Mormon and Jehovah’s Witness churches and neighborhoods in Jacksonville. (I’m not sure exactly how many people of those religions exist in Jacksonville, Florida, but bear with me here…I’m trying to write humor…)
Just for good measure, suppose that a group of us MVD’s decided to go out on I-75, I-85, and I-95 and start capturing Yankees heading on vacation down to Miami and Panama City (or anyone else unfortunate enough to be driving a car with a tag from a state north of the Mason Dixon line), holding them hostage, and forcing them to endlessly watch reruns of the Jeff Foxworthy Show and The Dukes of Hazard.
Our reasoning for such acts?
Why isn’t it obvious?
Religious and cultural differences.
That, and we’re pissed off that Alabama doesn’t have a pro football or basketball franchise and we have to take our shotguns and deer rifles out of our pickup truck gun racks if we ever were unfortunate enough to try to drive through New York on our way to Connecticut on vacation.
Then there is that little issue regarding our desire to reclaim the state of Florida from the carpetbaggers and other invaders that have arrived over the past 140 years since that famous Yankee, General William Tecumseh Sherman, marched through Georgia from Chattanooga to Savannah, raping and pillaging and burning virtually everything in his path.
(Imagine CNN and the NY Times covering that little trip today.)
By the way, wasn’t Sherman a Presbyterian? But I digress…
How long do you think that it would take for the Imperial Federal Government of the By-God United States of America to come down here and start lobbing tear gas and “flash bang” grenades into our individual houses and onto our little communal compound that we’d built out here on St. Simons Island Georgia.
How long do you think that it would take for Georgia to call out the National Guard against our collective Redneck MVD butts?
Five Minutes?
Twenty four hours?
There’d be hell to pay, wouldn’t there?
There’d be a bombed airport, a broken bridge, and dead MVD’s all over the place. All the time the Yankees would still be scrambling around, parking illegally on the curb and in handicapped spots at Harris Teeter, looking for black socks, the cheep chicken, and Brie Cheese specials, so they’d be suffering collateral damage at massive rates.
By the way, what happens when you cross a MVD with a SUV?
“Four Wheeling“
NOW…
Remember David Koresh and the Branch Davidians out in Waco Texas?
Remember the ATF, under order of President Bill Clinton and then Attorney General Janet Reno, placing the Branch Davidian compound under a 51 day long siege and in the end, killing eighty people, including seventeen children under the age of 12?
In the ensuing assault, while trying to arrest one man—David Koresh—THE WOODEN COMPOUND BURNED TO THE GROUND.
All of that death and destruction in TEXAS, dammit.
Not Syria or Cuba or Nigeria or Russia...I said T-E-X-A-S.
I think that President Bush was the governor at the time (I'm too lazy to Google the fact), but who ever was governor...had to be losing his mind.
Where was the NY Times on that little "police action"?
Where was CNN on that "unfortunate case of collateral damage"?
Where was the UN and where were all the "talking heads" and the stupid assed "pundits" and human rights "activists" while Miss Reno's giant adams apple bobbed up in down in press conferences?
Yeah, I know, I know...they (The Branch Davidians) were a "cult" and they were "white people" living in the state of Texas and all, but what if had been Sammy Davis Jr. and a building full of black Jews in Kew Gardens, NY?
What if it had been a bunch of Transvestite organic Avacado farmers wearing crotchless overalls (from the Frederics of Hooterville collection) outside San Francisco, California holding the local Goose liver Pate and Veal farmers hostage?
Where would the NY Times and CNN and the government have been then?
You see, it is my opinion that one (wo)man's "Excessive force" isn't always real excessive force.
Like I like to say...don't take a knife to a gun fight...
In light of those type of domestic government actions, regardless of whether there is a "D" or a "R" behind the name of the president and the other officials, I say that condemnation of Israel and the US support thereof pales in comparison to other things happening in the world.
Fact: Israel wouldn't be where they are today if the elected Lebanese government had "called out the national guard" and used their own police power against the Hezbollah terrorists.
Fact: Israel wouldn't be bombing the shit out of southern Lebanon if the feckless United Nations had enforced their own resolutions.
Fact: The US has since 1947 supplied Israel with financial support and sold them weapons systems to support their own self defense.
So what's the big damn doodling deal today?
Yeah...I thought so...there isn't really one, and I hope that Israel kicks the shit out of them until some real closure on this issue is obtained...screw the collateral damage and the liberal media hand wringing.
As I've said so many times before here on this blog:
WAR INVOLVES BREAKING THINGS AND KILLING PEOPLE!!!
What is there to not understand?
Moving along, now let me get my final MVD political statement in here and say that, just in case you haven’t noticed, if we here in the United States were of like mind to the liberal's beloved peaceful muslim arabs, we'd really be setting up a MVD camp out here on our little island.
There would be other people setting up camps in other places, and by "other people" I don't mean ignoramuses like the KKK and the "skinheads." I mean smart, educated people like my friend Tripp and I, people that you don't want to be building things and aiming things at your head and your house and your car.
But we aren't, because we're happy just living out our lives in what has to be, in spite of what the media says, the greatest country that has ever existed.
That, and Tripp and I know that the south really did “Rise Again.”
Some of our fellow southerners and most of you Yankees just don't know it or haven't realized it yet.
Why do I say that?
Because there is hardly a Yankee out there that doesn’t lust after the opportunity of retiring here in the south, and in the end, when it’s all said and done, we’ve all ended up winning the old battle that some people here in the US still refuse to stop fighting.
We all generally get along.
I can call you a Yankee if you live up north, but I really don't hate you.
And you’re welcome to call me a “Redneck”, as long as you smile when you say it, and allow me to celebrate the glorious southern heritage of which I am so proud.
Unfortunately, the middle east isn’t that way, and probably will never be as we have it here, at least without constant military and political pressure.
Instead of 230 years of existence and of 140 years of reconciliation, the middle east has endured thousands of years of hatred and division and roughly 60 years of non-imperialistic existence. The area was divided up after WWI and WWII with little or no regard to the current ethnic divisions with which we are all so aware of today (thank you France and Great Britain.)
Anyone ever heard of a Suni or Shite or Kurd, unless you were getting your PHD in "Middle Eastern Studies", before 1990 or possibly the 1979 Iranian Revolution?
Not me...
Finally, in closing, I have to ask you, would you really want the US to take the pre WWII Neville Chamberlain approach, or wouldn't you rather see the Winston Churchill approach?
I choose the latter, rather than the former, and that's what I think that president Bush is doing.
AND I KNOW THAT I'M RIGGGGGGHHHHHTTT...
Because I own this blog. If you don't agree, then go away...dang it
To date I’ve avoided commenting on the latest goings on in the Middle East because I was too busy deconstructing the ineptitude of our local newspaper and feeling sorry for myself for ever thinking about working for said newspaper.
I also try to not talk or write about things which I know nothing about, else risk producing redundant commentary that you can find anywhere in the lamestream drive-by media or in other blogs on the internet.
Fortunately (or unfortunately) for you, I’ve spent enough time reading about and watching CNN and Fox news to have a decent take on things, so now you get to hear my own opinion on what has happened to date, and my predictions on where things are going (or should be going.)
I’m going to address this situation with a simple analogy. Think about it this way…
Suppose that I and a bunch of other Methodist descendants of Veterans that fought for the south in the US Civil War got together and formed a group. We formed our group because we only wanted to associate with like minded people of similar descent, but mostly just because…
WE WERN”T HAPPY.
Being Methodist Veteran Descendants, and since the media and the government loves acronyms, they’d probably start calling us MVD’s.
The first thing we’d so is that we’d all get together and secretly infiltrate a secure area where we could hold our meetings and from which we could conduct our operations…somewhere like where I live—St. Simons Island Georgia.
St. Simons is a perfect location for our operations because it really is an island, it only has one road connecting it to the mainland, it has a marina on the Intercoastal Waterway, an old navy airport with two runways, a lighthouse for navigation, and a killer Harris Teeter grocery store with buy-one-get-one-free boneless chicken breasts on sale about 90 days out of the year.
We’d have meetings and drink good Bourbon Whiskey and walk around laughing at bus loads of old Yankee men wearing black socks and sandals. We’d go fishing and dip snuff and generally confuse everyone into thinking that we were just retirees or on vacation like everyone else, but then…
On Tuesday after the Labor Day holiday, after all the families with kids had gone back home and before the winter hoards of Canadians and (smile when you say that) "New Englanders" have arrived, we make our move.
At 4:30 AM on the chosen day we’d close the Torras Causeway in both directions, keeping all of the Mexican maids, construction crews and day laborers on the mainland, and bringing the infrastructure of St. Simons Island to a virtual standstill.
We’d take over the house of our local talk radio show host, and do our own broadcast from his home studio with propaganda announcements.
“After 12:00PM—No one in, and no one but us out, with a 24 hour curfew enforced by the MVD brigade.”
“Everyone that isn’t with us is against us, so get out, unless you are one of the aforementioned Yankees.”
We’d check car tags and ID’s on the bridge going off the island, and if you were from NY or Canada or worst of all—New Jersey—you were a “guest” of the MVD’s until further notice.
The final test for any suspicious individuals would involve having to say “y’all” correctly, and the really sneaky females might have to cook some grits. The men in that category would be served a bowl of grits and if they tried to eat them plain without a big gob of butter and salt or put sugar on them they would be arrested on sight.
Having gained control of our island, now suppose that all of us MVD’s suddenly started lobbing home made explosives across the state line into Florida; aiming specifically at Jewish, Catholic, Mormon and Jehovah’s Witness churches and neighborhoods in Jacksonville. (I’m not sure exactly how many people of those religions exist in Jacksonville, Florida, but bear with me here…I’m trying to write humor…)
Just for good measure, suppose that a group of us MVD’s decided to go out on I-75, I-85, and I-95 and start capturing Yankees heading on vacation down to Miami and Panama City (or anyone else unfortunate enough to be driving a car with a tag from a state north of the Mason Dixon line), holding them hostage, and forcing them to endlessly watch reruns of the Jeff Foxworthy Show and The Dukes of Hazard.
Our reasoning for such acts?
Why isn’t it obvious?
Religious and cultural differences.
That, and we’re pissed off that Alabama doesn’t have a pro football or basketball franchise and we have to take our shotguns and deer rifles out of our pickup truck gun racks if we ever were unfortunate enough to try to drive through New York on our way to Connecticut on vacation.
Then there is that little issue regarding our desire to reclaim the state of Florida from the carpetbaggers and other invaders that have arrived over the past 140 years since that famous Yankee, General William Tecumseh Sherman, marched through Georgia from Chattanooga to Savannah, raping and pillaging and burning virtually everything in his path.
(Imagine CNN and the NY Times covering that little trip today.)
By the way, wasn’t Sherman a Presbyterian? But I digress…
How long do you think that it would take for the Imperial Federal Government of the By-God United States of America to come down here and start lobbing tear gas and “flash bang” grenades into our individual houses and onto our little communal compound that we’d built out here on St. Simons Island Georgia.
How long do you think that it would take for Georgia to call out the National Guard against our collective Redneck MVD butts?
Five Minutes?
Twenty four hours?
There’d be hell to pay, wouldn’t there?
There’d be a bombed airport, a broken bridge, and dead MVD’s all over the place. All the time the Yankees would still be scrambling around, parking illegally on the curb and in handicapped spots at Harris Teeter, looking for black socks, the cheep chicken, and Brie Cheese specials, so they’d be suffering collateral damage at massive rates.
By the way, what happens when you cross a MVD with a SUV?
“Four Wheeling“
NOW…
Remember David Koresh and the Branch Davidians out in Waco Texas?
Remember the ATF, under order of President Bill Clinton and then Attorney General Janet Reno, placing the Branch Davidian compound under a 51 day long siege and in the end, killing eighty people, including seventeen children under the age of 12?
In the ensuing assault, while trying to arrest one man—David Koresh—THE WOODEN COMPOUND BURNED TO THE GROUND.
All of that death and destruction in TEXAS, dammit.
Not Syria or Cuba or Nigeria or Russia...I said T-E-X-A-S.
I think that President Bush was the governor at the time (I'm too lazy to Google the fact), but who ever was governor...had to be losing his mind.
Where was the NY Times on that little "police action"?
Where was CNN on that "unfortunate case of collateral damage"?
Where was the UN and where were all the "talking heads" and the stupid assed "pundits" and human rights "activists" while Miss Reno's giant adams apple bobbed up in down in press conferences?
Yeah, I know, I know...they (The Branch Davidians) were a "cult" and they were "white people" living in the state of Texas and all, but what if had been Sammy Davis Jr. and a building full of black Jews in Kew Gardens, NY?
What if it had been a bunch of Transvestite organic Avacado farmers wearing crotchless overalls (from the Frederics of Hooterville collection) outside San Francisco, California holding the local Goose liver Pate and Veal farmers hostage?
Where would the NY Times and CNN and the government have been then?
You see, it is my opinion that one (wo)man's "Excessive force" isn't always real excessive force.
Like I like to say...don't take a knife to a gun fight...
In light of those type of domestic government actions, regardless of whether there is a "D" or a "R" behind the name of the president and the other officials, I say that condemnation of Israel and the US support thereof pales in comparison to other things happening in the world.
Fact: Israel wouldn't be where they are today if the elected Lebanese government had "called out the national guard" and used their own police power against the Hezbollah terrorists.
Fact: Israel wouldn't be bombing the shit out of southern Lebanon if the feckless United Nations had enforced their own resolutions.
Fact: The US has since 1947 supplied Israel with financial support and sold them weapons systems to support their own self defense.
So what's the big damn doodling deal today?
Yeah...I thought so...there isn't really one, and I hope that Israel kicks the shit out of them until some real closure on this issue is obtained...screw the collateral damage and the liberal media hand wringing.
As I've said so many times before here on this blog:
WAR INVOLVES BREAKING THINGS AND KILLING PEOPLE!!!
What is there to not understand?
Moving along, now let me get my final MVD political statement in here and say that, just in case you haven’t noticed, if we here in the United States were of like mind to the liberal's beloved peaceful muslim arabs, we'd really be setting up a MVD camp out here on our little island.
There would be other people setting up camps in other places, and by "other people" I don't mean ignoramuses like the KKK and the "skinheads." I mean smart, educated people like my friend Tripp and I, people that you don't want to be building things and aiming things at your head and your house and your car.
But we aren't, because we're happy just living out our lives in what has to be, in spite of what the media says, the greatest country that has ever existed.
That, and Tripp and I know that the south really did “Rise Again.”
Some of our fellow southerners and most of you Yankees just don't know it or haven't realized it yet.
Why do I say that?
Because there is hardly a Yankee out there that doesn’t lust after the opportunity of retiring here in the south, and in the end, when it’s all said and done, we’ve all ended up winning the old battle that some people here in the US still refuse to stop fighting.
We all generally get along.
I can call you a Yankee if you live up north, but I really don't hate you.
And you’re welcome to call me a “Redneck”, as long as you smile when you say it, and allow me to celebrate the glorious southern heritage of which I am so proud.
Unfortunately, the middle east isn’t that way, and probably will never be as we have it here, at least without constant military and political pressure.
Instead of 230 years of existence and of 140 years of reconciliation, the middle east has endured thousands of years of hatred and division and roughly 60 years of non-imperialistic existence. The area was divided up after WWI and WWII with little or no regard to the current ethnic divisions with which we are all so aware of today (thank you France and Great Britain.)
Anyone ever heard of a Suni or Shite or Kurd, unless you were getting your PHD in "Middle Eastern Studies", before 1990 or possibly the 1979 Iranian Revolution?
Not me...
Finally, in closing, I have to ask you, would you really want the US to take the pre WWII Neville Chamberlain approach, or wouldn't you rather see the Winston Churchill approach?
I choose the latter, rather than the former, and that's what I think that president Bush is doing.
AND I KNOW THAT I'M RIGGGGGGHHHHHTTT...
Because I own this blog. If you don't agree, then go away...dang it
Sunday, July 23, 2006
If You Can’t Join ‘Em….Beat ‘Em
Doing Tings Bass Ackwards…
I friend of mine agreed tonight with my latest idea to politely take our “K-Street Tree Project” to the other “alternative” news publication here in town, and then toss it down to the Jacksonville, Florida paper that does a section dedicated to south Georgia.
Since I haven’t signed any agreements, the Mayor and the city didn’t ask me or otherwise tell me about opening their so-called “PR Campaign (cam-pain in the Arse)”, and since the Brunswick News insists on ignoring mention of my personal origination, participation, and any otherwise valid information that I have to offer on the subject, I feel that it is quite reasonable to answer any and all other news inquires—even if I instigate them.
This could be quite interesting…so stay tuned.
(I really really really promise to give this topic a rest shortly)
I friend of mine agreed tonight with my latest idea to politely take our “K-Street Tree Project” to the other “alternative” news publication here in town, and then toss it down to the Jacksonville, Florida paper that does a section dedicated to south Georgia.
Since I haven’t signed any agreements, the Mayor and the city didn’t ask me or otherwise tell me about opening their so-called “PR Campaign (cam-pain in the Arse)”, and since the Brunswick News insists on ignoring mention of my personal origination, participation, and any otherwise valid information that I have to offer on the subject, I feel that it is quite reasonable to answer any and all other news inquires—even if I instigate them.
This could be quite interesting…so stay tuned.
(I really really really promise to give this topic a rest shortly)
Saturday, July 22, 2006
Partial Success
They're Getting Warmer
We'll, just to keep torturing myself, I bought a copy of today's newspaper on my way home from dinner. You can imagine my surprise when, on the top of page two, they published this article:
City's tree plan just a sprout
Fri, Jul 21, 2006By KEITH LAING
The Brunswick News
The city of Brunswick wants someone else to pick up the bill for resurrecting one of its fallen oak trees.
Mayor Bryan Thompson said the city will seek assistance from several sources to raise the $35,000 it is expected to cost to have a professional sculptor carve a fully grown tree felled during the K Street sewer repair project into a community landmark celebrating the lives of prominent Georgians.
If the proposal comes to fruition, the 180,000-pound tree, which had once shaded K Street between Martin Luther King Jr. Boulevard and Amherst Street, would be transformed into a piece of artwork commemorating Georgia founder James Oglethorpe, civil rights leader Martin Luther King Jr. and poet Sidney Lanier.
"There could be a variety of sources, such as the area arts organization and private sector donations," Thompson said.
He added while the city has selected Pennslyvania-based artist Joe King to create the sculpture, it has not arranged to finance the project.
"It was never our intention that the city was going to drop $35,000 on this," he said.
"We were talking to this guy to get a ballpark range of what something like this would require in terms of cash" We are fully planning on seeing what kinds of partnerships might be formed throughout the community to help pull this together."
Thompson also said the project has not been finalized yet.
"We're at the stage where we are looking at the possibility of this," he said.
"We were trying to find someone very qualified to take on in a masterful way this large, complex project."
I'll give the Newspaper a B+ for their effort, after allowing the story to flounder and fester in the critical public eye for almost two weeks.
Notice that as is typical with newspapers, mistakes made in stories printed in large print, above the fold, on the front page are later corrected somewhere else inside in fine print, if they are corrected at all.
The interesting thing is the number of letters to the editor that have been published addressing the initial story...a total of five to date, including this positive one in today's issue:
Backlash about old oak sculpture saddens artist
In regards to having the old oak tree carved by a sculptor, I understand the reasoning about the money being used for humanitarian needs, and the other options mentioned are okay. Still, as an artist myself, it makes me sad that once again, as always, art is considered unimportant, or the very, very least important.
Artists have to earn a living, too. A plastic surgeon "carves" someone's body and reshapes it for the sake of egotism and makes that much money, I'm sure. How important is that?
Jackie Strickland
Then there is this one that's the third negative one to date:
BrunswickMayor may be risking re-election due to idea
Mr. Mayor, while your moves to improve our city, (ie: tearing down the eyesores) are to be commended, I have to stop and think about the idea of spending $35,000 to sculpt what is left of a tree.
Are you out of your mind? Don't you think that the monies could be spent better elsewhere in the community?
Do you want to risk re-election because of a tree? If you want to help preserve the city of Brunswick's history, then look around and find a cause that will benefit the members of the community, perhaps even garner some profits for Brunswick. Sculpt a tree? Mr. Mayor! It's firewood!
MJ Bragg
And finally, much to my surprise, blog reader and frequent commenter here at this blog, Ed Drew, wrote a letter without my prior knowledge and finally managed to get my name mentioned in the newspaper in association with the project I originated.
Ed wrote this:
BrunswickInformation regarding tree appears wrong
I am very disappointed at the recent reporting of the events surrounding the carving of the remains of the oak tree from K Street. I was well aware of the plans that had been put together with great effort by Virgil Rogers of St. Simons Island. He put considerable time and effort into saving the tree stump and the plans included having it done with private donations, not tax dollars as you imply in your editorial.
I am very disappointed in your inability to correctly write a story and editorial of an event right there in your city. Neither of these even mentioned Mr. Rogers, who, had it not been for him, there would not even have even been a project. If you can't get a local story correct, with proper credit to local individuals, how in the world can you get anything correct?
I formerly lived in Brunswick, that's why I am familiar with the situation.
Kenneth Drew
Deridder, LA
All I can say is...THANKS ED, and hopefully with a little luck we can turn this thing around and get it done after all.
What still bugs the heck out of me was why it had to be such a mess in the first place?
We'll, just to keep torturing myself, I bought a copy of today's newspaper on my way home from dinner. You can imagine my surprise when, on the top of page two, they published this article:
City's tree plan just a sprout
Fri, Jul 21, 2006By KEITH LAING
The Brunswick News
The city of Brunswick wants someone else to pick up the bill for resurrecting one of its fallen oak trees.
Mayor Bryan Thompson said the city will seek assistance from several sources to raise the $35,000 it is expected to cost to have a professional sculptor carve a fully grown tree felled during the K Street sewer repair project into a community landmark celebrating the lives of prominent Georgians.
If the proposal comes to fruition, the 180,000-pound tree, which had once shaded K Street between Martin Luther King Jr. Boulevard and Amherst Street, would be transformed into a piece of artwork commemorating Georgia founder James Oglethorpe, civil rights leader Martin Luther King Jr. and poet Sidney Lanier.
"There could be a variety of sources, such as the area arts organization and private sector donations," Thompson said.
He added while the city has selected Pennslyvania-based artist Joe King to create the sculpture, it has not arranged to finance the project.
"It was never our intention that the city was going to drop $35,000 on this," he said.
"We were talking to this guy to get a ballpark range of what something like this would require in terms of cash" We are fully planning on seeing what kinds of partnerships might be formed throughout the community to help pull this together."
Thompson also said the project has not been finalized yet.
"We're at the stage where we are looking at the possibility of this," he said.
"We were trying to find someone very qualified to take on in a masterful way this large, complex project."
I'll give the Newspaper a B+ for their effort, after allowing the story to flounder and fester in the critical public eye for almost two weeks.
Notice that as is typical with newspapers, mistakes made in stories printed in large print, above the fold, on the front page are later corrected somewhere else inside in fine print, if they are corrected at all.
The interesting thing is the number of letters to the editor that have been published addressing the initial story...a total of five to date, including this positive one in today's issue:
Backlash about old oak sculpture saddens artist
In regards to having the old oak tree carved by a sculptor, I understand the reasoning about the money being used for humanitarian needs, and the other options mentioned are okay. Still, as an artist myself, it makes me sad that once again, as always, art is considered unimportant, or the very, very least important.
Artists have to earn a living, too. A plastic surgeon "carves" someone's body and reshapes it for the sake of egotism and makes that much money, I'm sure. How important is that?
Jackie Strickland
Then there is this one that's the third negative one to date:
BrunswickMayor may be risking re-election due to idea
Mr. Mayor, while your moves to improve our city, (ie: tearing down the eyesores) are to be commended, I have to stop and think about the idea of spending $35,000 to sculpt what is left of a tree.
Are you out of your mind? Don't you think that the monies could be spent better elsewhere in the community?
Do you want to risk re-election because of a tree? If you want to help preserve the city of Brunswick's history, then look around and find a cause that will benefit the members of the community, perhaps even garner some profits for Brunswick. Sculpt a tree? Mr. Mayor! It's firewood!
MJ Bragg
And finally, much to my surprise, blog reader and frequent commenter here at this blog, Ed Drew, wrote a letter without my prior knowledge and finally managed to get my name mentioned in the newspaper in association with the project I originated.
Ed wrote this:
BrunswickInformation regarding tree appears wrong
I am very disappointed at the recent reporting of the events surrounding the carving of the remains of the oak tree from K Street. I was well aware of the plans that had been put together with great effort by Virgil Rogers of St. Simons Island. He put considerable time and effort into saving the tree stump and the plans included having it done with private donations, not tax dollars as you imply in your editorial.
I am very disappointed in your inability to correctly write a story and editorial of an event right there in your city. Neither of these even mentioned Mr. Rogers, who, had it not been for him, there would not even have even been a project. If you can't get a local story correct, with proper credit to local individuals, how in the world can you get anything correct?
I formerly lived in Brunswick, that's why I am familiar with the situation.
Kenneth Drew
Deridder, LA
All I can say is...THANKS ED, and hopefully with a little luck we can turn this thing around and get it done after all.
What still bugs the heck out of me was why it had to be such a mess in the first place?
Friday, July 21, 2006
And Now…A Final Word From Your Sponsor
Unintended Consequences
Those that follow this blog know that for a little over a week now I’ve been on the verge of having a heart attack. I’ve written more profanity in this blog in that period of time than I’ve written in the previous 23 months, and to anyone that I’ve offended, I offer my sincerest apology.
In the interest of continuity and for archive purposes I’m leaving the postings up, so just like a TV show or movie I ask that you just avert your eyes from the offending postings or stop coming here as punishment. Heck, write me a comment and tell me how immature I am.
That said, I’d like to summarize my position on the K-Street Tree Project, and then get on with life here on the internet because there are much more important things in the world than my 50 ton tree trunk worth writing about.
Back in February when I originally came up with the idea of saving the old tree from the landfill, I had only two things in mind: “Saving the old tree from the landfill and erecting a really nice piece of art in an inner city minority community that doesn’t get much attention from artists and the public.”
In fact, about the only thing ever written about the K-Street area is the reporting of the latest robbery, murder, or break in, with the occasional “puff piece” about the nearby Girls & Boys Club thrown in once every few years for good measure.
It was just that simple.
When I took the project to the Mayor and the City, all I asked was that they honor my idea of putting the tree back home where it came from, or at least nearby. It would be easy enough to take it, have it carved, and toss it in the swanky already revitalized historic district adjacent to some half million dollar mansions and have a big black tie party as an unveiling, but that’s not what the City promised to do.
The other important thing, in my mind, was to keep the story under wraps until we could develop the project and knew the details before we went to the media and let the general public know what we were doing.
Yes, we wanted to control the story in a way, but I thought that the story is what it is, and I knew that publicity was a powerful tool and it had value in supporting our fundraising efforts.
Unfortunately, all of that is out the window now, because, to put it bluntly, I didn’t realize that I was surrounded by a newspaper company and a community full of Neanderthals.
They just don’t get it and, the more I say, the worse things get.
There’s a combination of racism, politics, and just plain stupidity at work here, and one slightly balding, slightly graying, slightly overweight man sitting on one little island cannot overcome forces that have had years if not centuries to build up and gain strength.
It’s not just blacks against whites or Democrats versus Republicans, you have the additional dynamic of Island residents versus Mainlanders, and Newcomers versus life long residents—and I greatly underestimated those issues when this all got started.
The bottom line is, like it or not, this thing has taken on a life of it’s own in the media, and nothing I can say or do now with change that or possibly undo the damage caused by the way the local newspaper as spun this story.
They (the newspaper) actually believe their own inept coverage, they’ve come out on the editorial page against it, published letters to the editor against it, and the public that actually reads the newspaper and listens to the radio is firmly against what really was an honest, sincere, altruistic effort on my part and that of the City.
In the end, the problem for me is, that this same negative publicity is causing potential donors to avoid getting involved in the project, and even potential team members and contractors are leery of getting involved. I had actually asked for price discounts or even free work from the concrete footing contractor and professional structural engineer designing the footing, but now I expect the best I can do is pay full price and keep their name out of it.
Finally, in losing my temper, I’ve looked like an immature teenager here on the blog and alienated both the newspaper editor and the political reporter that started the furor in the first place, and any day now I expect my name to come up in a newspaper article with a picture of a rabid dog or Charles Manson attached to the story.
Would someone please tell me why everything I touch these days seems to turn upside down?
Why does the “establishment” have so much inertia so as to prevent anything new and different from happening every once in a while?
I’ve donated thousands of hours of my time over the past two and one half years to non-profit theaters and other charitable organizations here in the Golden Isles, and with only two exceptions, each and every time a project with my name on it has come up for public scrutiny, they either gave someone else credit, left my name out entirely, or bitched at me behind the scenes for stealing the spotlight and not letting someone else take credit for my efforts when I did complain.
I know that it’s the thought that counts and everything, but once and a while, toss ME a bone too when I'm busting my hump on Saturday night and everyone else on the marquee is out drinking and toasting their success.
For the time being, I’m done with Glynn County and the people of Glynn County, Georgia. I’m going to finish my part of my beloved K-Street Tree Project, then step back and if it gets funded and installed fine, and if not…YOU know I did my best and what actually happened by reading the past week and one half here on the blog.
And, in closing this issue, I have one final thought for your consideration:
Imagine, if you will, what else the Brunswick News has done over the past one hundred plus years, if they are capable of doing this to a story about someone “A Wantin’ To Spend Thirty Five Thousand Dollars A Carvin’ On A Big Ole’ Tree Stump”?
Scary, isn’t it…
Those that follow this blog know that for a little over a week now I’ve been on the verge of having a heart attack. I’ve written more profanity in this blog in that period of time than I’ve written in the previous 23 months, and to anyone that I’ve offended, I offer my sincerest apology.
In the interest of continuity and for archive purposes I’m leaving the postings up, so just like a TV show or movie I ask that you just avert your eyes from the offending postings or stop coming here as punishment. Heck, write me a comment and tell me how immature I am.
That said, I’d like to summarize my position on the K-Street Tree Project, and then get on with life here on the internet because there are much more important things in the world than my 50 ton tree trunk worth writing about.
Back in February when I originally came up with the idea of saving the old tree from the landfill, I had only two things in mind: “Saving the old tree from the landfill and erecting a really nice piece of art in an inner city minority community that doesn’t get much attention from artists and the public.”
In fact, about the only thing ever written about the K-Street area is the reporting of the latest robbery, murder, or break in, with the occasional “puff piece” about the nearby Girls & Boys Club thrown in once every few years for good measure.
It was just that simple.
When I took the project to the Mayor and the City, all I asked was that they honor my idea of putting the tree back home where it came from, or at least nearby. It would be easy enough to take it, have it carved, and toss it in the swanky already revitalized historic district adjacent to some half million dollar mansions and have a big black tie party as an unveiling, but that’s not what the City promised to do.
The other important thing, in my mind, was to keep the story under wraps until we could develop the project and knew the details before we went to the media and let the general public know what we were doing.
Yes, we wanted to control the story in a way, but I thought that the story is what it is, and I knew that publicity was a powerful tool and it had value in supporting our fundraising efforts.
Unfortunately, all of that is out the window now, because, to put it bluntly, I didn’t realize that I was surrounded by a newspaper company and a community full of Neanderthals.
They just don’t get it and, the more I say, the worse things get.
There’s a combination of racism, politics, and just plain stupidity at work here, and one slightly balding, slightly graying, slightly overweight man sitting on one little island cannot overcome forces that have had years if not centuries to build up and gain strength.
It’s not just blacks against whites or Democrats versus Republicans, you have the additional dynamic of Island residents versus Mainlanders, and Newcomers versus life long residents—and I greatly underestimated those issues when this all got started.
The bottom line is, like it or not, this thing has taken on a life of it’s own in the media, and nothing I can say or do now with change that or possibly undo the damage caused by the way the local newspaper as spun this story.
They (the newspaper) actually believe their own inept coverage, they’ve come out on the editorial page against it, published letters to the editor against it, and the public that actually reads the newspaper and listens to the radio is firmly against what really was an honest, sincere, altruistic effort on my part and that of the City.
In the end, the problem for me is, that this same negative publicity is causing potential donors to avoid getting involved in the project, and even potential team members and contractors are leery of getting involved. I had actually asked for price discounts or even free work from the concrete footing contractor and professional structural engineer designing the footing, but now I expect the best I can do is pay full price and keep their name out of it.
Finally, in losing my temper, I’ve looked like an immature teenager here on the blog and alienated both the newspaper editor and the political reporter that started the furor in the first place, and any day now I expect my name to come up in a newspaper article with a picture of a rabid dog or Charles Manson attached to the story.
Would someone please tell me why everything I touch these days seems to turn upside down?
Why does the “establishment” have so much inertia so as to prevent anything new and different from happening every once in a while?
I’ve donated thousands of hours of my time over the past two and one half years to non-profit theaters and other charitable organizations here in the Golden Isles, and with only two exceptions, each and every time a project with my name on it has come up for public scrutiny, they either gave someone else credit, left my name out entirely, or bitched at me behind the scenes for stealing the spotlight and not letting someone else take credit for my efforts when I did complain.
I know that it’s the thought that counts and everything, but once and a while, toss ME a bone too when I'm busting my hump on Saturday night and everyone else on the marquee is out drinking and toasting their success.
For the time being, I’m done with Glynn County and the people of Glynn County, Georgia. I’m going to finish my part of my beloved K-Street Tree Project, then step back and if it gets funded and installed fine, and if not…YOU know I did my best and what actually happened by reading the past week and one half here on the blog.
And, in closing this issue, I have one final thought for your consideration:
Imagine, if you will, what else the Brunswick News has done over the past one hundred plus years, if they are capable of doing this to a story about someone “A Wantin’ To Spend Thirty Five Thousand Dollars A Carvin’ On A Big Ole’ Tree Stump”?
Scary, isn’t it…
Thursday, July 20, 2006
And In Local News…
What Would You Think Of Me Trying This?
If I had an extra couple of thousand dollars lying around, here is how the headlines would read later this week in ourlocal fishwrapper The Brunswick News:
Citizen Files Suit Against City
Art versus Firewood
The Brunswick News has learned that the city of Brunswick’s recent public arts efforts could actually end up costing the city money in court.
As partially (yet inaccurately) reported here in the pages of this paper, the city has recently been planning to restore the giagantic trunk of a tree that was removed to make way for extension of a large sewer line on K-street in downtown Brunswick.
Back in 2005, when the city was determining the fate of the magnificent 200 year old tree, this same newspaper came out against then Mayor Brad Brown and the decision to save money by removing the tree rather than rerouting the pipeline around its roots.
Now that the tree has been uprooted and killed, and after about three seconds of consideration, the Brunswick News believes that we should all just let “bygones be bygones” and let the old tree fade into history.
You know…”out of sight…out of mind”
Well, something like that…
Any hoooooooo….St. Simons island resident Virgil Rogers was so inspired by this paper’s coverage of Mayor Bryan Thompson’s efforts to resurrect the tree and have it carved into a piece of art funded by private donations and Arts Grants, that he IS ABANDONING HIS OWN PROJECT AND SUING THE CITY FOR THE FUNDING AS YET TO BE RAISED, and donating the proceeds to charity.
“We got to have more textbooks ‘cause I know that little chirren are wandering around trying to learn Spanish from video tapes and cassettes” said Rogers.
“We got to be a spending more money on food for the needie, and all them crack heads down on Wolfe street need a new shelter when the temperature falls down to 70 degrees in January. You know where blue gums come from don’t you?”
“I want to have that tree sawed up and split into kindlin’, then we’ll use the money left over to buy everyone in Newtown Brunswick that a wants one a bright shiny new fireplace.”
“After all, them mean old white folks out there on St. Simons Island have fireplaces, and 70 degrees is cold.”
“That’l teach them, trying to do that high browed art when people are freezing and starving and don’t have rocks to smoke.”
More as this story develops, If we can keep our reporters awake and sober.
If I had an extra couple of thousand dollars lying around, here is how the headlines would read later this week in our
Citizen Files Suit Against City
Art versus Firewood
The Brunswick News has learned that the city of Brunswick’s recent public arts efforts could actually end up costing the city money in court.
As partially (yet inaccurately) reported here in the pages of this paper, the city has recently been planning to restore the giagantic trunk of a tree that was removed to make way for extension of a large sewer line on K-street in downtown Brunswick.
Back in 2005, when the city was determining the fate of the magnificent 200 year old tree, this same newspaper came out against then Mayor Brad Brown and the decision to save money by removing the tree rather than rerouting the pipeline around its roots.
Now that the tree has been uprooted and killed, and after about three seconds of consideration, the Brunswick News believes that we should all just let “bygones be bygones” and let the old tree fade into history.
You know…”out of sight…out of mind”
Well, something like that…
Any hoooooooo….St. Simons island resident Virgil Rogers was so inspired by this paper’s coverage of Mayor Bryan Thompson’s efforts to resurrect the tree and have it carved into a piece of art funded by private donations and Arts Grants, that he IS ABANDONING HIS OWN PROJECT AND SUING THE CITY FOR THE FUNDING AS YET TO BE RAISED, and donating the proceeds to charity.
“We got to have more textbooks ‘cause I know that little chirren are wandering around trying to learn Spanish from video tapes and cassettes” said Rogers.
“We got to be a spending more money on food for the needie, and all them crack heads down on Wolfe street need a new shelter when the temperature falls down to 70 degrees in January. You know where blue gums come from don’t you?”
“I want to have that tree sawed up and split into kindlin’, then we’ll use the money left over to buy everyone in Newtown Brunswick that a wants one a bright shiny new fireplace.”
“After all, them mean old white folks out there on St. Simons Island have fireplaces, and 70 degrees is cold.”
“That’l teach them, trying to do that high browed art when people are freezing and starving and don’t have rocks to smoke.”
More as this story develops, If we can keep our reporters awake and sober.
Words of the Day
OK Chirren' Get Out Your Dictionarys...
Feckless ___________________________________________________
Obtuse _____________________________________________________
Feckless ___________________________________________________
Obtuse _____________________________________________________
I Got A Good Edumication
But It Weren't Free...And It Still Be Going On
What About YOU?
(testing testing testing....thump thump thump...Is This Thing ON?)
What About YOU?
(testing testing testing....thump thump thump...Is This Thing ON?)
Wednesday, July 19, 2006
Our Newspaper Is Absolutely, Positively, Full Of Shit
And once they screw up a given issue, they obviously won't give up...
For your consideration, I present today's "Letter to the Editor" headline in the Brunswick News:
"PUT THE MONEY TO BETTER USE"
Instead of paying an out-of-towner to do the oak sculpture, why not use local talent to utilize high school art students. This would mean a whole lot more to our community for generations to come, plus save $35,000 today.
Brent Nichols"
And...if that wasn't ignorant and obviously misinformed enough, one of today's other letters to the editor headline was this:
"Brunswick Money for tree carving should go to the needy"
What in the world are you people thinking?
$35,000 to carve a tree stump?
There are shelters, soup kitchens and other charities that could put that money to use for a tangible benefit in our city. Do you know how much clothes, blankets or food $35,000 could provide? How about text books in school?
At my daughters' middle school last year, five out of seven classes did not assign homework because there were not enough text books for each child to have one. But you can spend $35,000 on a tree stump sculpture? Nice one, Mr. Mayor, nice one. Reminds me of another sculpture the city thought we needed many years ago – "Figures Reclining in the Marsh" if I remember correctly. Another waste of public funding there as well.
Michael Vinson
Brunswick
You see ladies and gentlemen...here is a perfect example of the newspaper (emphasis on the "Paper"), a so-called professional staff of so-called journalists, jumping on a story with few if any facts, and then still proceeding through the process of executing their agenda .
Dammit, I'm pissed off...and I'm not letting this thing go until somebody bleeds ink, if not blood.
UPDATE:
Now that I've calmed down a little...let me add, to be honest and accurate, that the newspaper finally did try to call me late yesterday, nine days after this story first hit the presses. I didn't manage to haul my lumbering ass out of the swimming pool in time to call theasshole reporter back, however.
That would have involved effort, and right now the last thing that I'm expending is additional effort on this issue, except for possibly when I have nothing else to do except fart and belch.
What I do want to do here is try to impress on those of you out there that actually believe everything that you see and hear on the TV news and in the newspaper that most of the time what you are being fed is TOTAL SHIT, regurgitated by some moron that can't find their way to work every day without a map and an extra half hour to make the journey.
I'm telling you, ladies and gentlemen, that the Brunswick News has, for whatever reason or lack thereof, totally screwed up this project that was tendered by ME to the city with the best of intentions, and I actually don't know if I have the energy to finish it because of having to deal with the public furror that their inept reporting has generated.
After all, there is no money to spend on the tree right now.
There is no money to divert to feeding the homeless.
There is no money to use to buy textbooks.
I haven't made one thin damn dime on this project, and never expected to.
All I wanted to do is save the remains of a two hundred year old tree from the indignity of the landfill or the woodpile, and the semi-professional journalistic idiots down at the Brunswick News screwed all of that up.
I sure hope that they got their money's worth and sold a bunch of newspapers.
No...I'm lieing...I actually don't.
For your consideration, I present today's "Letter to the Editor" headline in the Brunswick News:
"PUT THE MONEY TO BETTER USE"
Instead of paying an out-of-towner to do the oak sculpture, why not use local talent to utilize high school art students. This would mean a whole lot more to our community for generations to come, plus save $35,000 today.
Brent Nichols"
And...if that wasn't ignorant and obviously misinformed enough, one of today's other letters to the editor headline was this:
"Brunswick Money for tree carving should go to the needy"
What in the world are you people thinking?
$35,000 to carve a tree stump?
There are shelters, soup kitchens and other charities that could put that money to use for a tangible benefit in our city. Do you know how much clothes, blankets or food $35,000 could provide? How about text books in school?
At my daughters' middle school last year, five out of seven classes did not assign homework because there were not enough text books for each child to have one. But you can spend $35,000 on a tree stump sculpture? Nice one, Mr. Mayor, nice one. Reminds me of another sculpture the city thought we needed many years ago – "Figures Reclining in the Marsh" if I remember correctly. Another waste of public funding there as well.
Michael Vinson
Brunswick
You see ladies and gentlemen...here is a perfect example of the newspaper (emphasis on the "Paper"), a so-called professional staff of so-called journalists, jumping on a story with few if any facts, and then still proceeding through the process of executing their agenda .
Dammit, I'm pissed off...and I'm not letting this thing go until somebody bleeds ink, if not blood.
UPDATE:
Now that I've calmed down a little...let me add, to be honest and accurate, that the newspaper finally did try to call me late yesterday, nine days after this story first hit the presses. I didn't manage to haul my lumbering ass out of the swimming pool in time to call the
That would have involved effort, and right now the last thing that I'm expending is additional effort on this issue, except for possibly when I have nothing else to do except fart and belch.
What I do want to do here is try to impress on those of you out there that actually believe everything that you see and hear on the TV news and in the newspaper that most of the time what you are being fed is TOTAL SHIT, regurgitated by some moron that can't find their way to work every day without a map and an extra half hour to make the journey.
I'm telling you, ladies and gentlemen, that the Brunswick News has, for whatever reason or lack thereof, totally screwed up this project that was tendered by ME to the city with the best of intentions, and I actually don't know if I have the energy to finish it because of having to deal with the public furror that their inept reporting has generated.
After all, there is no money to spend on the tree right now.
There is no money to divert to feeding the homeless.
There is no money to use to buy textbooks.
I haven't made one thin damn dime on this project, and never expected to.
All I wanted to do is save the remains of a two hundred year old tree from the indignity of the landfill or the woodpile, and the semi-professional journalistic idiots down at the Brunswick News screwed all of that up.
I sure hope that they got their money's worth and sold a bunch of newspapers.
No...I'm lieing...I actually don't.
The Text Of My Original Proposal
As Promised...Here's What I Originally Took To The City...
The
K Street
Tree Sculpture
Project
By Virgil R. Rogers, III
February 27, 2006
In late 2005 the City of Brunswick and the Norwich/K Street community witnessed the loss of one of their oldest citizens—a gigantic old Live Oak tree that had stood watch over it’s fellow residents since the late 18th century. The tree was the unfortunate victim of a sewer trunk line construction project.
The “K-Street” tree is considered to possibly be old enough to have witnessed the founding of the City of Brunswick and the signing of the Declaration of Independence, but it is most definitely old enough to have lived through the battles of the War of 1812, the Civil War, WWI, WWII, the seen the arrival of the airplane and the automobile in Glynn County.
The purpose and goals of what I call “The K Street Tree Sculpture Project” is not to lament the loss and second guess the reasons behind its demise, but rather to celebrate the life of this glorious old tree and to acknowledge the importance of all of these ancient leafed monoliths to our local citizens and the Golden Isles community.
To this end, I am considering several possible levels of project development, each with unique meaning, design requirements, and costs.
My initial single purpose and core goal is to save the remaining trunk from the K Street Tree from the Landfill, the Sawmill, or someone’s fireplace. That said, I propose that the tree’s trunk be salvaged, stored, and processed into some meaningful artistic symbol. Ideally it would afterward be returned to a location as close to its original location as possible. This would allow the local community to regain their familiar old resident in a dignified, yet revised appearance.
I am working on a number of variations on this theme:
1. Relocating, up-righting, and carving various portions of the trunk into images of well known individuals of historical regional and state significance. Those which initially come to mind include British General Oglethorpe, Poet Sidney Lanier, and Dr. Martin Luther King. Other more recent persons could also be considered.
2. Relocating, up-righting, and including the tree trunk in the middle of a new playground and play structure dedicated to the K Street children, including those at the adjacent Boys and Girls Club.
3. Relocating and including the tree trunk inside of or adjacent to some as yet unidentified facility—possibly a community or visitors center.
The involvement of the City of Brunswick and Glynn County would be encouraged and appreciated, but I would like to minimize the use of taxpayer funds for the purely “artistic” portion of the project. Depending on the final configuration and actual scope, assistance of the local government(s) in providing a display site and appropriate foundation could be critical to the success of the project.
Regarding the final design theme, something as simple as a contest held within the local schools, allowing the children to suggest the appearance is one possibility. Other options could be considered when and if they are presented.
I would like to elicit the ideas, opinions, and assistance from any and all members of the local government in formulating the project scope and direction, as well as in completing its implementation. Of course all local, state, and national Building Codes and Zoning Regulations would be strictly adhered to.
As an experienced engineer and project manager, I offer my services to manage and coordinate the K-Street Tree Sculpture Project to a successful conclusion. Local and nationally recognized artists, each familiar with the techniques of carving large scale sculpture out of trees would also be included on the project team.
In addition to local artist Keith Jennings—creator of the “Tree Spirit” carvings on St. Simons Island—I have made preliminary contact with several other national artists including Voss Finn and Joe King and I am awaiting their expression of interest in competing for the project.
Mr. Kings work includes projects for Pittsburgh’s Carnege Museum and the Smithsonian Institute. Some of his work includes:
I believe that the project completion timeframe would be between three months and one year, depending on the final scope and details undertaken. I have had a preliminary conversation with Mr. Gragg at Gragg Cabinets located on ML King Boulevard about using his property for temporary storage if necessary. As secure site is also required for use during construction to ensure public safety and to prevent vandalism.
A basic cost of between $3,000 and $10,000 could be expected, although this estimate is very preliminary and is again affected by the final project scope. Funding could be raised through donations from local individuals and businesses, including services to support the artist/craftsman’s per diem costs (hotel rooms, meals, etc.)
I look forward to working with the City of Brunswick government personnel and our local business community in facilitating the successful completion of this project, producing a result of which we can all be proud.
(all of the photographs and some of the formatting is missing because of limitations of HTML coding, but the text is verbatum)
The
K Street
Tree Sculpture
Project
By Virgil R. Rogers, III
February 27, 2006
In late 2005 the City of Brunswick and the Norwich/K Street community witnessed the loss of one of their oldest citizens—a gigantic old Live Oak tree that had stood watch over it’s fellow residents since the late 18th century. The tree was the unfortunate victim of a sewer trunk line construction project.
The “K-Street” tree is considered to possibly be old enough to have witnessed the founding of the City of Brunswick and the signing of the Declaration of Independence, but it is most definitely old enough to have lived through the battles of the War of 1812, the Civil War, WWI, WWII, the seen the arrival of the airplane and the automobile in Glynn County.
The purpose and goals of what I call “The K Street Tree Sculpture Project” is not to lament the loss and second guess the reasons behind its demise, but rather to celebrate the life of this glorious old tree and to acknowledge the importance of all of these ancient leafed monoliths to our local citizens and the Golden Isles community.
To this end, I am considering several possible levels of project development, each with unique meaning, design requirements, and costs.
My initial single purpose and core goal is to save the remaining trunk from the K Street Tree from the Landfill, the Sawmill, or someone’s fireplace. That said, I propose that the tree’s trunk be salvaged, stored, and processed into some meaningful artistic symbol. Ideally it would afterward be returned to a location as close to its original location as possible. This would allow the local community to regain their familiar old resident in a dignified, yet revised appearance.
I am working on a number of variations on this theme:
1. Relocating, up-righting, and carving various portions of the trunk into images of well known individuals of historical regional and state significance. Those which initially come to mind include British General Oglethorpe, Poet Sidney Lanier, and Dr. Martin Luther King. Other more recent persons could also be considered.
2. Relocating, up-righting, and including the tree trunk in the middle of a new playground and play structure dedicated to the K Street children, including those at the adjacent Boys and Girls Club.
3. Relocating and including the tree trunk inside of or adjacent to some as yet unidentified facility—possibly a community or visitors center.
The involvement of the City of Brunswick and Glynn County would be encouraged and appreciated, but I would like to minimize the use of taxpayer funds for the purely “artistic” portion of the project. Depending on the final configuration and actual scope, assistance of the local government(s) in providing a display site and appropriate foundation could be critical to the success of the project.
Regarding the final design theme, something as simple as a contest held within the local schools, allowing the children to suggest the appearance is one possibility. Other options could be considered when and if they are presented.
I would like to elicit the ideas, opinions, and assistance from any and all members of the local government in formulating the project scope and direction, as well as in completing its implementation. Of course all local, state, and national Building Codes and Zoning Regulations would be strictly adhered to.
As an experienced engineer and project manager, I offer my services to manage and coordinate the K-Street Tree Sculpture Project to a successful conclusion. Local and nationally recognized artists, each familiar with the techniques of carving large scale sculpture out of trees would also be included on the project team.
In addition to local artist Keith Jennings—creator of the “Tree Spirit” carvings on St. Simons Island—I have made preliminary contact with several other national artists including Voss Finn and Joe King and I am awaiting their expression of interest in competing for the project.
Mr. Kings work includes projects for Pittsburgh’s Carnege Museum and the Smithsonian Institute. Some of his work includes:
I believe that the project completion timeframe would be between three months and one year, depending on the final scope and details undertaken. I have had a preliminary conversation with Mr. Gragg at Gragg Cabinets located on ML King Boulevard about using his property for temporary storage if necessary. As secure site is also required for use during construction to ensure public safety and to prevent vandalism.
A basic cost of between $3,000 and $10,000 could be expected, although this estimate is very preliminary and is again affected by the final project scope. Funding could be raised through donations from local individuals and businesses, including services to support the artist/craftsman’s per diem costs (hotel rooms, meals, etc.)
I look forward to working with the City of Brunswick government personnel and our local business community in facilitating the successful completion of this project, producing a result of which we can all be proud.
(all of the photographs and some of the formatting is missing because of limitations of HTML coding, but the text is verbatum)
Letter To The Editor
I really sent this out this morning...
Dear Kerry,
I’m writing to personally thank you and your newspaper for, in less than eight days, essentially killing the results of my efforts spent over the past five months working on what I call the “K Street Tree Project.”
It was actually Tuesday’s thoughtful, insightful, yet totally incorrect editorial that probably drove the last stake into our fundraising efforts.
Last week I managed to quell the firestorm you created on the local morning radio talk show with your incomplete article of July 10th by explaining to the listeners that the $35,000 cost figure was just an estimate, that the project was still in the preliminary stages, and that most if not all of the funding would be coming from private donors and federal/state grants for the Arts.
Now this week it is apparent that you not only believe your own shoddy reporting, but that it is worth your while to come out and devote editorial space to deride my efforts without even asking any further questions.
Having spent an additional two hours on the phone Tuesday morning with structural engineers and concrete contractors soliciting pricing and guarantees of discounts in return for recognition and publicity, when I saw your ill-informed editorial I realized that I was fighting a losing battle.
After all, who in their right mind would want to get involved in the project now that the Brunswick News has single handedly turned the public against the effort to resurrect the old tree?
Never mind that, from the very outset, when I PERSONALLY conceived of and presented this project to the Mayor and the City, I emphatically stated that:
“I would like to minimize the use of taxpayer funds for the purely “artistic” portion of the project…Funding could be raised through donations from local individuals and businesses, including services to support the artist/craftsman’s per diem costs (hotel rooms, meals, etc.)”
The only thing I wanted from the city was a place to put the tree once it was carved and help moving it—something they were already obligated to do once they ripped it out of the ground to make way for the sewer project.
Remember that the city saved tens if not hundreds of thousands of dollars by killing the tree rather than routing the sewer line around its roots?
The only difference I asked for was carving the tree and putting it back in the neighborhood where it came from for public viewing rather than hauling it to the dump for disposal.
Yet you, in your infinite wisdom, with your building filled with so-called “professional” journalists, have seriously damaged my efforts.
Not one single person at 3011 Altama Avenue has managed to pick up the phone and ask me where the funding was coming from, even after I hand delivered a package of material describing our project last Tuesday to Keith Laing, the author of the original article.
For all you and your staff of “professional journalists” know, I PERSONALLY might be giving the city the money to do this project.
For all you and your staff of “professional journalists” know, the Mayor might be donating some of his recent, very publicized, game show winnings to the project.
What you and your editorial staff apparently don’t know or didn’t bother to mention in either the published article or your editorial is that we spent at least half of the last meeting at city hall (conducted on July 6th) talking about fundraising and applying for state and federal Art Grants.
Why was that fact omitted?
After all, the Brunswick News had a reporter and a photographer present in our meeting.
I assume that Mr. Keith Laing was that reporter.
Is Keith deaf, stupid, a partisan hack, or just forgetful?
I forgot to mention Attention Deficit Disorder…but I digress…
Tell Keith that I really admire his journalist skills. By the way, you might also consider buying Mr. Laing a new tape recorder because his pens and pencils obviously don’t provide enough information gathering technology to enable him to actually REPORT a story accurately.
You see, Mr. Laing forgot to mention or failed to remember a number of other things that came up in our meeting.
Things like that the actual carving of the tree was only going to cost ten or twelve thousand dollars.
Things like that we were going to ask for local artists to submit ideas and even be involved in the carving if they could do so safely and competently.
Things like that, even if we took the Brunswick News’ advice and handed your newsroom a truck load of chainsaws so that “local artists and volunteers” could do the carving, we’d still need cranes to lift the massive trunk and a concrete foundation to rest it on once it was finished. The last time I checked, cranes and concrete cost money, something that it’s apparently easy for “professional journalists” and uninformed amateurs to overlook when considering the viability of projects like this. (By the way, the trunk weighs somewhere between 80 and 100 thousand pounds, not 180,000 pounds as your band of “professional journalists” has incorrectly reported not once, but twice now.)
Things like that we were going to ask the children in the local neighborhoods for suggestions for what they would like to see in the artwork. We might possibly have a competition in the middle schools looking for ideas. I personally came up with the names of General James Oglethorpe, Poet Sidney Lanier, and Civil Rights leader the Reverend Martin Luther King in my initial proposal, but those names are not fixed in stone (excuse the unintended pun.)
For all I care, we can put your newspaper’s owner’s visage up there along with commissioner’s Cap Fendig and Tony Thaw, throw in a bunch of Arabs, camels, and add 72 naked, dancing Virgins up and down the tree trunk—all I’m trying to do here is save a giant 200 year old tree from a landfill, and get some positive PR for the city of Brunswick, Georgia in the process.
Why the hell do you have to go off half cocked and tear this thing apart before you know all of the facts?
Why do you and your newspaper seek to have it both ways?
I seem to recall numerous articles lamenting the political process leading to the removal of the tree in 2005. I seem to recall that public opinion was AGAINST the city taking the tree out, but now that the City wants to put it back, you’re against that too. And by the way, you need to leave the city council out of your editorializing because thus far, to my knowledge, the council is only involved by default.
The bottom line here is, until you received this letter, that you and the Brunswick News knew less about what you were writing and editorializing about than you should have—and that’s a crying shame because you’re in the reporting business…I think.
Or are you just in the editorializing business?
The ultimate irony in all of this is that liberals and the liberal media are constantly lamenting the plight of minority inner city neighborhoods and demanding that the government increase taxes in order to steal some of the wealth to be transferred to the “needy” and “downtrodden” in our society.
Thanks to the Brunswick News, funds from a bunch of mean old wealthy white men and women from St. Simons Island most definitely won’t be used to donate a world class piece of art to the citizens of the city of Brunswick.
And as to all you “professional journalists” down there at the Brunswick News—thanks for not hiring me for your recent position, because I refuse to work around and tolerate incompetents like Keith Laing.
You keep writing, and I’ll keep holding your feet to the fire.
Best Regards,
Virgil Raymond Rogers, III
That aught to get my message across...
Dear Kerry,
I’m writing to personally thank you and your newspaper for, in less than eight days, essentially killing the results of my efforts spent over the past five months working on what I call the “K Street Tree Project.”
It was actually Tuesday’s thoughtful, insightful, yet totally incorrect editorial that probably drove the last stake into our fundraising efforts.
Last week I managed to quell the firestorm you created on the local morning radio talk show with your incomplete article of July 10th by explaining to the listeners that the $35,000 cost figure was just an estimate, that the project was still in the preliminary stages, and that most if not all of the funding would be coming from private donors and federal/state grants for the Arts.
Now this week it is apparent that you not only believe your own shoddy reporting, but that it is worth your while to come out and devote editorial space to deride my efforts without even asking any further questions.
Having spent an additional two hours on the phone Tuesday morning with structural engineers and concrete contractors soliciting pricing and guarantees of discounts in return for recognition and publicity, when I saw your ill-informed editorial I realized that I was fighting a losing battle.
After all, who in their right mind would want to get involved in the project now that the Brunswick News has single handedly turned the public against the effort to resurrect the old tree?
Never mind that, from the very outset, when I PERSONALLY conceived of and presented this project to the Mayor and the City, I emphatically stated that:
“I would like to minimize the use of taxpayer funds for the purely “artistic” portion of the project…Funding could be raised through donations from local individuals and businesses, including services to support the artist/craftsman’s per diem costs (hotel rooms, meals, etc.)”
The only thing I wanted from the city was a place to put the tree once it was carved and help moving it—something they were already obligated to do once they ripped it out of the ground to make way for the sewer project.
Remember that the city saved tens if not hundreds of thousands of dollars by killing the tree rather than routing the sewer line around its roots?
The only difference I asked for was carving the tree and putting it back in the neighborhood where it came from for public viewing rather than hauling it to the dump for disposal.
Yet you, in your infinite wisdom, with your building filled with so-called “professional” journalists, have seriously damaged my efforts.
Not one single person at 3011 Altama Avenue has managed to pick up the phone and ask me where the funding was coming from, even after I hand delivered a package of material describing our project last Tuesday to Keith Laing, the author of the original article.
For all you and your staff of “professional journalists” know, I PERSONALLY might be giving the city the money to do this project.
For all you and your staff of “professional journalists” know, the Mayor might be donating some of his recent, very publicized, game show winnings to the project.
What you and your editorial staff apparently don’t know or didn’t bother to mention in either the published article or your editorial is that we spent at least half of the last meeting at city hall (conducted on July 6th) talking about fundraising and applying for state and federal Art Grants.
Why was that fact omitted?
After all, the Brunswick News had a reporter and a photographer present in our meeting.
I assume that Mr. Keith Laing was that reporter.
Is Keith deaf, stupid, a partisan hack, or just forgetful?
I forgot to mention Attention Deficit Disorder…but I digress…
Tell Keith that I really admire his journalist skills. By the way, you might also consider buying Mr. Laing a new tape recorder because his pens and pencils obviously don’t provide enough information gathering technology to enable him to actually REPORT a story accurately.
You see, Mr. Laing forgot to mention or failed to remember a number of other things that came up in our meeting.
Things like that the actual carving of the tree was only going to cost ten or twelve thousand dollars.
Things like that we were going to ask for local artists to submit ideas and even be involved in the carving if they could do so safely and competently.
Things like that, even if we took the Brunswick News’ advice and handed your newsroom a truck load of chainsaws so that “local artists and volunteers” could do the carving, we’d still need cranes to lift the massive trunk and a concrete foundation to rest it on once it was finished. The last time I checked, cranes and concrete cost money, something that it’s apparently easy for “professional journalists” and uninformed amateurs to overlook when considering the viability of projects like this. (By the way, the trunk weighs somewhere between 80 and 100 thousand pounds, not 180,000 pounds as your band of “professional journalists” has incorrectly reported not once, but twice now.)
Things like that we were going to ask the children in the local neighborhoods for suggestions for what they would like to see in the artwork. We might possibly have a competition in the middle schools looking for ideas. I personally came up with the names of General James Oglethorpe, Poet Sidney Lanier, and Civil Rights leader the Reverend Martin Luther King in my initial proposal, but those names are not fixed in stone (excuse the unintended pun.)
For all I care, we can put your newspaper’s owner’s visage up there along with commissioner’s Cap Fendig and Tony Thaw, throw in a bunch of Arabs, camels, and add 72 naked, dancing Virgins up and down the tree trunk—all I’m trying to do here is save a giant 200 year old tree from a landfill, and get some positive PR for the city of Brunswick, Georgia in the process.
Why the hell do you have to go off half cocked and tear this thing apart before you know all of the facts?
Why do you and your newspaper seek to have it both ways?
I seem to recall numerous articles lamenting the political process leading to the removal of the tree in 2005. I seem to recall that public opinion was AGAINST the city taking the tree out, but now that the City wants to put it back, you’re against that too. And by the way, you need to leave the city council out of your editorializing because thus far, to my knowledge, the council is only involved by default.
The bottom line here is, until you received this letter, that you and the Brunswick News knew less about what you were writing and editorializing about than you should have—and that’s a crying shame because you’re in the reporting business…I think.
Or are you just in the editorializing business?
The ultimate irony in all of this is that liberals and the liberal media are constantly lamenting the plight of minority inner city neighborhoods and demanding that the government increase taxes in order to steal some of the wealth to be transferred to the “needy” and “downtrodden” in our society.
Thanks to the Brunswick News, funds from a bunch of mean old wealthy white men and women from St. Simons Island most definitely won’t be used to donate a world class piece of art to the citizens of the city of Brunswick.
And as to all you “professional journalists” down there at the Brunswick News—thanks for not hiring me for your recent position, because I refuse to work around and tolerate incompetents like Keith Laing.
You keep writing, and I’ll keep holding your feet to the fire.
Best Regards,
Virgil Raymond Rogers, III
That aught to get my message across...
Monday, July 17, 2006
Kiss My Jewish Ass...
If I Lived In Israel, That's What I would Be Saying Right Now
Liberal panties are wet the world over.
Notice that I don't say "boxers" or "briefs" here, because I personally believe that even liberal men wear panties?
Most likely some of those big old, giant, Sears & Roebuck panties or pantie girdles that all of you girls had to worry about back in the days before Fredericks ofHooterville Hollywood started delivering free pictures to your doorstep of young women walking around in their underwear. (By the way, looking at all of the belts, buckles, straps, and laces...now in retrospect, I can't help but wonder if those things were actually designed to keep something from getting out...or something from getting in...oh...well...never mind...)
Any way, this world wide assortment of moistened undergarmets of whatever description are wet because 99% of the liberals are peeing on themselves as a result of Israeli Prime Minister Elhud Olmert electing to actually DEFEND the country he was elected to DEFEND.
All I have to say is THIS about THAT:
To HISbolla and HEZbolla and HERbolla and Hammas and HAMas and HamASS and whatever the islamofaschistic-dune-goon-towel-headed-mo-fos out there choose to call themselves...Keep on lobbing your tiny little chicken shit rockets at Israel.
Next, to the United Nations and Kofi Annon...BITE ME.
And Finally, if things get further out of hand, to the world community and President Bush, I say...
NUKE 'EM...
I'll get off the sofa and limp all the way to the Middle East, at my own expense, to help... and I think that there would be a few thousand middle aged Rednecks from Georgia and Alabama on their way right behind me too.
When are they all gonna learn?
Dammit
Liberal panties are wet the world over.
Notice that I don't say "boxers" or "briefs" here, because I personally believe that even liberal men wear panties?
Most likely some of those big old, giant, Sears & Roebuck panties or pantie girdles that all of you girls had to worry about back in the days before Fredericks of
Any way, this world wide assortment of moistened undergarmets of whatever description are wet because 99% of the liberals are peeing on themselves as a result of Israeli Prime Minister Elhud Olmert electing to actually DEFEND the country he was elected to DEFEND.
All I have to say is THIS about THAT:
To HISbolla and HEZbolla and HERbolla and Hammas and HAMas and HamASS and whatever the islamofaschistic-dune-goon-towel-headed-mo-fos out there choose to call themselves...Keep on lobbing your tiny little chicken shit rockets at Israel.
Next, to the United Nations and Kofi Annon...BITE ME.
And Finally, if things get further out of hand, to the world community and President Bush, I say...
NUKE 'EM...
I'll get off the sofa and limp all the way to the Middle East, at my own expense, to help... and I think that there would be a few thousand middle aged Rednecks from Georgia and Alabama on their way right behind me too.
When are they all gonna learn?
Dammit
Sunday, July 16, 2006
I'm A Bit Short On Words Right Now
Here...Go Read This...
I'm distracted, I'm pissed off, and I'm having trouble writing anything worthwhile this morning, but my fellow bloggers have a bunch of commentary going on.
Take for instance Hugh Hewitt over at Townhall.com.
Read that piece, if you will, then if you have the time take a look at this discussion of what the islamofascist Arab bastards have done to contribute to history.
OK, I want a three page, single spaced report on my desk by Monday morning telling me what you learned.
Dammit
I'm distracted, I'm pissed off, and I'm having trouble writing anything worthwhile this morning, but my fellow bloggers have a bunch of commentary going on.
Take for instance Hugh Hewitt over at Townhall.com.
Read that piece, if you will, then if you have the time take a look at this discussion of what the islamofascist Arab bastards have done to contribute to history.
OK, I want a three page, single spaced report on my desk by Monday morning telling me what you learned.
Dammit
