Friday, December 30, 2005

100

This entry makes one hundred posts. Here are my top five favorites:

1. Happy Daddy,
2. My Wife, Calamity Jane,
3. My Old Friend,
4. More of the booglet,
5. Anthropic Principle vs. ID


This has been fun. Happy New Year to everyone. Be safe.

Thursday, December 29, 2005


Caption this

Auld Lang Syne

Should auld acquaintance be forgot
And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And auld lang syne?
Chorus

For auld lang syne, my jo,
For auld lang syne,
We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.

And surely ye'll be your pint-stoup,
And surely I'll be mine;
And we'll tak' a cup o' kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.
For auld, etc.

We twa hae run about the braes,
And pou'd the gowans fine;
But we've wander'd mony a weary fit,
Sin' auld lang syne.
For auld, etc.

We twa hae paidl'd in the burn,
Frae morning sun till dine;
But seas between us braid hae roar'd.
Sin' auld lang syne.
For auld, etc.

And there's a hand, my trusty fiere!
And gie's a hand o' thine!
And we'll tak' a right gud-wellie waught,
For auld lang syne.
For auld, etc.

I'm gonna play this Friday night at a campfire my wife is doing. We got a gig! It's a melancholy tune but fun to play. The melody lends itself to improvisation like a blank sheet of paper lends itself to doodling.

The hummingbird is getting all primed up...

Wednesday, December 28, 2005

Social Security

Tonight was a good night. I had a late afternoon soiree (the kind of gumshoe work that my profession occasionally lends itself to quite nicely). I got done and the path home was much quicker and less congested traffic-wise than the way back to work. So Daddy got home with plenty of daylight, even on a dead winter’s day. I arrived in time to watch the little one and her Mother as they were swinging on the new “big girl” swing. Daddy of course soon took over swinging duty and the little astronaut was quickly thereafter catapulting into the cosmos. Later, she fell onto her back in the damp, brown dormant grass and stared up into the sky; an airplane was leaving contrails in the sharp blue above.

“That Daddy up there,” she said. You have to communicate with a two year old to understand sometimes what they are trying to express.

I said, “Yep, that’s just like Daddy flying way up high in an airplane.” The jet left a cold white streak in the air behind it. I couldn’t tell her that usually flying in an airplane meant I was leaving her, even for a night, and it was no fun to me. But, if she was cool with knowing her Daddy flew way up high and was willing to trade a night away, who was I to wonder?

So we played and played, until it was time to go in, giving the buggies their due. Even now, in the coldest winter we can manage, there are mosquitoes and midges. We retreated to the house and set off for the fresh breeze over the water. We walked down, along the bay’s edge and toward the boat ramp. Mullet jumped with impunity, like silver ballerinas, along the shoreline. The late afternoon sun’s rays turned the bay metallic orange, then purple. My daughter rode on my shoulders and we watched the crazy man fly a parachute with a lawn mower attached to his butt, all along the bay’s edge. He turned later and climbed up into the evening sky, toward the little private airstrip on the other side of the peninsula.

Now it’s later. The booglet has gone to bed and her Mother is close behind. I break out my letter from the government—specifically, from the Social Security Administration. It’s even signed by Jo Anne B. Barnhart, “Commissioner.” It’s my annual greeting from the government “Prepared especially for jemison.” So I read it… In fact, let’s read it together, won’t you...come along with me…just to see…what the Social Security Administration has to say? Sure, I knew you would…

The first page is full of propaganda, advising:

· Social Security is for people of all ages,
· Work to build a secure future, and (most chilling),
· About Social Security’s future.

Here are the sentences I clued in on:

“But now, the Social Security system is facing serious future financial problems, and action is needed soon to make sure that the system is sound when today’s younger workers are ready for retirement.” (Read, me).

Oh my God! No, sorry, I’m not surprised. I’ve heard this all my adult life. Sad thing is, back twenty years ago it would have been easier to craft a solution. But the problem was for another day. Only so many “other days” until you’re there.

Next sentence, (don’t worry, I underlined them so I wouldn’t forget):

“Unless action is taken soon to strengthen Social Security, in just 12 years we will begin paying more benefits than we collect in taxes. Without changes, by 2041* the Social Security Trust Fund will be exhausted.”

*Even here the dates (which I calculated as the dates I would get some honey) are “produced by the actuaries at the Social Security Administration based on the intermediate assumptions from the Social Security Trustee’s Annual Report to Congress.”

Way too many variables there. Anyway, I calculate I get to drain the system by receiving my benefits for eleven years…maybe a few more…maybe a few less.

Finally:

“We will need to resolve these issues soon to make sure Social Security continues to provide a foundation of protection [their metaphor—I like it] for future generations as it has done in the past.”

We? We? I’m paying my taxes. I have a job, thank you. Your job is to make the system work ‘like it has in the past.’ How come it becomes ‘we’ when there’s a problem? There was no ‘we’ when the government was spending my taxes. There was no ‘we’ when the government set my ‘potential benefits.’ Now it’s all ‘we.’ How ‘bout you made this problem, you fix it…

But, like any good Birthday card, the best was inside. There, in dollars and cents, was my reward: if I die, get disabled, or live long enough to get free prescriptions and medical care. Oh the money, the money! Still, here, in bold lettering no less, was this warning:

“Your estimated benefits are based on current law. Congress has made changes to the law in the past and can do so at any time. The law governing benefit amounts may change because, by 2041, the payroll taxes collected will be enough to pay only 74 percent of scheduled benefits.”

And here’s the joke. Congress, not this one or the next, but some Congress soon, fully funded in its generous pension plan outside of Social Security, may one day say, “jemison, sorry, we know we sent you that great Birthday card, but we didn’t mean it. You will have to make do with what you got. Your money? Well, like George Bailey said, you’re money’s not here, it’s in Mr. Frist’s HMO and Mr. Santorum’s faith-based kindergarten. You understand don’t you?”

So I’ll be contributing to my Roth IRA before year’s end…

And to my little one, I ask:

“Will you still need me?
Will you still feed me?
When I’m sixty four.”

Tuesday, December 27, 2005

It's the Little Things

On Christmas day, my daughter was probably most amazed that Santa and Rudolph ate the cookies and milk we left out for them than anything else. It was funny, we put the treats together and I proposed leaving them next to the fireplace. My daughter wanted them outside on the porch--I think she was okay with Santa coming in the house to leave things, just not hanging around and eating.

Hypocrits

hypocrisy (hi-pok'ri-se) n., pl. ies. 1. The practice of professing beliefs, feelings, or virtues that one does not hold or possess; insincerity.

The President states that his powers to eavesdrop on American citizens come "from the Constitution." I wonder what some "strict constructionists" would say about that.

Thursday, December 22, 2005

The Christmas Story

The Wise Men

[No one remembers the names of the Wise Men so I've decided to call them Larry, Moe, and Curly.]

[The setting: an observatory in the Far East]

LARRY: "What's that?"

MOE: "What's what?"

LARRY: "There, (pointing to the east at a star) that."

CURLY: "Whoop whoop whoop!"

MOE: "I've never seen it before. No wanderers [planets] are due there."

LARRY: "Alright you wise guys! Who's been messin' with my settings?"

CURLY: "Whoop whoop whoop!"

LARRY: "Aww you knuckleheads. Let's go to sleep."

[As the three wise men sleep, they are told in their dreams the star in the east is a harbinger of a great king being born. The next morning around coffee...]

LARRY: "You know, I heard something last night..."

MOE: "Me too."

CURLY: "Whoop whoop whoop." (Blows a horn).

LARRY: "I'm thinking this star aint exactly nothin' ordinary. It's a sign we should witness"

MOE: "I was thinkin' just the same thing...'cept I heard there's a king comin'. Who's king? What country?"

CURLY: "Whoop whoop whoop." (Gurgles some horn bubbbles into his cereal.)

LARRY: "I think he's a king for all countries...I don't know. I just think we should go. Wouldn't hurt to take some goodies either."

[Off go the three wise men, traveling the spice route loaded with frankincense and myrrh with camels and caravans and silk carpets and goat's meat. Gold, oh yeah, got that too. They traverse long stretches, always watching a star in the east,shining stubbornly and brightly: brighter than any planet or comet any had seen before. They arrive in Judea and are greeted warmly by Herod, ruler under the Roman Empire.]

HEROD: "Greetings my guests. What news do you bring from the East?"

LARRY: "The news is good...taxes are down, the economy is good, and our Gods smile on us. Our enemies cringe, our allies rejoice. It's all good."

CURLY: "Whoop whoop whooop."

HEROD: "I have news there is a king born under this moon, a Jew to rule the world."

MOE: "Jew? Never heard of him. Does he sing?"

LARRY: "Ruler eh? How'd you hear about that?"

HEROD: "It was a dream. My sages informed me this could threaten my rule."

LARRY: "Hey, wait a minute! Aint we lookin for the same ruler?"

HEROD: "Find him...(thinking silently) and bring back to this court news of his birth...we'll all give thanks."

[The wise men set our once again, guided by the extraordinary light. Just as it seemed to shift it would again shine steady and clear, ever guiding. After several turns through densely populated streets, thick with the taxpayers met by royal decree, the three wise men walked for quite some time, passing rich fields of barley and oats, cows basking in the night's light, until they saw an inn, humble and road worn. Several shepherds stand around near a stable. An ass brayes beligerently.]

MOE: "Hey boys!I think we found our king. (Sniffing the air), He's really kickin'!"

CURLY: "Whoop whoop whoop."

The Christmas Story
The Shepherds

[The setting--a small hillside in the boondocks]

SHEPHERD #1, (shivering), "Dude, it's so cold!"

SHEPHERD #2, (scratching a lamb underneath its chin), "Later we'll build a fire, and I have dried beef we can chew while you practice on the sitar."

SHEPHERD #1, "I think my fingers are frozen. The sitar will be cold as ice razors."

SHEPHERD #2, (laughing), "Your fingers have endured much worse. Besides, I have wine to stave off the cold. But have you noticed to the east, the sun's glow should have faded but there persists a light. Moreso, as the sky clears, I see it is from a star. But no planets are due in this space for several more months."

SHEPHERD #3, (running up a hill towards the two breathless), "Guys, there's this...this...(he gestures behind him, pointing repeatedly for emphasis).

[Moving up the hillside is a luminous presence, a bright source of light outshining the stars. It moves slowly, brightening the hillside and greening the grass beneath its light. Flowers brighten and colors come alive after being touched by its light. The light becomes a small child, beautiful and fragile. The child speaks clearly.]

ANGEL: "Fear not, for I bring tidings of great joy!"

SHEPHERDS, (in unison) "Whoa...Dude.Do.You.See.What.I.See?"

ANGEL: "Guys, I'm here to tell you. There's more than your jam session going on tonight. Something's happening. You want to be in?"

SHEPERD #1, (bathed in the Angel's light), "We are so in...are you taking us there? Where are you from?"

ANGEL: "I'm from two thousand years in your future. I'm here to witness this too."

SHEPERD #2: "What do you mean you're from two thousand years in our future?"

ANGEL: "I was given a free pass to watch this. I was given this part in the play. I am here to give you hope." (whispering conspiratorily), "there is something to hope for..."

[The Angel shines brightly, illuminating the hillside, and the hillside comes alive with sounds of small children singing. The Shepherds watch, rapt, as the heavenly chorus echoes over the countryside singing ‘Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to men on whom his favor rests.' The Angel smiles as the song fades and the lights swirl around.]

ANGEL: "This is better than any play I got to be in." (turning to the shepherds), “Okay, (clearing her throat) today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord. This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger."

SHEPHERDS: “A manger? Our Savior is born in a manger?”

ANGEL: “He prefers a low key entrance. (smiling) You’ll understand later. For now, I’m telling you to go and see this child brought into the world to save all mankind.”

[And once again the hillside was filled with other worldly rejoicing. The young Angel looked about and said softly to herself, “Ms. McCreedle’s plays never had these props.” When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, "Let's go to Bethlehem and see this thing that has happened, which the Lord has told us about."]

Wednesday, December 21, 2005

The Christmas Story
The Donkey
Dude, my back is killin' me! This is no regular woman. I've toted women from Galilee to Caesarea but this one is fat with child... The baby squirms in her belly, kicking and spinning so hard even I can feel it in my ribs. Her husband walks ahead and talks to himself quite a lot. But he's kind, and patient. He's strong too, determined to obey this crazy government order. The family of David they are from I was told while being fitted with blankets. They have carried themselves so; noble if impoverished, the echoing of greatness in their silent majesty.

So we finally get to Bethlehem and I'm so tired, just wanting to get this ripe woman off me. But things are chaotic; there's a lot of people. Taxes are due and there is rumbling, combined with the spectacle of multitudes brought together by government decree. We go to several places looking for quarters. Finally, in a rather humble spot, we find space. The woman gets off. I eat. We rest in the calm cold...

The night is exceptionally bright. There is a star I haven't noticed. It bathes the stable with a cold, bright light. Animals are all around me, cows softly chewing their cud, sitting next to broad-shouldered oxen. I bury my head into the oats.

I'm tired but I can't sleep. Something's going on.

The woman is birthing her child...

Tuesday, December 20, 2005

Guest Blogger
Very busy today so I need to turn things over to my favorite guest blogger, The Chairman.

So without further ado, take it away Mr. Chairman.

U.S. imperialism invaded China's territory of Taiwan and has occupied it for the past nine years. A short while ago it sent its armed forces to invade and occupy Lebanon. The United States has set up hundreds of military bases in many countries all over the world. China's territory of Taiwan, Lebanon and all military bases on foriegn soil are so many nooses round the neck of U.S. imperialism. The nooses have been fashioned by the Americans themselves and by nobody else, and it is they them selves [sic] who have put these nooses round their own necks, handing the ends of the ropes to the Chinese peoples, the peoples of the Arab countries and all the peoples of the world who love peace and oppose aggression. The longer the U.S. aggressors remain in those places, the tighter the nooses round their necks will become.
(Speech at the Supreme State Conference September 8, 1958)

Chairman, you never got to see the rise of Walmart!

Monday, December 19, 2005

Painting


They say the Christmas story is basically about a child who comes into the world to offer us hope.

I know exactly what they mean.

Friday, December 16, 2005

Of Grinch's, Finches, and this time of the Year
Tonight was the annual Grinch party. My daughter has been looking forward to this since yesterday afternoon. Now she got to watch her cousins frolic in the adult world that was the party, with several people watching at all times...

Two mornings ago (after my marathon run), I watched small (finches?)Fringillidae, I don't now who else gather and scatter through the yard, like small schools of fish.

I like that this time of year offers cover to sneak out for special purposes. Oh, my little ones (Mommies included), Daddy's on special runs.

Time Capsule
As the year 2005 winds down, I thought a time capsule would be in order. A snapshot of these times. Assume the capsule won't be opened until 2105, long after anyone reading this post is dust.

I'd suggest the following articles:

1) An iPod
2) A New Orleans Mardi Gras poster
3) A moonpie
4) A discussion paper on "Intelligent Design"
5) A current world map (just in case the shorelines have changed).
6) A credit card
7) A Blackberry
8) The "National Strategy for Victory in Iraq" official US publication
9) One tablet each of Viagra, Prozac, and Vioxx
10) Small samples of DNA for manatees, Siberian tigers, and Panda Bears (just in case)

Any other suggestions?

Thursday, December 15, 2005

Caption This
And remember this is a family blog...no use of the word, in any variations, nipple.
But do be creative...

____________
This idea shamelessly stolen from Mia Culpa.

Wednesday, December 14, 2005

Muses v. Muses
Last night I had the option of practicing guitar or writing. Sorry.

I just have one quick observation though. I don't get cable TV so I miss many of the blowhards ranting about this or that depending on ratings and which personality has a trial coming up. Still, this "War on Christmas" nonsense has bled into my small realm. I suppose we get this garbage when we allow talking heads to shape our national conversation.

First, is this becoming a regular holiday exercise, like watching "A Charlie Brown Christmas" or "How the Grinch Stole Christmas?"

Second, I for one am not looking to the check out girl at a box retail outlet store for affirmation of my beliefs. Is anyone? If so, I'd suggest some major meditation on the season's message. If you think forcing some poor associate earning minimum wage to say Merry Christmas to you is going to brighten the season then may I humbly suggest you are, oh I don't know, bat-shit crazy?

Even Jesus told his disciples upon sending them out into the world, if you are not received well, shake off the dust from your sandals and move on. He didn't say stay there and force them to comply with your convictions.

Lastly, this debate, much like other cultural crises, is manufactured by people who desperately want the public not to focus on bigger issues: healthcare, the deficit, or perhaps our little soiree into Iraq. Just a few days ago there was an article in the NY Times which talked about the coming healthcare crisis when public governments must, because of changes in GAAP (Generally Accepted Accounting Principles), start truly funding the healthcare promises made to their employees. No one is talking about this and it will have a much larger impact on my life than whether the gal at Target (which I avoid like the plague anyway) says Merry Christmas to me or not.

But now I have an idea--faith-based healthcare...huh? huh? Mull it over my dear friends. It may just be the solution to all our problems.

Tuesday, December 13, 2005

The Grassy Knoll
Oswald must have been one hell of a shot. I got to explore this area yesterday on my whirlwind tour. The place still echoes of evil, like a lingering foul smell. Leaving the city, I took Elm street out, driving over the small X's on the road and feeling faintly nervous of the perch behind me.

Monday, December 12, 2005

Travel Day
So this was an 18 hour day... Four planes, three cities, two time zones, and one cab ride. Left the booglet and her mother sleeping warm and cozy this morning; coming back with everyone asleep again. Here now thanks to the wi-fi at Atlanta Hartsfield International Airport.

I'm not complaining. Santa's coming. On Saturday, Mommy and Daddy and the booglet went to cut down our very own Christmas tree. We took Bubba way up into the country and found a great tree. We brought it home and put up lights. Now we're set.

I just love seeing the holidays through the eyes of a two year old. The magic is there. She's so excited. Now I have to figure out what to get her mother. Here's when you know you live on the Gulf Coast--I told her she could either get Lasix surgery or storm windows...she chose the storm windows.

I'm not complaining--I'm getting tired of dragging around a half ton of plywood myself.

My friend Zack is giving the booglet a minature guitar. Six strings, all the frets, just smaller for little fingers. I'll show you all the chords my little one, and together we'll play "Bob Diddle" and Van Morrison. I can't wait.

It's a very generous gift from Zack.

Friday, December 09, 2005

Of Yule Logs, Blogs, and our Days Together
Tonight I used old newspapers rolled up from last year's Christmas lights to start the grill. The paper was dry, having been sealed from a year ago. It burned well. Tomorrow we get this year's tree. It was like my own yule log. Learn more about the festival: read about the traditions, the tree, the gifts, and the yule log.

So, my little one, I don't know how much more I have to say. I guess I'll think of something...maybe I'll think of something. I'll let you know. I don't want to want to start repeating myself. I wonder how old you'll be when you read this...what you'll think. I hope you remember these moments as I have; I hope you at least remember them.

Until then, let's enjoy our time together.

Tomorrow, let's bundle up in Bubba and trek out into the country.
Let's cut a tree down, take it home and put lights over it.
Next year, I'll pull the newspapers from the lights and remember all to come,
Santa, baby Jesus, The Nutcracker, family, bells, crisp cold nights,
my yule log,
our days together...

Thursday, December 08, 2005

Cold
54 degrees and rainy tonight. Just got done working--at home. I hate polluting the castle with work but while the booglet and her mother slumber I can be more productive.

Last night, while riding the bike/walking Chester, I noticed across the bay a bright light. At first I thought it was the moon coming out from the clouds, which were already positioned for this steady drenching. Then I realized the moon was setting in the west, behind me. The light was a flare. Not just you average, one shot one spot of light flare. It was an impressive pyrotechnic shower of light that lasted longer than any firework I’ve ever seen. Then I realized it was my tax dollars at work.

Across the bay is a wilderness area used by the military for, well, I guess whatever they want. The land is wild, with deer, rattlesnakes the size of your legs, and black bears. I’ve seen the deer and rattlesnakes; the bears I’m giving the benefit of the doubt. I know survival training goes on over there. I’ve seen parachutes raining down from large, lumbering transports like ellipses in the sky. And bombing, lots of bombing goes on over there. It rumbles across the bay some evenings until late at night like deadly thunder.

I sometimes wonder how terrifying it must be to hear the rumbling of bombing when it’s not an exercise, when you’re not warm and cozy in your house knowing they’re not coming for you. I can’t imagine this fosters any good will toward us. See, we’ve been raised a generation a video gamers, adept at pushing buttons and zapping enemies. What we’ve forgotten is empathy for our fellow man, and tolerance for anything different from our comfort zone. We are the best the world has ever seen at destruction. We’re lousy at lifting up our fellow man, setting aside our differences and working toward a common goal—peace and prosperity for all.

For those who may think I’m a soft liberal who doesn’t understand that there are people out there who want to destroy our way of life, I ask, why? Why would they be so afraid of us? I don’t buy the tripe that they hate our freedom—everyone loves freedom—it’s the innate desire to be left alone. I can’t believe they despise our wealth—almost everyone desires wealth too. And wealth is not a zero sum game. I think there are some in the world who are scared of our military might and our reckless use of it to get our way. It may work until our guns are turned the other way, but then there’s a reckoning to come. You can’t arrest everyone. You can’t shoot everyone. We can’t make enough bullets to force the world to embrace us.

Instead, what if we used our considerable wealth and knowledge to make the world a better place? What if we put as much effort into eradicating diseases, lessening pollution, heck, even making airline food palatable. That would bring about more admiration than the threat of bombs falling. But that is even harder than flying a successful sortie. Still, just like my work tonight, which I had been putting off because it seemed so daunting, once I started it was easier. Like what Bob Dylan said:

What looks large from a distance,
Close up aint never that big
.”

Wednesday, December 07, 2005

I Remember

Rotary phones;
President Nixon resigning and watching Saturday morning kids’ facts about our new President Ford and how he liked ketchup on eggs;
When people smoked on airplanes, in malls: everywhere;
The first shuttle, Enterprise, being tested from the back of a Boeing 747;
Gas for $.59 per gallon;
Disco, bell-bottoms and hip huggers the first time around;
The Bicentennial;
A time before ATMs, when, if you wanted money for the weekend, you had to get to the bank on Friday before it closed;
When McDonalds signs had a number of millions served;
The day John Lennon was shot, the Challenger exploded, and Mt. St. Helens erupted;
The Miami Dolphins' perfect season;
When my aunt and cousin were killed in hurricane Camille;
The Iranian hostage crisis;
The first MTV video;
When HBO came on in the evening only;
Datsuns (the car, not the dog);
The Iran Contra hearings, sitting in my first apartment watching that hot summer while tapping away at a science fiction novel;
The Soviet Union;

I remember the night your mother told me we were going to have a baby. I wrote this:
1/3/2003

"Tonight I learned you existed. There are too many feelings for me to try to express so it’s best to say ‘tonight I learned you existed.’ There will be so much more to talk about…Happy New Year.”

The next day I wrote this:
1/4/2003

“It’s a clear, calm and very cold January morning, quiet as a thief. Ice crystals twinkle along the railing like diamonds. I saw the red morning sun appear over the bay, now gone to sparkling the water for me and Chester.

This morning I devoured an article on quasars. What are quasars might you ask my little inquisitive one? Well, they’re a subset of active galactic nuclei; more specifically and from their acronym Quasi-Stellar Radio Sources, they are the “exhaust”, if you will of black holes. It occurs to me writing this that quasars have been discovered about as long as your father has been alive. You’ll no doubt have much more information to guide your understanding when you’re my age…back to this glorious morning made possible by our own stellar object.

Everything looks different today, and I understand now that nothing will be the same again. Your mother understood that last night watching me pull in. She knew of course—the prerogative of women—and got to decide how she would tell me. She said she thought of how she was about to tell me something that would change my life forever. In her gentle and loving style (you’re going to love her) she wrapped up a baby book and a pregnancy test (positive of course, I re-checked it this morning).

I haven’t stopped thinking about you since…”


You know, thinking about a morning around the house without the booglet seems alien now.

"Oh, this old world keeps spinning ‘round,
It’s a wonder tall trees aint laying down."

Neil Young

UPDATE: I also remember "A Day which will live in infamy!" Happy Birthday Zack.

Tuesday, December 06, 2005

Fun with Dick and Jane
The Booglet is sick tonight, runny nose, feverish and wanting a lot of book time. Okay sweetheart, Daddy will read whatever you want.

“Dick and Jane,” she says in that little voice that would make me do anything. Eat glass honey? Sure, watch Daddy. Mmmmm, I’ll chew this up and spit you out some beads.

So Dick and Jane it is. For those of you born while Reagan was president, you may never have actually seen a Dick and Jane reader. These maddeningly repetitive stories teach reading through rote memorization of word forms—I know, I read them in school. Now I’m reading them again.

“Up Puff. Up, up up.”

“Oh oh oh. Funny funny Puff.” Ugh. This is killing me but my daughter loves them and she’s so quiet except for her little sniffly nose, burying her head into my shoulder while twisting her blankie with her little hands. I read dutifully, adding color to the otherwise dry storyline.

My mind drifts while my mouth works. Baby Sally would be close to fifty years old by now. Father and Mother would be long dead, passing along their worldly goods to their heirs, Dick, Jane and Baby Sally. I imagine Dick becoming a speech pathologist, Jane a licensed mental health counselor (she always seems to be the pacifier between Mother and Baby Sally). But Sally. Sally’s harder to get a handle on. Cute kid, the baby. I imagine Sally working in New York for a major brokerage firm as in-house counsel in charge of mergers and acquisitions. She occasionally jets back to the Midwest to humor her older brother Dick and her older sister Jane, all the while berating them for living in a red state. Sally’s single, never having settled down for a family. She’s got a high seven figure retirement fund, stock options in the money, and a healthy bonus each year. She likes her martinis—dry. About this time of year she takes off for two weeks and goes down to St. Thomas USVI to enjoy her timeshare, to catch up on reading and to SCUBA dive. She’s still attractive but waning in that way that sells botox injections and eyelid work. She’s thinking about it at pilates…

Funny funny Sally.

Monday, December 05, 2005

An Open Letter to the Lord of the Wasps
I have no quarrel with you or your subjects. Live and let live is my motto. Frankly, your species rarely crosses my mind. So you're probably wondering why two of them have departed prematurely and entered larger insect life at my hands...

I can just imagine their angry incriminations, punctuated by mangled antennae waving around. But, were I there at the wasp pearly gates (or whatever you have--yes, I'm sure it's nice), I would have to say they were warned. I'd also add that I didn't start this.

After the hurricane, there was a section of the screen porch blown out. I'm sure you, being the all-knowing Lord of the wasps, are well aware this afforded easy access to the porch where I retreat for respite from the brutish world. Good screens make for good neighbors though, and when this barrier between our two species was brought down, chaos ensued. See, I can't enjoy my porch in the manner I've become accustomed to with these little poisonous dive bombers not just around but actually flying sorties over my head. You must understand. It would be like you trying to relax at an Orkin convention.

So this breach was temporarily fixed and then finally replaced two weeks ago. Imagine my suprise today when I found two of your minions violating the newly reestablished no-fly zone. This was no minor infraction I could ignore; I had to make an example of them.

May I suggest a compromise before this escalates out of control? They are building a new place down the road. Easy access, waterview, and, best of all--no one will be moving in for several months as the construction continues. Perhaps you could direct a little Polistes vespidae Moses to lead your people over there where they may live out their lives free from my aggression.

P.S. Please don't tell the Lord of the Mosquitoes--he thinks I'm a mass murderer.

Friday, December 02, 2005

Joshua Tree National Park
Me doing my best Holdie-Outie.

Must get crackin', JLA and the new Mrs. are coming to town today, (Dude, we're gettin' the band back together!) There will be lots of jamming no doubt and some feasting. For those of you who don't live near the Gulf Coast, I can only try to describe the pleasure of sweet bay shrimp, Penaeus setiferus, and blackened grouper, Epinephelus striatus, grilled over a fire with good friends standing around.

I'd love to be able to record some of the jam sessions this weekend and put them up for consumption as well. Pictures seem to be out of the question for Zack, who may well be wanted somewhere for high crimes and misdemeanors. No matter, we've been practicing and the Hummingbird is ready to go.

Last night after I got home the booglet was fussing. We wrapped up in blankies and sat out on the porch, talking softly and waiting for the coon to come out and get his corn. Yes, Chester was inside, oblivious so we stood a fighting chance. We listened and sat quietly, enjoying each other's warmth. I got lots of good snuggly-bugglies.

Thursday, December 01, 2005

Dark Shadows
You know, this started innocently enough. I was just reading an article in The New York Times called "Feeding the Beast." It was about the lack of electricity still plaguing New Orleans. The 'beasts' are the generators that need to be fed gasoline throughout all hours.

But the 'beast' part caught my eye. It brought up memories from long ago of late night campaigns against evil fueled by Mountain Dew and tumblin' dice. Then I noticed the picture along with the article. It doesn't take any special magical powers to pick out the spirit here does it? There it is lurking between the three cars.

So, can we all agree good and evil both inhabit our space-time? Surely the scenes from last summer in New Orleans conjured up visions of evil.

Can we also agree there is evil lurking in the shadows?

So, do you see it?

I suggested to someone yesterday that it was an evil spirit caught in the shadows by the camera, lazing around in the still dank, now cold Louisiana evening.

Oh, and for anyone just stumbling across this blog in search of gothic ramblings; um, well, I think this is about it...