Don’t Feed the Bears

The animal related news just keeps coming.

http://www.cnn.com/2007/WORLD/europe/08/20/bear.death.reut/index.html?eref=rss_topstories

A man was found naked, dead, and half-eaten in a bear cage at the Belgrade Zoo during the annual beer festival. That sentence alone raises some pretty scary questions. Of course the most obvious, what was the man doing in the bear cage to start with? Followed closely by, what was he doing in the bear cage with no clothes on?

The zoo director speculated that the man might have been drunk or drugged or an idiot. I'm thinking all three sound pretty likely to me. Think about it, there were plenty of other people at the beer festival and surely many of them were drunk, many of them were drugged, and many of them were idiots. Only one of them was found dead and naked in the bear cage.

So, I imagine that this guy had a pretty serious case of beer goggles. He looked over and saw Mama Bear bent over foraging for a snack. He decided to get naked, jump in, and get a little fuzzy loving. He got a little more than he bargained for.

Down Under Thunder

Anyone who’s ever owned a male dog knows all about getting their leg humped by their pet. Imagine if the pet weighed 336lbs, though.

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/asia-pacific/6954728.stm

At that weight, a simple leg humping is more akin to barnyard rape, and it can be quite dangerous. As a matter of fact, an Australian woman was killed by her pet camel when it knocked to the ground and tried to mount her. Previously, the family goat had been nearly suffocated during one the camel’s amorous adventures.

Now what I want to know is, exactly what do you have to look like to be the “object of the male camel’s desire”? Are humps on your back a prerequisite or is it just a bonus? Do you need to bare your teeth anytime you get frustrated? And should you spit huge globs of snot on random passerby?

It just makes you wonder about what else was going on at that farm. Camels, goats, and people. Freaky!

What Would You Come Back As?

The Chinese are everywhere. All of my electronics are made there. Most of my clothes are made there. Many of the people that I've worked with over the years are from there. Many of our cars are made there (and the ones that aren't use parts that are made there anyway). And they house a huge portion of the world's population.

It seems to me that China can do pretty much whatever it sets its mind to. There's really nothing in our modern culture that they don't at least have a hand in. Except death.

Even that is changing, though: http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/20227400/site/newsweek/

China has now banned Buddhist monks in Tibet from reincarnating without government permission. You're probably thinking the same thing I was thinking: What?

As I understand it, reincarnation among Buddhists has to do with your life force and karma. The two things combine somehow and determine your reincarnation path. To be pretty simplistic, good people get good reincarnations as better people, bad people might come back as rats or roaches. I don't recall ever hearing about someone having control over reincarnation.

I wonder how this new ruling is going to be enforced, though. Is the government going to come to your private Buddhist school one day and have all the first graders tell who they were in a previous life? Anyone admitting to having been a monk from Tibet is cleared against a list of approved reincarnations. How long do you think it takes before all the kids are just admitting to being reincarnations of Elvis and Marilyn Monroe?

And can they use this rule in other law enforcement situations? Say, for example, a guy gets pulled over for speeding. The police officer checks the driver's information and realizes that this is the third time this week that the driver has been pulled over. "Listen, man, you know the rule. Three strikes, buddy. I've got to report this to the GRUB (Government Reincarnation Usage Board). Driving like this, you'll be lucky to come back as a snail."

Gettin’ Hitched

Most of the country likes to poke fun at Arkansas for a variety of reasons, and many of the jokes that are made have something to do with questionable marriage practices. As a result, the state really can't afford to make mistakes in that area, but they have.

http://www.comcast.net/news/national/index.jsp?cat=DOMESTIC&fn=/2007/08/17/741951.html&cvqh=itn_toddler

Before July 31, 2007, girls could marry at age 16 and boys could marry at age 17 both with parental consent. In trying to move to a more modern outlook on marriage ages, the legislature attempted to create a new law setting the minimum age at 18 across the board. Apparently everyone in the Arkansas legislature was educated in their fine home state, so the law came out reading thus:

"In order for a person who is younger than eighteen (18) years of age and who is not pregnant to obtain a marriage license, the person must provide the county clerk with evidence of parental consent to the marriage."

Did you catch that? Anyone under the age of 18 that is not pregnant can get married with parental consent. Quite effectively, they have created a law that does the exact opposite of what they intended. Basically, anyone can get married in Arkansas.

I imagine that it would be a boon for tourism. All the pedophiles are going to see the state as one big outlet mall for kids, and once they're married every other state will recognize their relationship as valid and legal. And all the kids that think they're old enough to get married are going to flock there in droves with handwritten forgeries of their parent's consent just to try their luck with the county clerk.

Move over Vegas. Arkansas is the new place to be for weddings.

In response to the mistake, a code revision commission tried to correct the mistake, but they couldn't get it done. Unbelievable. How hard is it to remove one word? Most places it's a few taps on the delete key, but I'm not sure they have computers yet. A bottle of whiteout doesn't cost that much, though, does it? Or are these guys still inscribing laws on stone tablets with a hammer and chisel?

My favorite, though, is a quote from one of their Senators, "You're either pregnant or you're not pregnant…Rarely will that be a typographical error."

Does that make sense to anyone else? I'm wondering if every once in a while an Arkansas doctor steps into the waiting room to address the family and says, "Well, folks, it was a good strong labor, and we did all that we could, but in the end we had to admit that it was just a typographical error. Sorry, no grandkids today."

How Wrong Can You Be?

One of the big topics of the upcoming election season is going to be global warming. Almost everyone in the race will say that it is a real phenomenon caused by man, and they will almost all say that they have the right plan for how to handle it. I'm still not convinced that global warming is anything more than a political scare tactic that benefits radical, tree-hugging organization like Greenpeace. Take this article for instance:

http://www.universetoday.com/2007/08/17/arctic-ice-coverage-will-shrink-to-2050-projections-this-summer/

Apparently, some scientists (the United Nations Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change) predicted that the area of the Arctic Sea covered by ice would shrink to about 4.5 million square kilometers by 2050. Now, a different set of scientists (the Japan Agency for Marine-Earth Science and Technology and the Japan Aerospace Exploration Agency) are observing the current coverage area of ice in the Arctic Sea and are forecasting that the coverage area will shrink to 4.5 million square kilometers by mid-September, 2007. I think most people are going to read this and assume the worst. We've screwed up our planet so bad that things are spiraling out of control at an alarming rate, and we might not be able to fix it.

I think that the IPCC, though, gets much closer to the truth. When asked about the predictions, they responded, "The IPCC forecast cannot adequately explain what is now happening in the Arctic Sea." Basically, they're saying, "We don't have a freakin' clue."

Personally, I think that about sums it up. They don't know. The scientists want you to believe that they know. They want you to think that they've got all the data and that they've got all the answers. But the truth is that they are just guessing and then using the data to test and see if their guesses are anywhere close to being correct. All this article proves to me is that not only can we not predict the weather for this weekend, but we can't do any better job of predicting the weather for the next decade.

Big Brother’s Watching

I ran across an article that seemed too absurd to really be entirely true, so I did a little research. Much to my surprise, the original article that I read is, in fact, based entirely in truth. I'll share the articles that I've found and some of my own thoughts and then you let decide what you think about this.

http://www.tsa.gov/press/releases/2006/press_release_0684.shtm - Press Release from TSA

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/20298840/site/newsweek/page/0/ - Newsweek commentary (original article I read)

http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2006/10/27/AR2006102701478.html - Washington Post commentary

The Newsweek and Washington Post commentaries have opposing views on the situation, so you should probably read them both to form your own opinion.

The basics of the situation is the TSA is recruiting, hiring, and placing "Behavior Detection Officers" (has a distinctly Orwellian ring, doesn't it?) in airports around the country. As a part of the TSA's Screening Passengers by Observational Techniques (SPOT) program, these employees have the task of flagging anyone that looks suspicious and pulling them aside for questioning.

Now that I know about this program, I think that I'd like to have some fun with it. As I stand in line at the airport wondering why I can't take a bottle of water through security, but I can take a bladder full of water that I just chugged even though it's not in a clear bag, I might just have to start making funny faces; just to see if they can discern my true intentions or not.

Imagine standing in line with a pained look on your face. Most people wouldn't notice, but the BDO is alert and hops right over to you. "Where are you going today, sir?" they ask. Right about that time, you let loose a fart that's been building since you left your house.

"Oops. Sorry about that guys. I didn't think I could take lethal gas through the security checkpoint with me."

How to Beat the Wrap

There are movies, songs, and video games centered on the idea of getting away with a crime. In some, the criminals are just criminals that earn our respect because they're not the worst of the characters. In others, the criminals are fighting some larger evil so their actions are justified. And in many, someone gets wrapped in duct tape before it's all over.

Generally speaking, the victim of the duct tape is a hostage of the criminals and the duct tape may be used to secure them to a chair, seal their mouth to prevent screaming, or in one particular movie to force a staged suicide (Shooter, if you didn't know). Honestly, I've never seen any medium where the criminals used duct tape as a disguise. But they say truth is stranger than fiction.

So, imagine that you are sitting at home one day and you're really in need of some cash. You decide that you've tried all the legitimate methods that you can stand, so you're going to turn to crime. Of course, you don't want to be caught or identified, so you'll have to cover your face. You look around to see what you can use.

A leftover plastic bag from the grocery store catches your eye. That seems like a good idea. You put the bag over your head and quickly realize that it will never work. You can only make out odd shapes through the murky plastic. You can barely breathe as the bag covers your mouth and nose tighter and tighter. And what's that smell? How old is this bag anyway? You barely have enough sense to take the bag off your head before you suffocate.

How about that paper bag instead? You slide it over your head and the world goes dark. You can still breathe, but you're starting to hyperventilate from your fear of the dark. It's a good thing you've got a paper bag handy. You bend over to catch your breath and the bag slips off your head. It'll never work.

Quickly, you run through more options with similar results. The pantyhose from your wife's gym bag smells funny. The sheet keeps slipping off your head. You can't see through the bandana. You need something that's versatile enough to provide a disguise that won't fall off and won't cover your eyes.

Then it hits you. Duct tape. MacGyver used it all the time. As a matter of fact, he probably said something like, "There ain't nothing that can't be fixed with duct tape." And you've got some in your garage right now.

You grab the duct tape and slowly start wrapping it around your head. Carefully, you avoid covering your eyes, nostrils, and mouth. It would be completely stupid to tape those closed. Only an idiot would do that. And when you're done, you admire your new disguise in the bathroom mirror. You look like something from an old sci-fi movie, but that's okay. In order to pull off this crime you're going to need to strike fear in your victim's heart. Truly, you need to become someone else.

And that's when you realize the most important part of your disguise. You've got to become someone else. When MacGyver used duct tape, he was still MacGyver. All you are right now is you with duct tape. You can't be you. You don't want to go to jail. And a good disguise isn't just about changing your appearance it's about changing who you are. When Beavis pulled his shirt up over his head, he wasn't Beavis anymore. He was Cornholio. When you pull your shirt up over your head, you'll be the greatest criminal mind ever.

So, with your shirt pulled over your head and duct tape covering your face, you head out to the local liquor store to get some spending money. Unfortunately, this particular liquor store has its own use for duct tape. They've got it wrapped around the end of a billy club so as cover the injuries they're going to put in your sorry hide when they open a case of whoop @$$ on you. Fleeing the scene you soon discover that they've also got a 220lb linebacker on staff that's just been itching to tackle something all day.

Of course, all of this is just fictional. It never really happened. So when the police pick you up, wrapped in duct tape, with your shirt pulled up over your head, you keep your mouth shut. After all, you're not an idiot. And when they finish unwrapping the duct tape from your face and ask you what you were doing, you tell them truth:

The last thing you remember is going to sleep on your couch. If some idiot was holding up a liquor store with duct tape all over his face, why did you arrest me and not him?

And now for the real truth:

http://www.wsaz.com/news/headlines/9129056.html#

Be sure to watch both of the videos. The newscast is funny, but the unedited interview is my favorite.

Redneck Games

I can't really add anything to this. It's too funny on it's own:

http://www.nbc5i.com/news/13850604/detail.html?rss=dfw&psp=news

Oh. Okay. I'll try.

The article says that Oscar Still – we'll call him "Moonshine" – organized the Redneck Games somewhere southeast of Dallas. Apparently, one of the rules is that "Being a Redneck is allowed….Ignorance is not." I'm not really sure that sentence makes much sense to me. I thought the two went hand in hand. Ignorance and redneck, I mean. And, apparently, with all the citations and arrests that occurred at this latest Redneck Games, they didn't do a very good job of outlawing ignorance in the first place.

I'm more interested in the games that were supposedly played at this event. For example, an ugly "butt-crack contest?" First of all, who wants to be a judge for that? And second of all, how do you judge that? "Whoa! Bubba, you got some serious dingle berries there, man! You know that's illegal. You can't have any decoration in your butt-crack!" And what's the prize for winning the contest? Toilet paper or a hair removal system?

Or how about the "Mattress Chunk" in which two teams race to drink a case of beer, then drive a truck, and then see who can throw a mattress from the truck the farthest. It wasn't clear whether the truck was still moving during the throwing phase or not, but I imagine that after the case of beer there were a lot of variations anyway. Of course, I also imagine that after a case of beer and driving across a muddy field, the "Chunk" part of this game may not have been referring to tossing the mattress.

Finally, they also had a "Daisy Duke Show-Off" for women in cut-offs. My guess, though, is that that part of the games wasn't scheduled until after everyone had had at least one case of beer, and was a welcome relief for the butt crack judges.

The neighbor says that just having this going on across the street is destroying his life. I say, as long as it going down the drain, you might as well go across the street and have some fun with it.

Shake It, Baby

Honestly, I've never been to a strip club. I've never seen a strip show. I've never really had a desire. Of course, I understand the concept. I've watched plenty of cop movies, and everyone knows that in order for the detective to crack the big case he has to turn in his badge and go to the strip club. All of the baddest criminals in the world own or at least hang out in strip clubs. I guess that's part of the reason why I never wanted to go. I'm not a criminal or a detective.

The truth is that I've known some guys that went to strip clubs, and they all said the same thing. They all said that the women were not really worth the money. Now it might have just been the clubs that they were going to, but they all reported that the women looked like they'd been rode hard and put up wet and that most of them were probably wearing bags over their heads during the riding part. So, why bother? If I wanted to see a bunch of naked women, I could always just go and get a nice, fresh copy of Playboy or some other staged and airbrushed photo filled magazine.

All of that was right up until I saw this article yesterday:

http://www.nbc5i.com/news/13817761/detail.html?rss=dfw&psp=nationalnews

Apparently, the next time that I'm in Port St. Lucie, I need to hire Ms. Nantz. According to the police report, she only turned away from her client for a few seconds and when she looked back he was passed out. Now, that, my friends, must be one heck of an @$$.

Of course I wonder if he really passed out, or if he just wanted to get around that pesky no touching rule. After Ms. Nantz noticed that he was not breathing, she immediately started CPR, which reminds me of scene from the movie The Sandlot. In the movie, one of the kids fakes drowning so that the lifeguard he has a crush on will perform mouth-to-mouth on him. It worked in the movie….sort of. Why not try it with a stripper?

I think the guy is lucky that Ms. Nantz knew CPR. Without her quick thinking, he might not have made it. So, I wonder if CPR training is something that all strippers receive just in case something like this happens? Or do they judge the need for you to know CPR based on some "hotness" factor. Is the management of the club trying to determine the likelihood that you would make a client pass out? And do girls at both ends of the scale receive training?

I mean some of the girls would be so unbelievably that men might pass out from excitement. On the other hand, some of them could be so wrinkled and nasty that you'd pass out in fear that she might want to give you a free lap dance. I'm betting that Ms. Nantz is not the latter since she was invited to the home of her customer for a private show.

Six Flags

I really feel that I owe much of my amusement park enjoyment to Hamel's Park. If you're not from Northeast Louisiana, you might not have ever heard of Hamel's Park, but if you grew up in Shreveport during the 80's, you almost certainly spent countless hours there. Hamel's Park was one of the only amusement parks in Louisiana for a long time, and was the place where that fueled my hunger for bigger, faster, twistier roller coasters.

The coaster at Hamel's was relatively tame. There wasn't even a train, it was a single car that seated four and went through a simple series of hills and turns over the course of a few seconds, but since it was the only game in town, we rode it over and over and over again. By the about the fourth ride, I was ready for something more. That's where Six Flags over Texas came into my life.

Once I started going to Six Flags on a fairly regular basis, I was already addicted to thrill rides, and most of theirs put the old roller coaster at Hamel's Park to shame. I rode them all. I loved them all.

Now my kids are old enough to ride the big roller coasters. At least Reagan and Abbie are big enough anyway, and they both wanted to go to Six Flags for their birthday. Since their birthdays are so close together, we just decided to go ahead and take them out to Six Flags this past Saturday, and they were completely pumped about getting on the big coasters.

My idea was to start them out small and get them ready for the really big rides, but the kids had a different idea. I managed to get them to start with the bobsled ride; a pretty worthless ride to wait in line for if you ask me, but easy for everyone (including Emma) to enjoy. After that, Reagan and Abbie declared that they were ready for more. They wanted to go straight to the Batman coaster.

The Batman coaster is my personal favorite out there. I love the fact that you hang below the track and that it inverts you five times. It's just a great ride. I was thinking that instead of the kids going there first, we should start them with the Runaway Mine Train or Judge Roy Scream. They're not really experienced coaster riders, and Batman seemed like jumping in the deep end before you learned to swim.

The kids wouldn't hear any of it, though. If only they had a chance to ride that coaster at Hamel's, then maybe they would be a little more prepared for what was coming. We stood in line to ride in the very first car. Nothing in front of us but open air. It was great for me, and the kids were both very excited. At least they were right up to the point where we got to the top of the hill. As the train started down through the course, they both went white as a sheet and the tears and screams started pouring out like they'd never cried before in their lives.

They wouldn't even talk when we got done. I really think that they thought we were going to die. All they wanted to do was go sit in a quiet corner and mumble to themselves. They certainly didn't ever want to get on another roller coaster.

Later in the day, the shock of Batman had worn off, and as memories often do they forgot the trauma and remembered it having been not so bad. They believed that they were ready for another coaster. Again, I thought of good ones for them to try, but they didn't want to listen to me. They were ready for Titan. One of the tallest in the world, Titan is a load of fun.

It's the longest coaster ride at Six Flags and probably the fastest at 85 mph. As a matter of fact, shortly after it was built, they had to change some of the braking in the middle of the ride because passengers were literally passing out from the speed and G force (up to 4.5 Gs). After what I saw on Batman, I was not so sure that the kids were ready for this, but they were. So we stood in line for Titan and got all the way up to the point of boarding the train when Reagan decided that she wasn't up to the challenge. Abbie, on the other hand, sat down, strapped in, and was ready to go.

At least she was ready to go until we got about halfway up that hill. Then she started thinking that this might not have been such a good idea after all. She screamed until she couldn't scream any more and then was reduced to tears, heaving, and talking to herself. It was not good, and she was firm in her conviction that she would never get on another roller coaster again. Ever. All she wanted to do was suck her thumb and hold a blankie.

Reagan, not having been through the experience, wanted to try the Judge Roy Scream. It was enjoyable, and Reagan had a lot of fun on the ride. So much so that she was able to convince Abbie to ride the Runaway Mine Train. It was already after dark by this point, and Abbie was only agreeing to this because there was no upside down and no big hills. She did pretty well on it; I think helped by the fact that she finally sat beside me on the ride and I could tell her what was about to happen. But once we got to then end, the one little hill on the ride, followed by a trip through the tunnel (which was pitch black since it was dark out), she was once again in tears.

I really hope that my kids are not permanently scarred from riding the big roller coasters because I love to ride them, and I want to enjoy that with my children for years to come. Honestly, though, Abbie may not ever even want to drive by an amusement park again. No, really, she did great, and I did tell her repeatedly how proud I was that she at least tried them out, and I reminded her repeatedly that they're never as bad the second time around.

After all of that, the park was preparing to close, but they were also getting ready for the Coobrila (Cooler, Brighter, Later) circus show. Of course, we had to hang around to see that, and I will admit that it was definitely cool. The many different acrobats that performed were really amazing, although, I did have to wonder what kind of kinky stuff inspired some of the acts when I saw men flipping other men upside down and lifting them up to their faces. And I'll never understand the practical use for being able to balance yourself on one hand on the top of a big bald guy's head. I guess that ranks up there with the guys that pull trains with their teeth. Who knows what inspired them, it's just cool to see.

All in all, it was a great day at the amusement park and nearly everyone fell asleep on the way home. After all, it was nearly midnight when we finally got back to the van.

Why Do We Do It?

Two related articles caught my eye this week, and they are both related to sex. I know it's surprising that a guy would be interested in articles about sex. I'll bet someone somewhere did a study to find out that articles on sex would at least get men to think about reading. Whether they did or not, I don't know. What I do know is that someone did a study on why we have sex.

http://www.nbc5i.com/health/13796065/detail.html?rss=dfw&psp=news

Amazingly, the researchers discovered that the top reasons for both men and women included words like "pleasure," "feels good," and "horny." I thought it was really surprising that there are basically no people having sex for the sake of making babies. I guess that tells us something about how far we've come as a society.

In the old days, Ma and Pa were getting it on because Pa was tired of having to walk behind that "dadburn mule" all day long and Ma was sick and tired of doing all the "warshin" on her own. Sure it took more food to feed the hungry little buggers, but that was a small price to pay for being able to rest your feet every once in a while. And when I look at some of the pictures of the old days, I can't imagine any of the words used to describe sex today would come into play.

I think it must really take commitment to the species to get frisky with someone that doesn't have running water (translation = no bath in a month, and no idea how to use a razor). Really, I think the overarching reason that so many people are having sex now is the invention of indoor plumbing and shaving cream. Without that, the species may well have died out with the wagon train.

Of course, there's no accounting for taste, which brings us to the second article.

http://www.nbc5i.com/news/13813001/detail.html?rss=dfw&psp=nationalnews

Apparently, not everyone was surveyed in the article on why people have sex, and animal torture must have just missed the list. This couple, since they obviously can't be content to keep their privates private, have been arrested for torturing animals during sex. I'm not going to be real picky about the details here, because let's face it, animals, sex and torture is not a combination that I really want to hear a lot of details about. I did, though, pick up a few phrases, so I know that a video camera was involved and that the animals ended up dead.

I imagine that forcing animals to watch crazy people hump like wild animals may have driven the frog, chameleon, and parakeet involved in this crazy little game to commit the first animal mass suicide. That just seems so much more likely to me than the accusation that this couple killed them while having sex. I mean, doesn't everyone want to do the nasty in front of their pets?

Seriously, the bigger question is, what are the odds? What are the odds that two people that are both into sex, torture, and animals happened to meet and get married? I don't even know how you would bring that up in conversation. Were they both at a crazy, animal sex/funky torture, singles bar when they met? It's just wrong on so many levels as to defy my comprehension.

Just so everyone knows, I'm not into torture, but I do enjoy animals (as pets, not sex toys) and of course, I like to do "it" every once in a while for many of the same reasons as the rest of you. And if it were any different, there's no way I'd tell you.

What the Crap?

There are dirty jobs, like they show on TV with Mike Rowe, and then there are crappy jobs that you don't even want to admit you have. How would you like to be the guy that designed toilets for a living?

http://www.livescience.com/history/070730_flushing_toilets.html

Apparently, there's a market for it. According to a sociologist named Quitzau (which sounds to me like something I heard while sitting on the toilet once right before I said, "Thank you, Jesus, for handrails."), we are at a crossroads in terms of dealing with other people's crap.

Amazingly, he discovered that a hole in the ground is still prevalent in parts of Asia, Europe, and Africa. I didn't even have to do study to imagine that. How could they have it any other way when they don't have running water? So, right off the bat, I know that we've got a crack team on this.

So, who really wants the job of telling the Western world that flushing toilets is bad because there are huge parts of the world with no drinking water? Personally, I don't know why anyone would want to drink out of a toilet, but I guess if you're thirsty enough….

The real problem, Quitzau reveals, is that currently toilet technology is focused on convenience, comfort, and design. Why would we want it to not be focused on that? If I'm going to be in there reading a chapter or two of my latest novel, about the only thing on my mind is convenience, comfort, and design.

I don't care what happens to all that crap after it leaves my house just as long as it leaves.

Pigeon Problems

What will we think of next? Hollywood, the city not the industry, has a pigeon problem, and they believe that they've come up with a solution. Of course, being on the far left coast, they had to come up with the most insane and yet humane method of dealing with the issue, and that led to the creation of the Pigeon Pill.

http://www.myfoxdfw.com/myfox/pages/Home/Detail?contentId=3930341&version=2&locale=EN-US&layoutCode=TSTY&pageId=1.1.1

Given that too many Hollywood residents have been feeding the birds, there is an extremely large population of pigeons in and around Hollywood. This, of course, leads to all kinds of mess not the least of which is, surprisingly, pigeon mess. Rather than poison the birds, have hunters shoot the birds, install spikes on rooftops, or put in electric shock gates, the city has elected to continue feeding the birds with food laced with a Pigeon Birth Control Pill. I'm sure that this is going to cost millions more than a couple of boxes of shotgun shells and will definitely take a much longer time, but at least everyone can feel good about themselves while they sit on pigeon poop covered park benches watching the birds amorously hump each other to death with no hope of ever having offspring. Just take a look at the picture associated with this article to see what I mean.

The plan, while a little questionable in my mind, projects the pigeon population will be cut in half by 2012. I expect that the pigeons will figure out the game before then and either we'll see a dramatic increase in pigeon promiscuity ("Mommy, what's that gang of pigeons doing to the little one?") translating into out-of-town pigeons visiting just to party (much like Hollywood for adults), or the birds will start eating elsewhere. Either way, I think the pigeon pooper scoopers will be in business for a long time.

Weekend in Sachse

Starting last Thursday night, Aunt Sis and I embarked a weekend for the ages. Grandmother and Granddaddy (her parents) were planning to come over for a visit to see her new place. This would be their first time in town since Aunt Sis moved back from Oregon, and their first time to Sachse. At first, we thought it would be okay to send them a map and wait for their arrival on Friday morning, but as I started drawing the map I realized the obvious dilemma: there are a lot of turns involved.

On the one hand, I could send them into Dallas, keep them on freeway most of the way here, and probably get a call sometime Friday afternoon from Mineral Wells (the other side of Fort Worth) asking us to help them find the 635 exit. Or, on the other hand, I could send them up the shorter route down a couple of state highways and farm roads and still get a call Friday afternoon from somewhere near the Oklahoma border asking whether they've missed the Hwy. 78 turn off. Neither scenario seemed very pleasant, so Aunt Sis and I decided that we would just meet them in Longview on Friday morning. Aunt Sis would drive their car, I would drive my truck, and we would all arrive safely.

Since Caci is moving, she had already offered to let Aunt Sis have her couch, and my truck would be needed to move it anyway, so we could just pick that up as a part of our trip and kill two birds with one stone. It was a brilliant plan, and after my softball game Thursday night we set off to put everything in motion. We left Dallas about 9pm, and we made good time to Kilgore. We decided to go ahead and pick up the couch on the way in because we also needed to stop by Mom's to get a bed for Reagan.

I just knew that I would have something way more interesting to write here when I pictured us moving a couch out of Caci's house in the middle of the night with her out of town. I figured this story would involve spotlights, police officers, and handcuffs, but apparently Caci's neighborhood watch is not all that active. We moved out a couch and a loveseat in the middle of the night, made a terrible racket, and no one even looked twice at us. The couch wasn't all that bad, thankfully, because I told Aunt Sis that if it was a sleeper sofa, then it was going to have to stay there. The real pain came when we tried to move the loveseat. I figured it couldn't be that bad. It's just a loveseat…..that reclines…..and apparently has the frame and suspension of a small Volkswagon hidden under the upholstery. My back is still sore, and Aunt Sis is going to have to hire movers to get that thing out of her duplex. I'm not touching it again.

We made it to Mom's a little before 1am, and I planned to park under the awning at Uncle Danny's trailer because the sky had been threatening to rain. Honestly, we had driven in rain all the way from Dallas to Kilgore and were blessed to not be rained on between Kilgore and Mom's. Anyway, knowing that Aunt Sis is afraid of dogs, I warned her that there has been a dog hanging around the property the last several months and that if she sees him, she should not freak out. I was just trying to be helpful. She didn't really see it that way.

When we pulled around the drive, I saw that Uncle Danny had a bunch of tools and things out under the awning, so I was going to need some guidance to get the truck backed in safely. Of course, I asked Aunt Sis to hop out and guide me back. She's thinking, "Yeah, right. You just want me to test the waters and make sure the hell hound isn't on the loose." And she probably threw in a memory or two of Mom telling her that the snakes come out at night. Aunt Sis didn't want to have anything to do with helping me back up under that awning, but she hopped out and we got things done.

The next morning, we got up early, loaded the bed in the truck, and set off for Longview to meet Grandmother and Granddaddy. Grandmother said that they would leave their house at "8am, SHARP!" So I planned to also leave Mother's at 8am figuring that would put us in Longview a few minutes ahead of them. We were going to meet at the McDonald's at Estes Parkway. I told them to look for the Estes Parkway exit. I told them that if they didn't see that, they should just know that it would be the third exit in Longview. I told them that if both of those ideas failed, just get off at exit 595. You can't even mess that up. Write it backward. It's still 595. How could this plan possibly go wrong?

As we got in the truck, Aunt Sis realized that she had missed a call while in the shower. She listened to her voicemail. Grandmother and Granddaddy had left Shreveport at 7:30am. They should be in Longview about half an hour ahead of us. Quickly, we called Grandmother on her cell. I don't think she uses it much, so we did have fun picturing her in the car when it starting ringing:

"Merwin, what's that noise?"

"What noise, honey?"

"There it goes again. Merwin, is the car okay?"

"I still don't hear anything."

"Merwin, it sounds just like a phone ringing."

"You brought that cell phone, I'll bet that's it."

"Oh my. Silly me. Of course it is……..'lo. Asthma Allergy Clinic. I mean, hello?"

Well, we did get her on the phone, and after about five minutes of Aunt Sis listening to her go on and on about how amazing it is to be able to talk to each other while we were in two different cars – "Why didn't anyone think of this sooner?" she asked; I thought they did and called them CBs – we found out where they were. They were nearing Waskom, so our timing was not too far off.

About ten minutes before we got to Longview, we called them again. I'm sure it was a replay of the first call as Grandmother tried to find the phone again, but we found that they had just, "shot right past that exit." What??? How could you shoot right past the exit with all the instruction that we gave???

At this point, we're really glad that we didn't just send a map. Our worst fears would certainly have been realized. Aunt Sis instructed them to tell her the exact exit number coming up, pull over, and wait for us. They were only one exit past where they were supposed to be, so it wasn't too bad. Granddaddy came to ride with me in the truck while Aunt Sis went to drive Grandmother's car, and then we were back on the road.

We pulled over in Lindale to get drinks and fuel, and Granddaddy hopped out of the truck alongside me so he could, "see how these Texas gas pumps work." Huh? "Don't they have gas pumps in Louisiana, Granddad?" I asked. He said that they sure did, but that he always paid the attendant inside the service station. Okay. I generally do the same, but this time I didn't have cash, so I used my card. I guess they don't have pay-at-the-pump wherever he's shopping because that was about the most amazing thing in the world to him. But nothing beat his reaction when I stopped pumping at $45. That's all I wanted to spend.

He said, "Do you have to use this little keypad for that?"

"For what?" I asked.

"So it'll know to stop at $45."

"No, I don't think you can do that. At least, I don't know how to if you can," I said.

"Well, then how did you get it to stop right at $45?"

"Ummm…..I let go of the handle."

Some things change. Some things remain the same.

As we were getting ready to go, I heard that Grandmother had noticed someone inside the store. I can only imagine how she classifies me, because she figured the fellow in the store was "tall and thin like a lawyer." If that's not motivation to put on a few pounds, then I don't know what is.

Continuing on toward Sachse, Granddad and I had some good conversation and it was soon time to exit I-20 in Terrell. He asked what we were doing because he wanted to keep up with where were going, so I told him. Unbelievably, a few minutes later he looks out the window and says, "I'll declare. Those houses must be new. I don't remember them being there." Odd, I thought. I had no idea Granddaddy had ever been to Terrell before. So I asked him about that. He thought for a second and said, "Well, I can't say that I ever recall going to Terrell. I guess that's probably why I don't remember those houses." Okay. Got me there, Granddad. I can't argue with that logic.

Finally, we made it to Sachse. Leah brought some lunch over to Aunt Sis's house and we all enjoyed some food before unloading those couches. Thankfully, that love seat didn't bump into any kids and kill them. With that thing opening and closing at random, it's about like trying to move wet concrete…..without a bucket.

Getting that done, though, just gave me a chance to take a bit of a break. Granddad and I went fishing. He brought some of his own gear and tackle, but it looked a bit out of shape, so I just let him use mine. After a few tries, he was able to remember how to work a rod and reel and we both had a good time catching some bluegill and perch up in Allen before dinner. We got to go to a friend of mine's pond the next day and spent a little bit of time catching some bass out there.

All in all, I think Granddad really enjoyed himself. I know I did, and Grandmother, I'm sure, just loved spending time with Aunt Sis and the kids. They got to see a couple of after dinner shows that my kids put on (they think up skits, songs, and commercials to perform in the living room) and spend time visiting and playing games with us. It was a really good time.

Oscar, Is That You?

I don't much care for cats. We had one as a pet for a while. It was somewhat interesting, but it's nothing compared to a dog that actually wants to be around you. I'm just glad that our cat wasn't named, Oscar, didn't live in a nursing home, and never killed anyone. The "Cat of Death" as I'll call him resides in Rhode Island, and apparently has the ability to either predict when patient's are going to die (as the nursing home workers suspect) or the ability to silently murder old people in their sleep (as I suspect). You can make your own judgement:

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/19959718

Now imagine working in a nursing home with the "Cat of Death." You're a highly trained medical professional, and you're scared of a cat. At least I would be. According to the article, the cat curls up next to people, and they die a few hours later. There's no way I'm feeding a mass murdering feline. It might decide it likes me and try to curl up in my lap. Sure, it would all look innocent. The sadistic little beast purring in my lap. His beady little eyes begging for me to scratch behind his ears. Well, we probably wouldn't even get that far. About the time that "Kitty from Hell" starting winding his way around my ankles, I'd be running home screaming like a girl.

On the other hand, I'd be scared to not feed it. I haven't put any food in his bowl all day, and I'm sitting in the break room eating my turkey sandwich. Cats like turkey. Cats like any kind of bird. This cat, though, just likes killing, and I'm now at the top of his list. I haven't fed him, and he's angry. Of course it all ends the same. I'm running home screaming like a girl, but this time I'm begging for my life and apologizing at the top of my lungs for not feeding that cat.

So, besides the fact, that having this cat on the premises seems to create a hostile work environment. How would you handle telling the family when they come to say goodbye to Grandpa? Do you tell them that the last time you checked he was doing fine and then this cat came in here and boom he's dead. How do you explain that you're not going to put the cat "down" just because he killed Grandpa? Grandpa was going to die anyway. And what do you about the little kids that want to play with the cat? The parents are bound to think you're nuts when you tell them that it's unsafe for the kids to be around this particular cat, but it's okay to keep it in the nursing home.

Me? I'm just glad that I don't have a cat, and right now I'm looking around hoping that none of Oscar's buddies are anywhere near. A cat like that can probably read and may well have already sent a crack team of cats, hamsters, and field mice to take me down on my way home this afternoon.

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

I've just finished re-reading Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix (OOTP) and Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince (HBP) in preparation for the upcoming Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows (TDH):

I'm most interested to find out what becomes of Snape. I think it's interesting that only two of the books have been titled around a single character: Prisoner of Azkaban and Half-Blood Prince. In the first, a seemingly evil character turns out to be good, and in the second, a seemingly good character turns out to be evil. Or does he?

I think you could make the argument that Dumbledore and Voldemort are mirror images of what Harry could become. One is absolutely good and one is absolutely evil. And along those same lines, I think that you could make a similar argument for the contrast between Sirius and Snape. One is a pureblood and one is not. One is good mistaken for evil and the other is evil mistaken for good. One wants to help Harry succeed and one wants to see him fail. And they both see Harry as an extension of his father, James, who one loved and the other hated.

I think that that argument is little too simplistic, though. Snape has had multiple opportunities to kill Harry and he has not taken advantage of any of them. As a matter of fact, in several different situations, Snape has actually saved Harry's life. He told Bellatrix at the beginning of HBP that he saved Harry from Quirrell because he didn't know that Quirrell was host to Voldemort, but why should that have mattered? If Snape was really on Voldie's side, he could have just done nothing. It certainly wouldn't gain him any points to save him – except with Dumbledore, and it wouldn't cost him anything to let him die.

At the end of OOTP, Snape chose to inform the Order that Harry and his friends were headed to the Ministry of Magic thus helping to guard Harry's safety and the safety of the prophecy. Again inaction would not have been questioned. He could easily have claimed that Harry didn't try to warn him or that he misunderstood the warning. Instead he passed the warning along and probably saved Harry's life.

Finally, at the end of HBP, Snape once again saved Harry's life from the other Death Eaters. And not only did he prevent them from cursing Harry to death, he prevented them from cursing Harry at all. He refused to fight Harry, and he refused to allow Harry to use any unforgiveable curses. In fact, when Snape told Harry that he would never win this fight because he wasn't a good Occlumens and he couldn't perform non-verbal spells, you could read that to be a tip rather than a jeer.

A lot of people, including Harry, believe that Snape was actually a double-agent and that he is in fact evil. I tend to not believe that. Dumbledore was not a fool, and exposing Snape as truly in league with Voldie would cast doubt on all of Dumbledore's past decisions. Harry believes that the reason Dumbledore trusted Snape was because Snape was repentant about the death of James and Lily Potter, but I think that there was a much better reason for Dumbledore to trust him. First, Dumbledore never actually told Harry the reason that he trusted Snape. He just told Harry that Snape's guilt over the deaths of Harry's parents was a turning point. Second, Dumbledore didn't trust Tom Riddle after any of the times that he expressed remorse, so why would he have trusted any of the Death Eaters on just a statement of remorse. There was bound to be a better reason.

I think that there is more of a connection between Harry and Snape than we have seen so far. I think that Snape has been intentionally mean to Harry to make sure that there is no possible way that anyone would think that he wanted to help him, but I think that Snape is going to be the biggest help to Harry when it comes to defeating Voldie. It's already been foreshadowed in HBP as Snape was the one that actually helped Harry continue in Potions by taking a new position, helped Harry succeed in potions as the unknown Half-Blood Prince, and helped Harry survive to fight again as he was leaving the castle. Harry is going to need Snape's help to accomplish his task and Snape is going to provide it.

I also have a couple of other kind of random thoughts. First, I think that there is more to the connection between Fawkes, Dumbledore, Harry, and Voldie than any of us realize. We all already know that Fawkes gave two feathers for wands and that those wands belong to Voldie and Harry. We also know that those two wands can't be used against each other as a result which makes it interesting to try and figure how Harry is going to kill Voldie (I also assume that Harry won't use an unforgiveable curse as that would be bad form for a good guy, don't you think?). More than that, though, I found it interesting in re-reading OOTP that when Harry recounted to Dumbledore that he had told Scrimgouer that he was Dumbledore's man, Fawkes sang and Dumbledore cried simultaneously. That got me to thinking back on how Fawkes had been the one to assist Harry when Dumbledore couldn't in Chamber of Secrets and how Fawkes had been the one to help Dumbledore communicate with Harry, Ron and Hermione in OOTP when Dumbledore couldn't be there. Finally, the most obvious connection of all is the fact that Dumbledore's patronus is a phoenix. Of course, how this connection is going to play out is anyone's guess, but I think it is interesting to note that the phoenix is legendary precisely becuase of its ability to survive death. In fact, death is a regular part of its life. Voldie has already resurrected from the dead once. Harry has already survived death once. So what does that mean for Dumbledore in the upcoming novel?

Another random thought is that it must be important that Harry has his mother's eyes. I can't tell you how many times I noticed that that was mentioned in just these last two books. I'll bet it's even more in the previous ones that I didn't re-read. How does that play into the situation? And why does it keep getting so much mention?

I just had to get all of this out before the book is published. Let me know your thoughts if you are interested.

Besieged at the Bar

How do you handle a situation where you're completely surrounded by men with guns?

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/19795748/?GT1=10150

From what I can gather out of this relatively short article, Mr. Dana Farrell Shelton was intoxicated on Sunday night and police were dispatched to investigate a disturbance at the bar where Mr. Shelton was drinking. By the time the police arrived, though, things seemed to have calmed down and they found no issues. The police just simply asked Mr. Shelton, who they noted was obviously intoxicated, to move along.

Mr. Shelton is apparently not a "happy drunk" and must have taken this request as a belligerent command for he obviously felt threatened. Here he was minding his own business, now that he'd gotten those crazies in the bar to leave him alone anyway, and a bunch of guys with guns have him surrounded and are trying to tell him what to do. He obviously had no choice but to call 911, and I can only imagine how that conversation went:

Officer on the scene 1 (oos1): What's he doing now?

Officer on the scene 2 (oos2): Oh, he just got out a cell phone…he's probably just calling a cab.

OOS1: Cool. Anybody want to hit the Krispy Kreme with me?

[Mr. Shelton was actually frantically dialing 911 for help and they had just answered]

911 Operator: 911. Please state the nature of your emergency.

Shelton: Yeah…..ummmmm……..yeah……..ummmmm……..they've got guns……ummmmm……yeah.

911: I'm sorry, sir, did you say that someone near you has a gun?

Shelton: Yeah……ummmmm……they've all got guns………yeah…….and I'm surrounded.

911: Sir, can you tell me where you are?

Shelton: Yeah…….I'm at the bar……I was just having a drink when they came in with guns.

OOS2: Hey, guys, did he just say he has a gun?

OOS1: Nah, he ain't got no gun. I think he said he was done having fun.

911: Sir, can you tell me anything about the men with guns?

Shelton: Sure……yeah……..well………here's the thing……..I'm kind of surrounded by Largo police……….and they've all got guns.

911: Is this joke, sir. Did you just say that you're surrounded by the police?

OOS1: Dude, he's talking about us.

OOS2: What did he say?

OOS1: Something about being surrounded by Largo police.

Shelton: Yeah…..ummm….that's right….I'm surrounded by police.

911: Sir, you do realize that you have dialed 911, right? We are the police.

Shelton: Well…….ummm……darn………I guess you're not going to help me then.

911: Sir, I would be happy to send some help just stay where you are.

OOS1: Did you guys hear that?

OOS2: Yeah, it sounded like dispatch just called us to help out a guy that's surrounded by us.

OOS1: Mr. Shelton, we're here to help. What do you need?

Shelton: Wow……ummmm….that was fast [hangs up his phone]……can you get rid of these guys with guns?

OOS1: Absolutely, just come with me.

The next thing Mr. Shelton knows he's being escorted off to jail with a misdemeanor charge for abusing the 911 system, but I want to know who else was he supposed to call in such a dire situation?

Possum Kingdom

We all went camping at Possum Kingdom State Park this past weekend with the Getz family. Kenton and Carla have four boys nearly the same ages as our four girls and one little girl tacked on the end. Yes, there was a total of nine children between our two campsites and only three adults for most of the time that we were there since Kenton didn't get there until Friday evening and Carla left Saturday morning.

Leah and Carla headed out Thursday afternoon to go ahead and get a campsite and stuff since I couldn't leave until after work Thursday afternoon. On the way, they relied a little too much on Google maps directions and got a little turned around in Weatherford. For some reason, though, when Leah called and told me that they were a little turned around, and I was on the internet looking at a detailed street map of where they were, she was not interested in me helping them get back on track. I tell you, I'll not ever understand women. All in all, they got there safely but managed to turn a 3 hour trip into a 5 hour journey.

While there, we had a nice relaxing weekend mostly spent just sitting around camp visiting. The lake was pretty muddy from all of the recent rain, and we couldn't find anywhere along the bank to catch fish. We did see a fair number of deer and rabbits and that's really where Dixie's little adventure came into play.

Dixie is our beagle, and her little pea brain only understands two things: (1) chase rabbit and (2) do it in a big circle. They say that beagles are very difficult to train, and I'll testify to the truth of that. Anyway, Dixie was mostly behaved through the weekend until Saturday night. She was in the kids' tent and she must have smelled some rabbit nearby. She found a small hole where the kids had not zipped the door completely closed and was gone for about an hour. We could hear her baying off in the woods but really had no way to catch her. Thankfully, that last part kicked in, and she came running back around a little while later, and we got her back.

We got home yesterday and still have stuff in the garage to pack back away until our next trip. I think it will probably be sometime in September. We don't know where yet, but I'm sure we'll come up with something.

What the H*LL?

Continuing the stream of name related thoughts that I've been pondering this week, I found two interesting articles yesterday.

First off, there is at least one study into this idea that names somehow relate to our lives: http://www.richardwiseman.com/quirkology/surname.html. Richard Wiseman (Is anyone surprised that a man named Wiseman likes to study stuff?) apparently studied the impact of surnames on daily life. In an online study he determined that people with surnames beginning with letters near the start of the alphabet tend to do better in life (i.e. perceived to be more successful) than those with surnames starting with letters closer to the end of the alphabet. His reasoning is that almost everything involving lists of names gets alphabetized by last name, so the Blair, Brown, Bush, Cameron, and Branson families are just used to being first and it's no wonder that they are massively well-known in our world today. That makes some sense, but it still doesn't cover why when I say that I met a guy yesterday named Brad that you all have an image in your mind of what a Brad ought to be.

In other name related news, a boy in Australia was denied enrollment at a Catholic school: http://www.nbc5i.com/education/13655937/detail.html?rss=dfw&psp=nationalnews. Given the recent publications of the Vatican you might think that the boy's family is Protestant, but it's really much simpler. The boy's name is Alex Hell. The good news is that besides having a great shot at being successful in life based on Mr. Wiseman's study, the school has backed down and granted Mr. Hell the right to enroll his son. After all of this debacle, though, Mr. Hell is not sure that he may not accept the enrollment offer.

I would have thought that the nuns would be all about enrolling little Alex Hell. It would give them an opportunity to cut loose without getting in trouble with their Mother Superior. I can just imagine the nuns trying to teach class and asking for volunteers:

"Awww, Hell, come on up here. I really do love it when you volunteer"

Or maybe they've gotten little frustrated because homework wasn't turned in on time:

"Hell, son, you've really got to get your act together."

Or they take the kids to the local skating rink for a field trip:

"That boy is Hell….on wheels."

Okay, so maybe some of those are lame. You think up some better ones and post them in your comments.

The One and Only Church

I know that I've already posted for today. Actually, I posted one thing from yesterday that I didn't get finished on time and one thing for today, but this article that I just read needed some commentary.

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/19692094/

In the news today, the Pope has approved publication of a paper stating that other denominations are not true churches and that they do not have a mechanism for salvation because they don't have apostolic succession. Is this guy serious? There's got to be more to this paper and the Pope's statements than what is reported in this article.

First of all, I'm pretty sure that there is no biblical basis for saying that salvation comes through apostolic succession. By the way, that means that you can trace the lineage of your bishops back to the original twelve apostles. Anyway, I thought Christ was pretty clear that He is the one and only mechanism for salvation.

Second of all, does this mean that all of the churches that Paul founded were not real churches? Paul was not one of the original twelve, he was not sent by the original twelve, in fact, he got crossways with the original twelve more than once. So the churches that he founded don't have apostolic succession and therefore are not real churches. If that is the case, then why does Christ speak directly to some of them as churches in Revelation? And why do we include Paul's letters to those non-churches in the church canon? Surely it's not theologically correct for Paul to tell them that they have salvation when they don't have apostolic succession.

I don't really understand how someone as intelligent as the Pope – you know they don't let dummies into that job – could publish something like this. It's completely contrary to my understanding of the history of the church, and regardless of all that it is bound to polarize a large population of both Catholics and Protestants against him. I really wonder if this guy doesn't want to take the Catholic church back to the Dark Ages and pretend that the Reformation didn't really happen.