Eewww factor high on this one......I caught a piece of a story on the radio about 4:30 this morning on the way to work, regarding the pretty colored fruit on the bottom of Yoplait Raspberry Yogurt, and ruby red grapefruit juice. Seems they don't come by those bright red hues quite so naturally. Need a bit of a boost in the pigmentation department to spiff 'em up and make them look all the more tasty, they do. Turns out that the most effective and safe coloring agent for these products, comes from a little cactus eating female beetle from south of the border known as Dactylopius coccus.
By the way, they also use this dye in shampoo, candy, and many other products as well.
Credit the Aztecs and Mexican indigenous tribes for discovering this little bug, and the Spaniards for capitalizing on it.

Yes Birddog - I Snopes'd this one. Like I said - 8.5 eewww factor. Probably pegs the needle on the PETA (people eating tasty animals) meter too, considering it takes about 70,000 of these ladybugs to make a pound of dye.
I'd love to hammer on this one more, but it's time to head downstairs to the Greasy Spoon for a yogurt and some grapefruit juice.........

Read about your breakfast here:
http://www.snopes.com/food/...

Just copy and paste it in your browser please, the link insertion feature seems to be on the blink this morning.........

Obituaries - death notices. Do you read them on a regular basis, or just in passing, in case there is something else on the page? I read them daily, starting with the Advocate, then the Chronicle, then the Austin Statesman. Pretty much covers the places and people I have lived among since 1959.

Some might say, eeewwww, that's like, so morbid. No, it's not. I am not always kept abreast of deaths back home, so many times, it's my only way of finding out when a friend (or foe) has passed. In the last three years, I have been to two funerals of young ladies, here in the city, daughters of old friends. One was a murder victim. actually, the same could be said for the other - she was struck by a drunk driver, standing by her disabled vehicle here on the side of a freeway. In the second case, her obit photo got my attention, rather than her last name, which was unfamiliar to me. She looked familiar, though I had never met her. Upon reading, I saw the name of her mother and father, old friends of mine from Seadrift, and realized that I was seeing her mother Lynda in the face in the picture.

The point I am trying to make I guess, is that if someone meant enough to you in your life to be a friend (or foe), that you should be there for them, and to pay your respects when they or their loved ones pass on.

By the same token, (here comes the foe part that you might have wondered about), occasionally in our lives, someone will pass through and make it their mission in life to make ours miserable, if only for a while. I can think of only one such person at the moment. A former lawman, a legend in his own mind. He was mean, a bully and a philanderer, and went out of his way to make more lives than just mine unbearable. You have heard the phrase "I'll dance on your grave" I assume?

Well Mr. Wyatt Earp wannabe, you broken down old piece, unless you outlive me, I have a surprise for you. Remember all those times you combed my floorboards looking for even a seed? Remember dragging me off a boat and taking me to jail for my motorcycle muffler being defective, all the while promising to cut my hair, asking me "do long haired hippies squat to pee?"

Guess what, broken ranger? I saved a few seeds that you overlooked. I am not going to dance on your grave. On the contrary, I plan to do me some farming on that plot. It will have a steady supply of horses%$t for fertilizer. It won't be daisies or carnations. How did Don Henley sing it? Warm smell of......... I have no need for that sort of harvest these days however - maybe the locals will find it tasty.

Forewarned is forearmed. Consider the pyre. Save the space for someone who deserves it!

Wow, where to start? My heart says to gush forth with what an awesome show I am watching/listening to as a backdrop while I write - the Roy Orbison, PBS, Black and White Concert. To be sure, a who's who cast of contempory songwriters, singers, and musicians, accompanying the master through his catalog of masterpieces.

I called my oldest in, to try and impress upon him, the virtues of the music - my music, real music. Not only was it the guy who wrote Blue Bayou, and Mean Woman Blues, it was Jackson, Bonnie, The Boss, K.D., Elvis (Costello, not the King), Tom Waits, and too many more to list.

Alas, he lasted about a minute, before squirming away with a "see ya, dad".

Takes me back many years, to when I was a lad, enamored with some surfer, hot rod songs and a certain band of mop tops from the U.K., who would change music forever. But wait - there was this old guy, bent on making sure I knew what "real music" was. I was sat down and forced to listen to 78's of "Big Band" music - In The Mood, Chattanooga Choo Choo(by the way, please don't try asking: "pardon me boy, is that the Medical Center train" around here, if you want to make it home unperforated). You get my drift here? I think I lasted a few more minutes before saying "see ya dad", than my kid did. Come to think of it, I probably worded my request to be excused in a different way, conscious all the while, of the feel of a skinny belt across my ***.

My Lord, I shudder to think what Stephen's children will be listening to and on what type of device, when he drags them in to listen to Hillary Duff or whatever is down the road for his teen years.........

When I flushed him away from the computer, to sit down and start this story, he was trying to find the guitar chords for "Hollywood Girls" by Josh and Drake. Being the take charge kinda guy I am, I horned in and googled Hollywood Girls for him. Anyone care to venture a guess at the nature of the pings I got, googling for "Hollywood Girls"????? Kinda looked like the cyber version of the "Stag" magazines that my old man used to hide in his boxers/socks drawer, on the bottom - under the paper. Google at your own risk!

I'll take another stab at finding his guitar chords tomorrow. I'm kinda glad he split when he did. Otherwise, he would have seen his dad with tears rolling down his cheeks when Roy was doing "Pretty Woman" and "Mean Woman Blues", with the other stars of what to me, is contemporary music, strumming along and choking back tears, themselves.

Music - like baseball and the Stars and Stripes, it is a common thread through ours, and our ancestors and our childrens lives. Victrolas, 45's with the adapter, reel to reel, 8-tracks, vinyl, CD's, Ipod, transistor radios on the bus on the way to a ballgame in Halletsville...............

Mercy, Sweet dreams Baby.

For Mike and Wayno, for Destiny and Steve H. & Tatterrsail, and Annie and Nancy, Michael Stanley and Cheryl Dilcher, and Shawn Phillips, and Johnny Dee and the Rocket 88's, for Tim Oi, for Carlos, and Raul Malo, and Reckless Kelly and Guy Clark and Robert Earl and Willie, for Gram and for Jerry Garcia, and Peter Paul and Mary, and Barry McGuire and JIm McGuinn, and Mama Cass and yes, Karen Carpenter and John Denver.....Thank You - your songs live on.

Things are changing as we forge ahead, but the kids are alright!

Did anyone read the account of the execution of the old Choctaw, Clarence Ray Allen? Loon did a piece on him a couple of days ago. I think the term he used was "mean looking old bastard". Truth is, he WAS a mean old bastard, despite the publishing of a couple of photos of him in a headband looking like a pathetic old chief about to be unjustly led to his death. I saw another photo of him, a younger version, with a smug expression on his face and an automatic weapon in his hands. That's who was executed, a modern murdering thug, not Sitting Bull. I read he, in the end was in better health than he claimed - took two snorts of potassium chloride to bag him. Maybe a good argument for going back to the electric chair. Nah, forget the chair. If we're going to use the death penalty as a deterrent, let's do it wholesale, and use electric bleachers, and raise some eyebrows, huh?

Wanna hear the ironic part about the old chief's demise? Having had a history of heart problems, he requested that should he have a heart attack before the execution, he be allowed to die. Prison official Vernell Crittendon's response? (I swear - it's a quote): "At no point, are we not going to value the sanctity of life". " We would resuscitate him, then execute him". We wouldn't want God to intervene, and deprive the witnesses of their morbid due, now would we?

A while back, JB did a piece in her blog on Freecycle. Just an update from my end of the table here. While I will admit that the majority of items offered up on my area Freecycle site, are of little or no interest to me, and require a constant deletion of e-mails, as evidenced by this picture, there are some interesting items there as well.





Yep, found a freebie sailboat. I just need a license for the trailer, a new sail, and I'll be well on my way to spending the better part of a summer, learning to right a capsized boat and drinking bay water. Help! If there are any sailors among you, I fear I will be in dire need of a sailmaker and some basic instructions soon.........

For more info on Freecycle, see JB's old blog "Don't throw away. Give Away." or go to Freecycle Thanks again, JB. Oh, BTW - as you can see this is docked next to my house, as the garage is full of go-karts and bicycles. Obviously, relocation to the bay needs to be done pretty pronto. Otherwise, the Yard Nazis are gonna be on my butt like a duck on a junebug!

Get your attention? My bad - tell your mother it was just intended to be an attention grabbing title.

I have stayed away from bush (lower case intended) bashing lately, because it has become like shooting fish in a barrel.

I'll venture into the Middle East fray here for a bit though. A friend/brother sent me an e-mail this AM that supposedly quoted Oliver North, relating his fear of what a threat one Osama Bin Laden was to our safety and security, during his testimony at the Iran Contra (papa bush - ring a bell?) hearings. Upon further investigation, it turns out that that e-mail is like many other internet hoaxes or half truths. He actually was speaking of Abu Nidal, the coward who boarded a Mediterranean cruise ship, and tossed a helpless, wheelchair bound, Jewish passenger, Leon Klinghoffer overboard to his death.

My friend's e-mail was well intentioned, and furthermore, right on target as intended. It's, without question, pretty clear cut, that a segment of Islam, albeit a radical segment, would like to see us all dead. They don't want our lifestyle, our land, our oil(as we do theirs) our Hummers, or our WWF, NFL, NBA, or Miss America contestants for their harems. They just want us gone - as do we them.

They have inflicted upon our generation, a "Pearl Harbor", only in NYC on 9/11/01, not as a nation, but as a faction - a ghost segment of a religion.

Gut instinct, would be to say f*ck 'em. Nuke all of them, and let God sort 'em out, huh? My God, don't you know Bush would love to have that option? He or dear old dad would have done it years ago, except for one small problem - the oil. The big one dropped over there would be like pissing in the punch at your own party. No black gold for years, waiting for the radioactivity to subside to a point that our great great grandkids could go back in and recover it. By then though, with any luck, we will have harnessed alternative energy sources, and Exxon/Chevron/Shell, will just be a nasty memory, at least with regards to fuel. They'll figure out some other way to screw us, like by sending the price of plastics thru the roof. A loaf of bread will still cost a buck, but the plastic wrapper and closer clip will be an extra $12.95....

In the meantime, we should let our votes dictate the policy as it unfolds. We should kick out this bunch of renegade capitalist limp dicks trying to work the holy land like a freakin' board game of "Baptists vs Methodists", only with oil out the wazoo. It's only a matter of time, before their fossil fuel reserves become just that - a fossil. Technology will allow us to stop sucking the blood out of our planet and filling the sky with it's ashes.

Think progressive - look to what science can and will do to embellish our existence. When that happens, and we no longer have a need for the slime beneath the soil of those fanatics who have no problem with dying by the hundreds, tripping over each other's freaking luggage for a chance to throw rocks at a rock column. They will just be a sideshow on The Discovery Channel, and no longer an obstacle to getting a cheap fill-up for our SUVs.

Peace - why not?

On the way to work at 5:00 this morning, I caught a glimpse of a digital freeway message board. It said,(I swear to God),:Arson/Burn ban in effect - Red Flag Warning. I just heard Ed Brandon on Ch 13 say we have a chance of heavy rain on Monday....... Do you think if they drop the burn ban, due to sufficient moisture in the surrounding rice fields, that they will drop the arson ban too? I hope not.

My imaginary friend and I had a game of horse out front, after work today. I won, but he claimed he did. The ensuing argument, got my nextdoor neighbor's attention. She tried to intervene, but I stopped her dead in her tracks when I asked: "how can you tell who's who here?" I/we should have been a lawyer!

The problem doesn't rear it's ugly head often. In the interest of public safety, I just pray that he doesn't take exception to my driving, and try to grab the wheel.

In truth, I limit my basketball, to games against my boys, both of who can put me in my place on a regular basis. My eight year old, Zach, shoots lights out - 24/7, and hates to lose. On the occasional night when the stars are aligned for me, and I can toss BB's into the neck of a Coke bottle from twenty paces, he just bows out - sometimes gracefully, sometimes not....I wonder where that temper comes from????????

Anybody want to confess their weaknesses - things you just can't resist. For some guys, it's tools, for some electronics, some, cigars....
For me, it's bicycles. I catch hell so much from my wife about it, it's almost like it's a vice.

Hi I'm Pilot. I'm a bikeaholic.

Started innocently, I just went for a ride on the creek near home. Before long I found myself needing more, so I rode longer. I almost quit once. it was on an eight mile ride in Colorado. The first four were a blast - hang on and steer, losing 2000 feet in altitude. It was that second half, that four mile, 2000 foot climb back to the trailhead that almost did me in! Once I moved back to flat coastal Texas, the hook was set though. Weather permitting, I now try to ride 7-10 miles a day, weather and daylight permitting, sometimes 20 on weekends. Suppose I could do worse for a habit though.

The one thing I catch hell about though, is my inability to pass on a garage sale bike or worse, one that survived a garage sale unsold, and ended up in the dumpster only to be lovingly rescued and rehabilitated by yours truly!

I currently have nine bikes in my garage - all rideable - two extra kids bikes, a nice working bike for each family member, two extra grown up models. One is a mountain bike I bought new and literally rode the wheels off of, I think it had near 5000 miles on it when I hung it up for "company" to ride when needed. The other is a beautiful ladies ten speed, probably 30 years old with a leather seat, in mint condition - with a little cleaning and polishing, once I rescued it from a dumpster.

An lastly, an old 10 speed featherlight Fuji racing bike I inherited over the weekend from a neighbor, cleaning out their garage. I can't wait to get it on the bike path after it's refurbished.

I was talking to one of the regulars at the trail the other day, and we have the same pet peeve - riding along sweating and pumping at 15mph on our mountain bikes, and having some old gal that outweighs ME by 50lbs, yell "move over, bike on yer left" and pass us on her $2000 composite frame racer, like we're sitting still. Just once, I am going to pull on a yellow jersey, and this old bear is gonna hose every one of 'em on that trail!

On a more serious note, I need to unload a bike or three, preferably not in a garage sale. Anybody know someone deserving of a dependable old bike that will get ridden? Just let me know. I need to clear a path from the back door to the garage door!

According to an article in today's Austin American Statesman, it appears that we are in danger of having the art of writing in cursive, disappear from our schools. If not by decree, then likely by attrition. What do you think of that? Both of my boys, in second and fourth grade, were taught in Katy schools to write in cursive.

I personally, would like to see it remain as part of the required curriculum, but that may just be sentimentality on my part. I suppose I need to delve into my history boxes in the attic, and try to figure out just when I stopped corresponding and writing stories, and taking notes in cursive. Answer forthcoming....

I do know, that as of 1979, upon entering the design/engineering field, and before personal computers were so pervasive, that I was taught to draw and to write using block or slant lettering. The lettering was exhaustive, repetitive drills, until I was at least consistent, if not downright good at it. I'll concede however, that with the use of PCs, 3D Cadd programs, high speed printers and plotters, that my lettering and drafting have improved dramatically. By the same token though, if the power goes out, I can still sit down at a drafting board (if there are any left) with my old drafting tools, and tape down a piece of paper, and crank out a readable product.

The beauty of cursive, is that in it's flowing style, it forces you to capitalize and punctuate properly. These days I block letter, with a draftsman's flair, nearly everything I do by hand, save for my signature. Occasionally I am even complimented on it. It's nothing though, compared to my wife, when she puts her mind to writing. She's an accomplished caligrapher, and it's fascinating, watching her write like that. On the other hand it's equally frustrating, trying to decipher her grocery lists. They look like they are in Klingon. Hard to believe the same pen does such beautiful invitations and announcements...

Okay, as usual, I strayed from the subject....for more on the debate on the teaching of cursive writing, take a look at this http://www.statesman.com/ne... target='_blank'>Austin American Statesman Article

I hope you all are aware that you have me to thank for this summer in January we are having here! In my ongoing struggle with whether or not to fix my heater, and who to have do the work, I finally settled on a shop and had it done.

Whoopee! All I have needed since that day, was the A/C! I'm assuming, I will succumb to my urge to go skiing soon, so the heater will in fact get some use - I hope.

That's the good news, because due to old Murphy's Law and my infinite wisdom in choosing a shop, since I got it fixed, about only half of the rest of my dashboard items seem to work. I have had it in and out of aforementioned shop, trying to get them to finish the job, listening to the shop owner **** and moan about losing his butt on the original work. What ever happened to doing it right the first time? No props for this guy, though I'll give him a little more time before initiating crucifiction by press proceedings.

He's got it down to two non-working items now - the horn, and the cruise control. That might not be all bad, particularly here in Houston though, as the horn, if used on the wrong guy having a bad day, can get you shot.

I really could use the cruise on trips though, as my knees have been broken so many times, that they tend to ache after a couple of hours of keeping the pedal on the floor.

On the other hand, this truck is the Ford self immolation model that has made the news recently for having the cruise control short out and set fire to truck, garage, house and any adjacent buildings and vehicles.

Maybe I should just insist that the cruise be fixed and park it down the street and pray for SFC (spontaneous Ford Combustion) and let Allstate and Ford Motor Co. duke it out - while I go and buy a new Toyota!

A job or a career? What's a person to do? What do our kids have to look forward to these days, when contemplating school and thereafter?

I know there are a lot of traditional choices available, but everything I have seen for the last twenty five years, at least here in the city, points to a transient trend in a lot of different lines of work. And it does not appear that there is very much security, even in the best of situations - ask the folks who were riding high under Ken lay's command - who had a ball park named for their company at it's pinnacle of success. Most of them were screwed out of their retirement and life savings, and the ball field is now called orange juice park!

I bounced around a lot, before settling into the line of design/engineering work I do. When I started it, I was a greenhorn at city ways, and to big business. I did, however have some expectations, regarding where things would go, once I settled in to my new career. Save, work at the same place for twenty five years, bank at the company credit union, trade at the company store, etc. Life was good - hell, this cat had found a bird's nest on the ground! This was going to be a breeze, followed by retirement like my dad, and both of my fathers-in-law had.

Before I knew it, I had a five year pin, and a bright outlook. A couple of weeks after that, a layoff. I went out the door on a Friday, with seventy other folks taking the company that a few months before, had about 5000 employees, to just under 700. What made matters worse, was that it wasn't just my company - the rest of the industry, was in the same pickle, so no work to be had.

Needless to say, it left a bad taste in my mouth, and I was pretty much soured on the engineering business, and looking elsewhere for a new start. Let me say this, I found something else for two years, and eventually when the well started pumping again, I was right back in the business of designing plants, just a lot smarter about how the big guys worked. In the last twenty years I have worked for probably eight different companies. I should have figured it out at the first place, when an old timer told me "son, if you've worked for one of these sumbitches, you can work for all of 'em". "Take their money, and keep an eye out for the writing on the wall - you'll figure it out". He was right, I figured it out, and how to stay one step ahead of the hatchet, and how to make them pay me what I am worth, or I'm down the road working for someone who will!

I'd like to talk about that two year sabbatical from the oilfield though. I took a job as a salesman, selling cellular car phones, when they first came out, and there were no handheld cellphones. I did very well at it, and I worked for a sharp marketer and businessman, and learned quickly. He was Roy Marsh. He must have instilled some of his wisdom in his son and namesake, Roy Jr., because ne is the founder and C.E.O. of EV1 - everyone's internet. As I said though, I learned quickly, and won two trips to Cozumel in the process as sales contest prizes, and made sales manager in less than a year. I was a natural for sales work and it's good to know I can scrub up and do it in a pinch, if I have to, but the emotional rollercoaster ride that is commission sales is just a bit much for me over the long haul......

A while back, I did a piece on telemarketers, and my disdain for them in general. I am going to wrap this up, with a confession. We employed a phone bank of telemarketers at Car Telephones Inc., and they provided the leads for all of my sales staff. Worked pretty hard, they did, calling businessman after businessman hawking our service and getting us appointments.

There was one girl in particular, that I remembered - Amandre' Odugbemi, strikingly pretty,with a very unusual Euro-African accent. She was a good worker, and going to school nights at the time. After I left that business, I often wondered what happened to her.

I found out in this morning's Chronicle, that she had graduated with honors from the University of Houston, and had a distinguished career with Exxon and was engaged to be married. None of that surprised me. She was a sweet girl and with a ton of promise and a good work ethic. What did surprise me, was how I found all of this out - by reading her and her fiancee's obituary, and finding out that they were the subject of a news story I caught in passing last week, and in the true spirit of the city life, just dismissed as routine, without bothering to listen to the details of the story.

Well, here are the details - Amandre and her fiancee, upon returning home from a formal dress, black tie fundraiser, surprised an intruder who had broken in to their townhome. In an instant, the heartless son of a b**** used his gun to snuff out two young lives for a purse and a wallet. This city sure can suck when it comes to what can happen to a person in the blink of an eye, can't it?

Happy new year all - now that we, for the most part have survived the end of another one. I just got finished explaining myself to my wife, after she overheard me on the phone, talking to a friend, saying the same thing, but possibly using an unfortunate choice of words, in describing it as the end of "white bread Christian Mardi Gras".

So now I shall try to explain it in print. I have made my stance on thanksgiving clear, I believe. Basically a time of celebrating taking the red man's land from him, all the while discussing a fence that would keep the Mexicans out. I haven't checked, are we talking about fencing the Canadian border too? I do know we are patrolling the Florida waters on an ongoing basis. Sounds like a skin color problem some still have down here in the south, huh? Let's just forget that little failed slave thing we tried a while ago, okay? Shhhh.

As usual, I digress, and drift away from the subject.

As I was referring to the white fat cat Mardi Gras tradition, I did not in any way intend to malign Christians. Christmas is about the birth of Jesus Christ, a saviour to those who believe. I do enjoy the carols, and the Christian traditions. They remind me also, of my childhood, and growing up.What it ain't about, is Playstations, or new Harleys, or plasma TV's, Hannukah, or Kwanza, or any other conveniently timed, come lately holidays, for the sake of having everybody included in the buying frenzy. What I do not care for, is how that six week period, has evolved into a building crescendo of cash registers clanging, excessive merchandising, gifting, ungifting regifting and just general excess, overshadowing the war, poverty, pollution, and other problems that it tries to be a vacation from. It does, you'll have to admit, have a "Mardi Gras" ring to it - right down to the final night of drunken celebration followed by a day after hangover on the first day of the year.

I did not get hammered on new year's eve, but rather spent it snuggled beside my ten year old son, watching the Disney Channel, and falling asleep before midnight. I did welcome in the new year, as out on the street, the night was transformed into something resembling a D-Day landing/shuttle liftoff. Bottom line was I spent New Years day with a clear head, mostly driving, as I visited my folks and sister on the bay briefly, and an old friend during visiting hour at the Victoria County Jail. and for anyone who is interested, Diane is doing fine. Great spirits, already organizing and helping out the other gals in there with her. Her eyes are as bright as the sixteen year old cheerleader I remember, and she wore a smile the entire time I was there. And No, Baby, her hair is not getting grey - still black. I'll be glad when she's out, and we can sit and talk about the bay and writing, and she can meet my wife and boys.

So anyway, where was I? Oh, yeah, the party is over, and '06 is here - bring it on!