As I am prone to, I shall offer another view on a story I read here first. I'll skip any further reference to the water hyacinth, as reported on by Tara, and just call a spade a spade. The damn things are water lilies, and nothing more or less than a pain in the ***, and originally a product of some well meaning world traveller who spied them in a river in Asia or South America (depending on which story you believe), and thought they would be a "pretty" addition to some unnamed stream in Florida, Louisiana, or Texas.  Bottom line: as usual, it is not nice to mess with mother nature. Story I got from my dad, was that after the water hyacinth was introduced, and proceeded to do what it does, which is to multiply exponentially and choke local streams, some "expert" in his moment of brlliance, deduced that the logical next step, was to import nutria, which are rumored to eat the damn water lilies..........well one brilliant screw-up begat another, and now we have swamps from Tivoli to Tallahassee, choked with "pretty" weeds, and oversized rats that are edible, low in cholesterol, and allegedly prized for their fur, that nobody wants any part of. Again, it would have been better had both scourges been left in their homeland, but it appears that they are here to stay. I say forget the herbicides, just rake 'em up and let them die in the sun. As far as the rats go......they were here before us, and just like cockroaches, they'll be here after we humans have cycled through our existence on planet earth, or the next big fireball from space plops down in Little Rock, causing a nuclear winter that lasts for eons.

I'll address the skewed perspective part first. You just have to take with a grain of salt, anything someone writes while on Soma, Lodine, and a host of BP meds while sampling a breakfast consisting of generic H.E.B. toaster pastries, (frosted with sprinkles), a dish of strawberries and Homemade Vanilla Blue bell, room temperature coffee and a glass of chardonnay(it seems to compliment the pop tarts and the pain meds). Seems I have a bit of an issue with my sciatic nerve, pending the results of an MRI on Monday. A month ago I didn't even know I had a sciatic nerve.......funny how that works when you hit your fifties, huh? It's a nasty little painful condition that comes and goes, and defies reasoning. Sometimes I can barely walk to the printer from my desk. Others I can get on my mountain bike and do ten miles pain free. Only found one thing that seems to be a sure fire trigger for a flare up. Can't really go into that though(think missionary work maryann). As my pal the Grey-Beard Loon put it, "face it kid, yer gettin' old".......though I still refuse to do that.

Anyhoo, I mentioned a raise. Yay. The evidence of how things are going in the oil patch, and my business(engineering/design/refinery construction) is no more obvious anywhere than here in Houston these days. I have seen hard times and good times, but never times like this. I get calls about twice a week from other headhunters, companies, and friends at other companies, looking to share a bounty with me for hiring me away from where I currently work. It's nuts. I have had a $10.00 hourly increase offer on the table for a couple of months now, to pick up and move a mile away to another outfit which I have heretofore, just looked at and procrastinated on. Allow me to interject here, part of the reason I have procrastinated is that I really like my job and in particular the team of people I work with and have for most of the last 13 years. So, yesterday my boss called all of us in one at a time, and passed out increases.......not annual, and not peanuts, (the annual peanuts review/raises are in December). No, this was just a thank you for staying, we know what others are offering all of you, get with the program adjustment. That spoke volumes to me. It was sufficient for me to dismiss thoughts of the other offer I had staring at me. The only down side to all of this is that I wasn't really able to savor the moment as he was explaining the current and forecast workload to me and to wallow in the spoils of victory. Reason being, the afore mentioned sciatic nerve and brand new prescriptions. I had taken my meds on an empty stomach, and chased it with a sugared up cup of iced coffee about thirty minutes before the boss came and asked me to follow him to his office two floors below. To give you a hint of my condition, as I dutifully followed him down the stairs as the soma was really kicking in, I actually entertained asking him for a piggyback ride the last flight of stairs. Thankfully, I didn't, and when seated in his office looking at that astonishing piece of paper and hearing his voice, I couldn't help but think about how the last time I had felt those sensations, was at a Grateful Dead concert about twenty five years ago. I think my meeting went well(again, I could have passed gas in a two syllable, dual pitch manner that sounded like "AF-LAC!", and would never have known), because the last thing I remember was shaking his hand and being told to keep up the good work. I do remember thinking about trying to buy someone's chair and paying them to push me to the elevator and back to my desk afterwards.........but I actually made it under my own power, and I came to a short while later. I can truthfully say that yesterday was the first time in my life an honest to goodness legit prescription drug with MY name on the bottle, taken as directed has scared me. Lesson learned. So anyway, today is my day off, I slept a bit late, and woke up to the national news. What do I hear? The stock market went in the dumper overnight and they were talking $7.00 a gallon gas later this year.

So I got a raise. Big whoop! Looks like I need to just go to payroll and revise my direct deposit allocations so that the raise goes directly to Mustafa's Corner Shell station. Looks like he's gonna end up with it anyway.

Call it what you will….the privy, the latrine, the head, the can , the john, or the little shack out back, rich or poor, black or white (or blue in the face), I mean we all gotta go, right? Before we get too far here in my little dissertation on semi-public restrooms and my pet peeves associated with them, be forewarned, some potty humor may creep into this one. When I say "semi public", I am speaking here of the workplace and their porcelain throne emporiums. And my beef is really not so much with the rooms per se, as with the client base they cater to. In other words people can just be pigs! All you need to do to find out how many adult professionals still go through life thinking their mother is right behind them with a mop and a waste basket and a vacuum and a dish towel, is come to my office for a day, and hang around the office fridge, coffee bar, and the men's room. (I would like after reading this, to hear from some of you as to whether the ladies' rooms compare). I do still respect the "Ladies" sign on the door, and never, never go in there, except maybe late at night to change the film in the camera......JUST KIDDING! (it's digital).

NO, seriously now, I think I might have blogged once before about a similar subject or the exceedingly poor throne to hiney ratio at my last office, and how in a twelve story office building, after I had duck walked from floor to floor, and finally found a handicapped stall that I honestly made it into with mere seconds to spare, when I exited the stall, the one and only scooter bound person in the building, like Murphy's Law, is sitting outside the door staring at me with a look on his face like a kicked puppy as I walked by.

This little rant though is more about the clientele than the building. First, I think each stall should be equipped with a dookey detector, and that the door should lock behind each user and not unlock until the facility was as clean as it was when they entered. That would mean a brush and some pine sol would have to be in each stall, but so what? I can't count the times i have walked into a stall, and wanted to turn and run and warn the others. It ain't right to have to walk in, needing in the very near future, to answer nature's call in peaceful comfort, only to gaze upon a sight where the first two phrases that come to mind are muzzle velocity, and shot pattern spread, if you get my drift here. This has given me a whole new measure of respect for the folks whose task it is to go put that sign in the door and clean up after us as we walk by complaining about the "closed for cleaning" status and tighten the cheeks and try to calculate which next closest privvy we have a chance to make it to. About the only complaint I can come up with for those poor Latrinos and Latrinas, is for one, their timing and not knowing that I am a coffee hound (Iced from "It's A Grind" preferably), and that they are unaware when they put that "housekeeping" barricade in the doorway, that in addition to my swilling down wholesale amounts of coffee, I have also taken two diuretics for blood pressure, and that my range for finding relief is limited.  Oh and maybe the little beef I have about the fact that they apparently use some sort of hydraulic press to load the paper towel dispenser, making a compressed wad of towels that you could ricochet a 9mm slug off of, and when trying to remove a towel or two, only come out with matchbook sized strips. Okay.....I am finished bellyaching about the john for now. I think I'll do one next on the office refrigerator....oh, and please if you are offended by my camera joke, trust me I have read the stories of the pervs that got caught with video cameras set up to tape in such locations as locker rooms and such. I was just as aghast as you were to read those stories of them getting caught. Some people.......I thought everyone knew you have to put some duct tape over that flashing red light.............

Where did the time go? It seems like just yesterday, they were there making racket all the time, waiting to be fed or noticed. Now they have left and gone away. How time flies! No, silly. I am not talking about my offspring! My boys are just ten and twelve.....I hope a way off from leaving the nest. I am talking about for real baby birds, that have for the last month, been living in a nest over my front door. Baby barn swallows to be exact, four of them. My kids have just marveled at watching them grow from tiny chicks, to being so big they had to take turns being down in the mud and twig nest their mma built for them, while a couple clung to the edge of the nest. I came home from dinner last night, to a find a for real empty nest. To be honest, it was actually a bit of a sad time, as I had gotten attached to the little guys and I actually talked to them on occasion. And for those of you who say, well why don't you just run down to the pet store and get a couple of birds........all I can say is you just don't really understand "freedom", do you? I so hope the little guys learned to fly away and that it was time for them to go. I'd hate to think that damned murderous cat that's been hanging around had anything to do with their absence.........

..........followed by scattered light in the morning. Still funny today, hearing the Hippy Dippy, Weatherman,huh as he cautioned us that the Canadian low coming in from the north, was not to be confused with a Mexican high coming across the border. A lot of brilliant and funny men have come and gone over the years, but very few could hold a candle to George Carlin. Yes, he will be sorely missed, as he was really an American treasure. Where probably seventy five percent of the other funny men who have come and gone in recent years, leaving in a flaming trail of drug abuse, self indulgence, and their own inability to control the popularity and stardom that surrounded them, old George adapted. Yeah he was a bit on the coarse side at times, but he was real. He had a unique view of life and an undeniable gift for pointing out all he saw in a funny way that has been matched by very few. He made us look at ourselves and challenged us to think about things that were so simple about our lives yet were so important, and further yet, so overlooked. He could come up with some of the silliest, mundane stuff in one breath, and in the next minute, with his uncanny sense of humor and timing, point out something so amazingly profound and true yet not ever spoken, regarding life, religion, politics, you name it. He was one of the original "protesters", yet instead of carrying a sign and marching, he marched on stage nightly and continued doing it for all of those years. He kept a few politicians more honest than they might otherwise have been, I am quite sure. He despised censorship and was a champion of the First Amendment. Yep, as freethinker put it, George Carlin is an American Hero, plain and simple. You can call it heaven, nirvana, or what you will, but if there is an afterlife and a front porch there where the funny guys gather, right there with Clem Kadiddlehopper, Richard Pryor, Uncle Miltie, Rodney Dangerfield and Jose Jiminez......there will be a new chair pulled up for George today.

Rest in peace, George.

Saw yet another heart rending story on ABC this morning, regarding the floods in Missouri (Show Me State - remember that). It was a camera shot of a pretty reporter in designer waders, talking to a guy who could for all the world have been me - fiftyish, longish greying mane, and bit of a Tecate or Grain Belt paunch. As he was telling of how his flooded house was also flooded back in '93, and I could see the city hall and public library in the background, with undoubtedly their walls adorned with many of old black and white and browntoned sepia photos of floods in their little town from over the years(remember "Show Me State"?), I couldn't help but think that either the old boy has  memory issues, or he just never frequents the library or city council meetings, whereby he would have at least been reminded that such recurring soggy days were yet possible, maybe even a long standing tradition.

The one bright, very sparkly part of his story though, was that he had enough bling hanging from his left ear, that it appeared he could pretty much hock part of it, rebuild a Port o'Connor style stilt house with a big porch/dock and still be able to keep maybe the diamond encrusted peace sign. As for me, I had to make a choice when it came to bling or boat and where to live. I chose high ground, and have an old scow that runs pretty good, and a thirty five year old James Avery anchor cross given to me by my first love, and a Navajo wedding ring, to serve as bling.

Thinking back on the old boy in the news story living there in the morning shadow of the levee in the "Show Me State", I can't help but think that maybe he is not after all, a Missouri native, but rather an immigrant from their neighbor to the south....Arkansas - the "You Show Me Yours and I'll Show You Mine State"!

Okay, hide the kids......nah, this is only semi NSFW. I was driving to work this morning, watching "The Nelson Files", a high point on the Channel 13 morning newscast, usually containing some very relevant and useful information, when a story caught my eye.....er, ear(you don't think I actually watch TV on the Katy Freeway at rush hour do you?) Anyway, the story that piqued my interest, was of a lady who has filed suit against Victoria's Secret (is the rumor true that that chain started there in Victoria?). Sooooo this lady claims that as she was putting on some thong underwear from the aforementioned clothier, a metal  piece became dislodged from it, striking her in the eye, damaging her cornea. I am kind of at a loss here (not for words), but as to just exactly what this "metal" piece was.....Maybe it was the Bull Rider model, with a cute little belt buckle on it, reckon? Or possibly the CSI, Miami Calleigh Duquesne model, with a little badge connecting one side and some miniature cuffs on the other side. Now up front, I must add, I have never, seriously NEVER, tried on a thong. Not even a picture you'd want to see. Hairy as I am, it would look like a postage stamp lying in a rose hedge. Maybe I’ve removed one or two, and thus far with a perfect safety record I might add, but never have I put them on myself. I suppose that had there actually been a metal component to the garment, and given the fact that by design, these things actually could be pressed into service as a slingshot, that it is possible for what she claims, to have happened. I'd like to add that I would like to be in court when she demonstrates how it happened.  Or maybe not. It seems that she must have been stretching the thing just a little beyond it's design specs, maybe tripping as she was putting it on, and well, the thing must have just snapped, in the process, launching the metal shrapnel at her eye. It helps to be honest with yourself and buy the appropriate size, lady. I can see one other scenario here too. That back in Buffalo, or Muncie or wherever the lady hails from, that around the courthouse square she is known as "Lucy the Litigant", or maybe digging back in her past you'll find the her husband or boyfriend got a big settlement from Fredericks of Hollywood in a similar case, claiming to have broken a crown and several adjacent teeth, while removing her thong.........that is how you take them off, isn't it?

When I first saw the "Ratcliff to avoid trial?" teaser line.....I thought of only three options - Plea, flee, or the old vacuum cleaner hose from the tailpipe to the back seat route out. I can see, while still not totally agree with the "lesser charge" for a conviction, off ramp for prosecutors in say Harris County, or Travis County......for the sake of expediency, but let's be realistic here. This is Victoria. Are your courts so clogged wit crackheads, pimps, and high profile, Enron type cases, that there isn't time or budget available to prosecute a person to the fullest extent of the law, for ALL of the crimes he has perpetrated? Or is this just "good ol' boy" justice in its finest hour?  here are some direct quotes from the Advocate story tonight:

Ratcliff, a former 12-year Victoria County sheriff, is charged with multiple counts of aggravated sexual assault of a teenage boy.

Greg Cagle, a League City attorney who is representing Victoria Police Chief Bruce Ure in an equally high-profile case, offered his thoughts.

“In a case where the charges are of this nature – where the victim is a child and the offense is of a sexual nature – no, I don’t think there’s an overwhelming public interest in the case,” Cagle said..........

Huh?!?! No public interest. Sorry, I am the public. I have preteen sons. I have an interest in seeing that vermin are dealt with.

First of all, please note that I didn't title this "If The Levee Breaks". Before I have had my say, you'll come to understand why I briefly entertained the idea of titling it "Who Burned The Hair On Smokey The Bear". Basically, it is just a tale of stupidity, and just good old American wretched excess, penned (input in a Word Doc, actually) as all of these heart rending stories of folks up to their butts in mud and brackish water, play out on Nightline. Yes, I know that sounds a bit callous, but take a look at all of the flood disasters we have encountered in this country since oh, say Katrina, or even back over the years. Then look a little closer, and see if you can find that in all or most instances, there is a common denominator. Why, strip my gears and call me shiftless! There's that word over and over again........LEVEE. Folks, that's more than a common thread.......it's a CLUE. One apparently overlooked for several generations, don't you think? Who do you think was so influential, that he convinced everyone along the big river, that it would be smarter to pile up dirt and try to contain the frequently flooding river, than to just build the houses and barns ten feet up in the air? It was bandied about for countless years, as far back as I can remember.......with regards to what would happen if(again, note not when), the "big one" hit New Orleans. Good to see some foresight was used to prevent a calamity, huh? How about the midwest? It is not like this year is the first time everything from the beaches of eastern Nebraska and western Indiana has had more catfish than corn growing. It will be interesting to see how many folks who elect to stay and rebuild this time, build something more resembling a Rockport or Port O'Connor style dwelling, than a snug little ranch style home at roughly eight feet below inland sea level. Yeah, they still need their basements/srorm cellars, and one with a really big bilge pump to be sure, because when they aren't bailing out the barn, they will be scanning the horizon for F3 twisters. Norman Rockwell heartland indeed. I think I'll take my chances with the occasional Gulf storm on the Texas coast. At least when the good Lord flushes, it runs back into the marshes and bay in short order.

And no, the folks along the Mighty Mississip' and its tributaries actually don't even hit the high mark on the stupidometer. I reserve that lofty goal/distinction, for the granola belt.....that little strip inhabited by nuts and flakes, just east of L.A., San Diego, and points north. That beautiful tinderbox, otherwise known as California, known not only for Hollyweird, Beverly Hills, fine wines and snowboarding in the morning, followed by 18 holes or some big waves after lunch, but also for it's propensity to just up and spontaneously ignite and self immolate at the drop of a hat. And guess where the property of choice is located......where they can't clear land for million dollar homesite/infernos fast enough to list would be? Nah, don't guess.......you can find the answer on the six o'clock news, right after flood season in Missouri. People are strange. They have libraries full of the Santa Anna wind driven fire seasons of '34. '43, '54 and '69 and know exactly how many acres and homes were consumed, but still they build.

Like I said.......around these parts, we know pretty much when the pavement will liquefy and stick your bare feet. We know that the wind will blow like hell from Cinco de Mayo until the Fourth of July and that the bays will look like a chocolate milk shake, and then the wind will lay, and about once a week, they'll find some local boy that asked a transplanted Yankee, "hot enough for ya?", in the ER. Kow what? I'll take it, along with all four weeks of our "winter", over the midwest blizzards, floods and tornadoes, and the west coast fires and earthquakes. Not that I don't really dig those snow covered hills in the midwest, and the point break at Ventura Beach, or the blue water of Tahoe. For the most part, I have a pretty good read on when it's cool to go there, and when it isn't. The only thing I am still trying to figure out is exactly when is "earthquake season"

On the subject of the removed post: From day one when Richie started posting/promoting in this space, I was on him like a duck on a junebug. It wasn't very long until I realized that my rants against the "death metal" content, sounded so much like my dad railing against my own music tastes, first over the "longhaired limeys", and ultimately the no doubt about it psychedelic drug influenced 1970 era Moody Blues, and The Who's Tommy, to name just a couple. Scared me that I reacted that way about it. I bit my tongue and crawfished on my condemnation of the thrasher metal stuff, and took a "to each his own" posture, but did not back down on the advertising or self promotion part of my whining. I agree with Chris.....that doesn't belong here - not selling Avon, Amway, death metal or self cremation kits. That goes on Craigslist.

As far as the music, let's see how that music stands the test of time, and how it sounds to you when you are sixty. Don't blow out a disk stage diving, crowd surfing or being in the mosh pit when you're sixty. As far as the Moody Blues, and "Legend of a Mind" written about acid trips around the bay with Tim Leary, it's thirty eight years since that was released, and it and the rest of their music, still sells out Red Rocks Amphitheater in Denver and PBS uses it along with Roy Orbison's "Mean Woman Blues" to sell their programming. Good music is art and it will withstand the test of time. And don't get me wrong, I have fiercely defended some things throughout my life, that turned out to be garbage. Tastes change, the good things endure.

Uh, we're talking full blooded Catahoula here.....webbed feet, eight foot vertical leap. Fences (and cubicles I presume) are a mere formality for this coonass hound. He stays in the yard, because he chooses to. He goes by a number of names. My two favorite, are Jar Jar and Buford. To the kids, he's Buddy. The photo should pretty much be a tipoff as to how he feels about going to the office on Friday.........though I think if I told him it was brisket for lunch day, he'd at least give it some thought...........

........well talk about paranoia, and now egg on my face. Sheesh! The culprit came clean. It was my boyhood friend and a Great American, now my attorney, the esteemed Titus Balsak. Seems he was digging through some really old clothes to donate, and while going through the pockets of a leisure suit he's had since the '70s, he found some qualudes and an eight ball in a test tube. Well, you can guess the rest.....he did it all, then got all edgy and freaky, and called me looking for advice. so I was like really engrossed in my bible study, and told him to bite it, that he was barking up the wrong tree, from another lifetime. In his attempt to further self medicate, and take off the edge from his refreshments, well he drank a pint of old No.5 Jack Daniels, and again, you can figure it out......just got plain mean, and did the old anonymous pen pal freakout thing. So there you have it.....false alarm.

Soooo, who bought that version?

Okay here is another one: Said pen pal, sent me another off post e-mail, explaining that he actually didn't know me from Adam, all the while professing that his correspondence was not intended as threatening. He simply was trying as he put it, "to take me down a notch", due to the fact that he didn't care for my "sarcastic" style of writing, and attitude...... Any future reference to this person, by the way, will be by his code name....FedEx. That will not come as unexpected by him, as he basically gave me the name, and stated that he knew I would be using it. I'll go so far as to say, that while I still regard the tone as threatening, that any future comments, would be best served by being as comments to the blog, as opposed to private ones directed at me personally. If anyone thinks I need to be "taken down a notch", let me have it for all to see and either agree with, or dispute. That is the whole reason for the "comments" part of this forum. I have had others lecture me here, and I am not above being chastised for penning something that someone might not like or agree with. I have even had the "now look here, young man" tone used on me a time or two by readers. Fact is, I am, as my almost 11 year old son says, 57 and a half, and likely older than most of those who would offer me stern fatherly advice from time to time. Maybe I write younger than my age, I don't know. I like to think of myself as "middle aged".....you know, those delicate, sensitive years between "hopped up" and "propped up".  I write here, because I have stories and opinions, and I enjoy the interaction with other people and their ideas.......I just don't want to get into a private pissing match with anyone. It's like rowing with one oar. You just go in circles and don't get anywhere.

..........or will they? They fake it so well, that sometimes it's really hard to tell. Oops, maybe I should explain. I am referring to speculators.....financial analysts......or to use a swear word, economists. In their neverending quest to prove that you can in fact, get blood out of a turnip, they are now saying that due to the fact that there really are rapids in downtown Cedar Rapids, and half of the rest of the midwest, that it appears that the price of gasoline may rise as much as fifteen percent. Seems due to the corn crops being nearly wiped out, that the feedstock for the folly that is corn ethanol is now going to skyrocket. Just when you think "how many more bul**** factors can they blame screwing us at the pumps on?", they pull another rabbit out of their hat. We know that big oil has been raking record profits, and screwing us, while bending us over the trunk of our car, but only recently have they been saying that just maybe, some of the high price of fuel, was due to speculators driving up the price. Whatever, that really is the "American Way", now isn't it? You know.......not work hard and be rewarded for it, but speculate, manufacture shortages, and create illusions and sell them to the people. There is one bright spot or feel good story coming out of Iowa, where all of this flooding is going on. Seems this one farmer, Ray Kinsella, had a vision and just as his corn crop was coming in, and looking good,....... well, he plowed it all under, built a baseball field. Now, every night, Ty Cobb, Shoeless Joe Jackson, The Babe, Ted Williams and even Barry Bonds, come from the surrounding corn fields, in full uniform, with bags of bats and balls, and play a baseball game. People come. They come from miles away to see these "baseball men", and they give Ray Kinsella their money for the privilege of being able to do that...............You believe that too, right? You see, Ray figured out a long time ago that there were a lot more in the way of rewards, by speculating than by sweating in the fields, trying to make an honest living with his hands. Oh, and it really isn't that difficult to figure out when they are faking it.......

 

Okay folks Ms. Keeling and Mr. Jaynes have humped on our leg for what seems like months. I don't agree with using this forum for politicking............b1tching about politicians, yes, but not campaigning. That is water under the bridge now. The old song "Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow", comes to mind now. Let us now see from both the winner and loser, whether they were sincere in thinking of we who visit, comment, and post here, as people with an opinion and ideas that they will listen to, or just butts to kiss in looking for our vote. Politics is yokel, to quote the Kinkster. So to the two of you who have plied our space with your promises and finger pointing............keep us up to speed on what you do next, and be accountable to the folks who voted for you. The honeymoon is over now. It's time to put up, put out, or get out.

A2847LRT  this is their Advocate profile. The following is a letter I received from this person after they perused my blogs, and comments on others' blogs. It does end with a bit of a threatening tone, but I will refrain from publishing their e-mail address that came with the letter, unless I receive any further disgruntled feedback anonymously from them. I certainly welcome comments from my readers, agreeable or dissenting views. I don't however, appreciate anonymous threatening e-mails. Keep it in full view. (Where I can nuke it if it is out of line). This person did have a comment to my previous blog, which in case they are sleuth enough to know they can delete it, is:

Hold the presses, I have a late breaking story.  It appears that an Advocate blogger is about to come into a tidy sum of cash. That would be yours truly. It has taken three years and change of writing this stuff, but I can now say with utmost certainty, that it has finally paid off. I got notification from the Advocate last night(letter to follow), that someone had “found” my profile on the Advocate website, and had sent me the following message:

 

Someone found your profile on VictoriaAdvocate.com and wanted to tell you the following:

"Dearest Friend Good day and God bless, I am Miss Jeniffer Solomon from Sierra-Leone. I am writing you from Rep of Cote 'Ivoire where I have been taking refuge after the brutal war and murder of my parents by the rebels during the renewed fighting in our country. Because of the war my late Father sold his shipping company and took me to Cote d'Ivoire where he deposited US$8, 300, 000.00 in his foreign account with one of the bank here in Cote d'Ivoire Please, I got your profile from this site and due to the current political situation in Cote d'Ivoire now I am seeking for your assistance to transfer this Money and also relocate to your country to further my studies and I am willing to offer you 15% of the total sum for your assistance and input. I am 22years, so I cannot be able to handle this alone due to my mentor. Kindly contact me through my private email address (miss_jenlya16@yahoo.co.uk) for more details. Best Regards Miss Jeniffer Solomon"

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Shades of African queens! Did I hit the jackpot or what? And pssssst, she’s 22! WOW. I can’t wait to see her picture when I write her back. Although for my $1,245,000 payday, she could look like Don Knotts and Aunt Bea rolled into one, and I’d still cash the check. What I find really intriguing, is first, what lured her to the Vicad, and second, specifically which blog of mine did she find so enthralling the she felt compelled to peruse my profile. Oh well, who am I to question such a stroke of luck? Best I just thank God for the civil unrest in Sierra Leone and most of the rest of Africa, and that her parents were in the right place at the wrong time, and get on with the business at hand. First thing on my list, is to quit my job. I am going to need some time to think more clearly about how to spend this windfall. So anyway, my plan now is to quickly reply to my African benefactor. I’ll probably just go ahead and right up front, send her my bank account number and a copy of my Social Security card, in the interest of letting her know how sincere I am. Please know that after I receive my reply from her, I will let you all know where I have retired to.

You don’t suppose she has sent this letter to anyone else, do you? Nah, I didn’t think so. Sounds too good to be true, but all the same, legit to me. I wonder if she has a brother? I’d like to let my wife get in on this deal too…….

Seriously now, did anyone else get this? I honestly haven't received a phish hook like this since about 2002.....

.......that the good thing about blogging, is that there is no editor. Inversely, he cautioned me that the bad thing about blogging, is that there is no editor. Meaning that if one chooses to hang out their ignorance, inability to spell, or any other grammatical or literary flaws, or psychopathic tendencies, it is there for all the world to see. I am sure I have made my share of grammatical mistakes and misspellings. I write in flurries, and on occasion, at times when maybe I would be better of if my keyboard had a breathalyzer.....but I do have the good sense to go back and edit after the fact, and on occasion, read a post, wonder which alter ego wrote THAT, and yank it. I still do notice though, that there are an excessive number of posts by more than a few bloggers, that have an amazing number of simple screw ups. I have scene it with my own eyes, daily, by a blogger who clains to have worked at the Advocate since '85 and is now an editor. Oh, and don't think that in addition to policing each other, there are not "editors" overseeing us. I have been spanked more than once for content, language, or whatever. ME, imagine that.

Oh, and the other thing my wise old friend mentioned was on the subject of deleting hostile comments on our bloge. He said to treat your blog like it was your pub or bar. If a patron gets too rowdy, sometimes you just have to toss their butt out into the street. I think I have had to do that once in three plus years..........

Any of you who read this blog three years ago (actually, I think in Mar of '06, look it up), might recognize this title. This isn't a re-run though. Maybe a rehash, after a lot more thought on the subject. In that post, I alluded to how difficult it is going to be to keep I-69 signs up on the signposts, as they disappear and end up on teeny boppers bedroom walls. In addition, I predict a cottage industry springing up making bumper stickers and post cards, and trinkets to sell at Stuckey's, Buckee's, and especially at Love's. They'll say things like "  I 69ed on I-69" , or maybe a couple of little little red and blue Interstate symbols Each bearing the number 34.5 and joined by a heart......

At any rate, that isn't what I was referring to when I said more thought had gone into this. I have tried to keep up with the politickin' and proposed land grabs and ranchers, farmers, and speculators, all up in arms about each proposal, and what it will do to the family farm, etc. I see it as a "damned if you do, damned if you don't" situation. I never cottoned to the idea of Governor Goodhair's condemning and taking by eminent domain, land for a "corridor" of toll roads, utility easements, and rail. Rail, now there's an idea! Instead of ripping up tracks, they should be laying MORE! More concrete means more cars, which means more demand for fuel. Not good. Living in Houston where every freeway is constantly in "widening" mode, I shudder to think how messed up 59 will be growing to 69, and for how long. Hell, there may not even be enough gasoline left to drive on it when it is finished. I for one, will be moving to the coast route (Texas 35) , once they start construction. I see enough of that here daily. I honestly think that passenger rail is amore viable option for moving people long distances....on elevated tracks, and as much of it as possible. Truth is, the population is growing and the part of paradise that is not paved is shrinking rapidly. I don't think the answer is more roads, but rather get the ratio of passengers to internal combustion engines a lot more lopsided in favor of passengers.......

 

Provided by the Bay Area Amateur Gynecologists Association. Just look for the black pickup with the examination table in the back. The one with the stirrups on it….wink, wink. It will be parked at the far west end of the bayfront, well clear of the crowds. You won’t be able to miss it – look for the van parked next to it with the “free candy” sign painted on it’s side.  Okay, for those of you who actually got this far, and are still trying to find a date, time, and phone number to call for an appointment, go back and re-read the Ted Reed Park voyeur’s blog again. The difference is that this one was intended as a spoof, where I am fairly certain the other one, was posted by someone who had nothing better to do than to than point fingers and judge. The thing that amazes me, (or maybe it shouldn’t), is the unbelievable amount of blog hits that busybody got simply by virtue of blissfully and ignorantly  sticking a title out there implying there was “hanky panky” happening in the park. As if this was actually a new trend, being pioneered in a Victoria Park. Know what else???? I was one of those who ducked in for a peek at the story too. Sex sells. Illicit sex sells like snow-cones on a hot summer day. Oh, and a good title with a hook never hurts either.  Half of my yarns start with a title and nothing else….. Why just last Sunday, I was hard at work on a really good long winded  story, but went to bed…or passed out, I forget, planning on finishing it first thing yesterday morning. Well, wouldn’t you know it, I crack open the Advocate, and though TOTALLY unrelated in subject matter, there on the front page, someone had obviously stolen the title of my masterpiece……”Mutant Beaver Prowls Coleto Creek”. Back to the drawing board as they say………

.....am I the only one who finds it ironic that a beaver's tail is actually hairless?

 

That is what I hear. That speculation and the market is what is to blame for the exorbitant oil/gasoline prices, rather than supply or demand for that matter. Please allow me to speculate a bit here. I am inclined to guess that the big oil companies and corporate finance giants that have us by the balls, are on the verge of becoming the target of a serious backlash from the bottom of the food chain. This is not about people who make 40K a year selling the Suburban they can't afford to drive and buying a Rav 4. This is not about those who drive a Hummer, and make $150K pissing and moaning all the way to the bank about four bucks a gallon. This is about the 75% of the population up to their butts in credid card debt and maxed out on their Valero card. The ones who have to start choosing between formula for their babies and buying enough gas to get to work. It is going to get violent and very ugly. There is going to be targeted anarchy. Like a third world country, we are going to see oil company execs kidnapped and beheaded. We are going to see urban violence and crime go through the roof. It is not a complicated equation folks. We are regressing into a caste system, and there will be a revolt if things do not change and change soon. Oh, and McCain nor Obama even remotely figure into this one.........unless their having a bullseye on their forehead as a result of being the HNIC counts. Neither politicians nor corporate officers are trusted among the common folk, and for good reason.......the common folk are not even on their radar. This may sound like a rant. It actually is not. I have a good job, that seems pretty secure in light of the current state of the refining chain. I could complain louder, but it would be construed as biting the hand that feeds me. This is only an opionion and observation, based on seeing how the masses in other parts of the world have reacted to "fair trade" capitalism evolving into questionable business practices, and ultimately into greed, corruption, and business running the government. Call me a fatalist, but remember what I am saying. This isn't the depression era. The masses are educated and pissed, and capable of inflicting a lot of damage on the money machine. It's not going to be pretty. This will make the Boston Tea Party look like a ........well, tea party.

Let's see........if her brother is also her father, would that not make her other brother her uncle as well? And then while her uncle brother's daughter would be her cousin, would she not be her niece also? Sounds like the Willie Nelson song, "I Am My Own Grandpa" to me....... Okay the incestuous inferences may well not be the case, but I am guessing that in a society such as the FLDS, where the men are hand picked and periodically culled by leaders to keep the ratio of men who all look suspiciously alike, to the flock of free range legless women roaming the grounds, in favor of the chosen few men...........well, let's just say that that line between barely legal(or not) and kinfolk versus no DNA match, probably tends to get a bit blurred at times.

I find it a little interesting that the FLDS statement disavowing any "more" marriages, spiritual or otherwise, among girls under the age of consent(16 in Tejas)to older fellas, coincided with the judges' ruling to let some of the sect's children in foster care, go back to the "Yearning For Zion". By the way Mr. Jeffs, I am a guy.........I know what you and your boys are really yearning for. Wink, wink. Anyway, sounds like a little behind the scenes negotiating might have been going on between the state's legal system, and the sect lawyers to me. 

The very practice of periodic ex-communication of "unworthy" men in the sect, and the subsequent reassignment of wives, seems to be slanted in favor of keeping the above mentioned ratio intact to me, doesn't it you? I have a proposal for those who would practice plural marriages. Make it legal. But make it so that in the case of such marriages, the women are at any time, allowed an uncontested divorce, only for the asking. Oh, and keep Texas' community property law in place......so that in any such divorce, the departing wife gets HALF of the estate........with each subsequent departing wife and deductions......er, children, getting half of what is left. I think such a law and arrangement, when enforced, whould pretty well keep a lid on polygamy, don't you? And just to keep it honest, let's let the law go both ways. Let's allow any woman to have as many husbands as she wants. I'm sure guys would just be beating down the county clerk's door to get those marriage licenses to be the fourth or fifth in line at the old lights out, sackeroo time.......ya reckon? Wouldn't be long after that a whole new industry would pop up. Right next to the Ziz Zag rolling papers, Spanish Fly, and Stimulant/male enhancement packets sitting there at Mustafa's corner Shell Store, would be the latest rage.........home DNA field test kits.

Oh, and on top of all of this, I think the State of Texas showed some illegal, heavy handed gestapo tactics with their little raid on the Nuevo/Retro Mormon Oasis. When all is settled, it will likely turn out as a pretty little divorce lawyer told me once: "In the end the winners will be the lawyers, and the losers will be the kids".

Maybe I am being overly dramatic here, but I really don't think so. A friend of mine, the Grey-Beard Loon, regularly, either in his blog, or in person, to me or anyone who will listen, bemoans both the quality of reporting and the general state of the printed news business these days. Due to his long history with newspapers, I put a lot of stock in what he says, all the while getting little indicators on my own that what he says is true. One of the really strong arguments that such is the case, can be found right here in the Advocate, and in it's recent morphing into something that is attempting to be "with it" and e-hip, rather than staying with what your dad and grandfather, picked up covered with dew, and read over coffee each and every day......without fail. Maybe you dig the "ranging reporters, myface "blogs", and basically allowing the general public and a young underpaid staff to report the news(and in all fairness, and before I **** everyone off, there are a few pretty good and ballsy writers among those I mentioned). The fact is, that the chameleon nature of this paper and many others, is as I see it, is nothing more than an attempt to justify continuing to print it each day, as profits dwindle with circulation, staying a step or two ahead of the grim reaper. There will come a time in my life, that it will all be online, I am fairly certain of that. Another indication of the shrinking circulation of the print editions, is that The Chronicle, the S.A. paper, and some of the other larger ones, have redrawn their circles of distribution much closer to their offices. I don't know about in Victoria, but you can't find a Chronicle in Seadrift or Port Lavaca anymore. Just a sign of the times, as Craigslist gobbles up advertising revenue, and the internet now, essentially covers this generation's news (if you want to call it that)needs.

So what prompted this quiet little tirade, you ask? Why did I pick today to rag on newspapers, and  take a slap at the very folks who allow me access to this soap box?

Because I am PISSED! This morning, as I made my way to the office at 5AM, I pulled in and parked my truck next to the camel, for my regular paper stop. It should have been a tip off, that there was only about half or less, of the usual number of papers in the stack , but I didn't snap to that. I didn't really even look at the headlines for that matter, to tell you the truth, as at 5AM, & BC(before coffee) focusing is not one of my strong points. That's one of the reasons I go in early - light enough traffic, that I need only distinguish between red and green and whether the lights in front of me are tail lights or brake lights……. Oh yeah, PISSED, right......so what happened ? Well there was an unusually long line of migrants lined up to give Mustafa their hard earned for phone cards, Cokes and such, so I just as I am prone to, laid my four bits on the counter ahead of the crowd, and ambled back toward the door and my truck. All of a sudden, in a booming jihad voice, usually reserved for shoplifters and unruly children, Mustafa screams SIR!, SIR!. Assuming the voice was directed at me, since Julio, Jesus, and Joaquin were standing there about a foot from the screaming terrorist with their ears covered, I turned and was about to ask "You......talkin' to......ME?" when he blurted out......."my friend(everybody is my friend to Mustafa), paper now seventy five cent". First as I was starting to try to focus, all I could mutter was "no way", to which Mohammed replied "yes, way". Once motivated, I actually focused on the upper right hand corner, and sure as ****, right there in newsprint was the news that for once, should have been the headline.....VOL. 107 - NO.233 75 CENTS. That's a 50% raise in price, folks!

Sad fact is I'll pay it, (probably continue to pitch a b**** about it for a while) and considering that The Advocate is still fifty cents(it is, isn't it.....I hope this news doesn't give them any ideas and screw it up for the rest of you), I suppose it's a hell of a deal, to get a big city daily for seventy five. It's just the idea. Four bucks for a gallon of gas, and six bits for the morning paper.......hell, it's cheaper to just stay in bed........

Oh, and to add insult to injury, when retrofitting the gazillion newsracks around town to now not crack open for less than "seventy five cent now", they had the gall to print over the coin slot "this machine accepts dollar coins". You think it gives change?????? so in addition to a price increase, it looks like they are asking for donations to boot. In their defense, I must add that newspapers are one of the few products that are sold in racks on the honor system. Don't they know that there is no honor among thieves? I am fairly certain that for a while at least, there will be those who will pay their "seventy five cent" and when the door opens, grab three or four papers, and try to turn a profit at the office...........

Have I mentioned that I have several bird's nests around my front door? Barn Swallows, they are I believe. My kids tell me they scare them sometimes, swooping down close as they return to their nests. This morning, as I was returning from getting the paper, I noticed on the steps, a tiny, speckled, shattered and splattered birds egg. I could only say "Awwwwwww" to myself, as I tried to be respectful, and not step in it as I carried the lottery results up the steps to my coffee table. Later, as I sat cracking and whisking a bowl full of eggs to scramble for breakfast, It hit me like a brick in the face. I found myself actually contemplating what I was doing, as I so callously stirred the embryos in the skillet. The more I thought about it, I realized.................that to get the breakfast I was preparing, by actually hunting and gathering, ..........that it would have required about fifty Barn Swallow eggs to equal about four of Eggland's Best. Save for the starving, murderous stray cats, the wild birds are still safe. I'll be continuing to gather my huevos at H.E.B.