A meme for my friend

Utah Savage has tagged me again with a meme that I found very interesting just for the fact I’ve never really thought about most of this stuff.

Where do I buy my clothes?

The simple answer to that would be from Target or Wal-Mart. Now I understand that both of the places I just mentioned are not kind to their employees and families; buy almost all of what they stock from overseas where it is made by what is close to slave labor, and have pushed many locally owned businesses into extinction. The main reasons I have to buy stuff from them are availability, cost, and size. The clothes I wear are fairly simple: t-shirts, cargo shorts, jeans, sneakers or my hippy sandals, and if it gets cold a sweat shirt or hoody. I can be found pretty much year round in those items and if I do have to dress up in a shirt and tie someone has either died or is getting married which for me is pretty much the same thing. The availability angle in this is that I can drive three miles in just about any direction and have to deal with traffic going into or out of those stores. The cost angle is while there are other stores in my area selling this stuff they get their stock under just about the same conditions and just charge the customer more. Simply put in this blood red section of an already very red state there just isn’t any union, environment, or international worker friendly stores. The final insult in all this is that I am six foot, five inches tall. While Dragonwife and I have hit consignment shops for clothes for her and the kids they just don’t have anything that fits me.

Where did my furniture come from?

First and foremost let me state that I own nothing in the house I live in except my camera, any pictures I have taken, my exploited worker made clothes, and my ACME lonely guy blow up doll (her name is Ashley). I sort of pride myself in thinking that if I ever had to unass this place on a moment’s notice if hordes of raging zombie Republicans ever declared martial law all I would have to do would be to grab my camera, backpack with a few clothes, and wipe down and deflate Ashley so I could be out and gone real quick. So I don’t really want to be saddled with a lot of material processions. But anyway Dragonwife has bought all the furniture in the house from any number of different stores and put the salespeople and delivery guys through utter Hell on any number of occasions.

One time it was about 1997 and Dragonwife decided that the couch she had bought after we had gotten married needed to be replaced. Now I must admit that when she came to this conclusion I was laying on said couch and the way she worded her statement at first along with the look in her eyes left a great deal of room about what she actually wanted to replace. I actually liked the couch having laid on it enough that it had long since been molded to the shape of my body. In addition, it was the site of the most sexually active period of our marriage having been both a cushion to rest on and a platform for our more adventurous positions. In fact in the first house our garage had been made into a den with three rather large window panels and door segment taking the place of the garage door. Late one night after some movie we had been watching had the male, female leads begin a rather physical discussion about the birds and the bees, we ourselves were moved to do the same thing. After our discussion came to a climatic conclusion we then noticed that we had left the blinds on those window panels and the door up giving any neighbors who happen to be having a late night stroll a rather good show on and next that couch. Therefore, I was rather reluctant to get rid of the thing just for the memories.

But we did eventually go to one of the local furniture stores with Dragonwife having the salesperson pull out all the big fabric samples books so she could decide which “style” we would get. At the time Darth Spoilboy was two and he and I just wandered over to the kid’s section which had a television and VCR showing Barney the Purple Dinosaur. While being a sort of torture in itself I at least had a happy kid in a stroller watching television and a very comfortable recliner for me. At this point I began judging time by how many times I had to put a new tape in the VCR with Spoilboy calling for “dada” after Barney sang that insidious “I love you, you love me…” song. It was a good thing that we had entered the furniture store late in the afternoon since I had to rewind the two different Barney tapes twice and we were suppose to have dinner at a nearby restaurant once the new couch was ordered. Looking over at Dragonwife and the saleslady at the beginning both were deep in conversation about the various fabrics and shapes of couches that could be ordered. At the end the prim and courteous saleslady had devolved to a tired, ruffled mess who looked up at me with a clear desperate plea in her eyes for some relief. I’m sure from all the fabric sample books scattered across the showroom floor that in the two hours I had napped while Spoilboy had watched Barney every possible combination of color, shape, and texture for couches had been explored twice at least. Dragonwife, approaching something close to rapture, showed me a fabric sample close to hunter green and that would be used to cover a particular type of couch that to my plebeian style looked just like all the other ones but the differences were enough to come back and haunt me.

Several weeks later a delivery truck backed up to the door to bring us the new couch. I was the only one home and since it looked for all the world like the proper color I thanked the guys as they brought it in the house. Dragonwife came home a few hours later and quickly entered an unqualified state of panic bringing the fabric sample out saying the couch was the wrong color. After being thoroughly censured for accepting such a flawed product she called the store and had the couch picked back up that day. A couple of months later another couch was delivered but Dragonwife was at the house to intercept any errors and sure enough to her the color wasn’t right. Furious phone calls resulted to both store and the district office by Dragonwife as the delivery guys and I sipped cokes outside, but they brought her no sympathy. After taking the old couch they brought the new couch in and she signed for it even though she swore up and down that it was the wrong color. Needless to say to my untrained eye I saw no difference between the fabric sample and the new couch. I soon learned that the unpleasant experience she had with the whole ordering process along with small but for significant differences in the length, width, height, and bounciness of the new couch spoiled the physical fun we use to have in the den. So in a way I blame an off color fabric sample for a large part of any marital problems I have but Ashley doesn’t seem to mind.

Where do I live? You will have to deal with where I live in my mind and want to return in body.

For many people South Carolina is the butt of many jokes about the South and Southerners. Yes, with an education system that lets far too many kids leave school without the basics for life in the 21^st century we do spend a god awful lot of time fighting over stupid stuff like a Confederate flag on the state house grounds. Not that I support the people wanting to keep it there who ignore the basic history of that flag which is hopelessly tangled with the institution of slavery then the tyranny after the end of the Civil War. It’s just I'd rather solve more important problems that affect us right now.

With that I have to admit there is no place in the world that I feel more connected to than the coast of South Carolina. The smell of the marsh at low tide, listening to the surf as it competes with an evening thunderstorm in a dueling symphony, the feel and taste of the ocean as I surf or play with my kids in the waves, and watching an osprey fly in the evening as the sunsets. For all its faults that is place I take comfort in during the bad times, that magnify my joy during the good times, and the place I come back home to every time I get the chance.

Favorite Books? I’ll list just two.

My favorites range far and wide being very different from each other. “Beach Music” by Pat Conroy brought to me a fascination with the city of Rome that I hope to visit before I die. As the book progresses though the novel returns the main character back to the Lowcountry of South Carolina in a series of events that can find its roots in the horrors of the Holocaust during World War Two. Out of all the characters I have ever read about the tragic story of his wife Shyla touched me to a point that I feel an actual pain reading about her suicide every time I pick the book up.

The only novel I know of by Carl Sagan, “Contact” brought the wonder of the universe to me and shaped to a great deal my belief that the universe is far stranger than we can fathom and full of unexpected surprises for our species if only we could abandon our ridiculous preoccupations with war and domination.

Favorite Movies?

The Lord of the Rings trilogy- for the human struggle to overcome the worst aspects of ourselves and the acknowledgment that despite our flaws that we do have the capacity to move beyond them.

Favorite Music?

Are you kidding me? Jimmy Buffett. But I do also dig all beach music, John Denver, Tom T. Hall, Charlie Rich, Charlie Pride, George Jones, and just about anything that makes me completely uncool to anyone younger than thirty.

Favorite Television Show?

Good damn question since while I really don’t have one I do like several. Battlestar Galactica, Stargate SG-1, Lost, and probably a few others I can’t think of right now.

Who gets hit?

Colonel Colonel

Mike at Tongue in Check

Zombieslayer

Lime

Keshi at Viva Forever

Seeing some fish and getting a dog

Dragonwife being one to never let a little thing like a pet rescue group say she can't have a particular dog found another one of the same breed on the internet. That dog being on the OTHER side of Atlanta on the way to Birmingham, Alabama was of little concern and me being one to never let an excuse to get the Hell out of town go by we once again loaded up the starship and last Friday evening hit the road. Being true to my nature and boldly going where I've never been before I negotiated a side trip to the Georgia Aquarium and promptly had my little brain blown away as soon as we entered the place. I had heard fantastic reports from several people who had visited the place but never had the opportunity to get anywhere near it. That fault being partially mine since if I head anywhere out of town I usual freak if I ain't heading east toward the coast. My picture doesn't do any justice to the rainbow hue of fish swimming around. Although the clear lexan used for the display did blunt the colors a good bit but this picture does not show how it curves to a point overhead letting some of the larger fish cruise above the viewers. On a side note as much as some of my family that drops into my humble site now might think the bald head in the lower right is me, it ain't I just wish that unidentified gentleman had kept his head down for one more second.



As I said the lexan curves around to a point that is directly overhead allowing the larger fish unafraid of being on the menu to cruise around and be seen. This black tip shark was one of two or three in this display. Sharks have always fascinated me with their sleek lines and efficiency in the oceans. Though deadly at times if not respected on their turf they none the less represent a beauty and honest survival in hostile conditions. Hopefully for most this is old news but despite the hype that springs forth from the media whenever a tourist is biten but far more sharks are ruthlessly killed for little or no reason than humans are ever hurt by them. And for the most part where humans are hurt, mainly by Bull sharks, its the fault of humans who have polluted the waters with fertilizers and other chemicals that kill off or drive away other aquatic life sharks eat.




While roaming the aquarium I saw these two fellows watching the hairless primates grouped around the display watching them. Couldn't help but wonder what they were thinking.

"Dear God George, would you look at the freaks today."

"Yeah Pete, especially the young couple in the back. They should really get a room, I swear that guy needs to pull his hand out of that girl's top before the kids notice like the tall goofy guy leering at them now."

"George, its the kids I'm talking about. Look at the little brat down there picking her nose and smearing her buggers on the glass, mammals are so disgusting."

"Yeah they are, lets blow this position and go eat some smaller fish."






A nice typical group of piranha. All discussing tax breaks for corporations, drilling off shore, how global warming is some insidious liberal conspiracy to hurt America, and Sara Palin's in depth and intelligent debating skills.













I would like to think that given all the opportunities people have now for informative and educational television viewing like the Discover channel more people would have knowledge of the world around them. But it seems that shows representing the lowest common denominator of crass and banal content seem to usually win out. Given that I've been sadly disappointed many times overhearing some of those around me not knowing how people are affecting the world around them and the other creatures in it with us. I have found that places like Seaworld, Disney's Animal Kingdom, and zoos educate a population about nature that usually does its best to stay ignorant.

New Data from Whale Shark Research Research funded by the Georgia Aquarium tracked whale sharks diving to a mile deep and swimming more than 4,500 kilometers (2,835 miles) in just 150 days. That’s 30 km (18.9 miles) per day! Satellite tags were placed on several whale sharks off the coast of Mexico as a part of Project Domino, a collaboration of Mote Marine Laboratory, Georgia Aquarium and Mexican researchers. In the five years since the project began, the whale sharks that were tracked stayed in the Gulf of Mexico. Recently, a satellite tag returned data showing a whale shark that had traveled halfway to Africa.

The Georgia Aquarium has this viewing tunnel that more of less runs through the middle of the main tank with all the big fish. None of the pictures I took of the Whale Shark passing over head were good enough to post namely because I was in so much awe watching that magnificent creature pass overhead I simply couldn't operate the camera. I am of the opinion that anyone that comes away not wanting to protect the oceans and planet in general after seeing such a creature does not have a soul.





One Beach Bum (tall goofy guy) and Miss Wiggles outside the "World of Coke" which we didn't go see. Yes, my weight has increased to the point that I'm now eating like a rabbit again along with attempting to get back is some sort of frame of mine to begin exercising. At best though when the urge comes I'm just go lay down and let the feeling pass like Oscar Wilde is reported to have done. Why am I pointing at the good gentleman next to me? I can trace my weight increase to John Pemberton and his damn product that in all honesty I drink far too often. And yes, I'm trying my best to drink diet but despite the best efforts they still pretty much suck.







Oh yeah, after leaving the aquarium we crossed to the other side of Atlanta picked up the newest member of the family and hit warp speed back to the house. Meet Sparky, his likes are Jimmy Buffett, chasing squirrels, chips I leave unattended, doggy biscuits, smelling other dog's butts, and chewing Dragonwife's scrap booking materials she leaves on the floor. His dislikes are senile old farts running for president and whacked out governor running mates who can make a box of rocks seem smart. This is an Obama dog. On a separate note Miss Wiggles and I took Sparky to park and walked along the Columbia Canal the next day. Having both Wiggles and Sparky with me drew scores of very attractive ladies who wanted to talk with my daughter and pet the dog. All things considered it was a very good day.

Surfing the Cosmic Shores

No, I haven't been smoking anything although it would have been a help.


Many times while growing up I listened to tales of how my uncles would get up before sunrise, load up their surfboards, and then drive up to Pawleys Island to catch some waves as the sun rose over the water. Several times I accompany them on such early morning outings whenever my parents let me and my uncles felt I would be useful chick bait. Even though I remember those trips they have for me moved into the realm of the mythical since they occurred before my parent’s marriage self-destructed, and my uncles moved beyond the carefree life of teenagers and into the responsibilities that the adult world demanded.

As my enlistment in the active army drew to a close in the summer of 1990 I began dreaming again of those early morning trips wanting to recapture the thrill of being the first person of the day to walk those soft sands and to feel that early morning ocean breeze. Even as a child I realized being next to the ocean while watching the sunrise that there were far larger, important, and powerful things than me in this universe. The mountains that I could see right out my barrack’s window could almost inspire the same awe and wonder when I hiked the trails along them but humans had long since put their mark all over the those mountain. From television antennas at the very top of Cheyenne mountain to huge mansions that seemed to have been carved in the side of others took away some of their power and made them seem tame.

My grandfather had passed away several months before my enlistment ended and there were many things that needed to be looked at and fixed after I returned home. My main mission though was to supply some company to my grandmother so she didn‘t feel so alone. Although in retrospect I feel I failed at it since I didn’t do a very good job giving her the company and support she needed. I hadn’t forgotten about my desire to relive those early morning surfing trips but most of my free time was actually spent getting ready for college in the fall. However, at that moment two issues prevented me from making my early morning pilgrimage even if I didn’t have chores I needed to do. I didn’t have a surfboard and all my friends who I had surfed with before my army time had for the most part succumbed to the adult world and didn’t have time to break away from young families and jobs, which fed those families. Uncle George solved the first problem one day as I was helping him clean out his attic. Amongst all the boxes and debris collecting dust in that dark place was his nine foot Hobie surfboard from his teenage years. As I inspected the old girl I could tell that the years had been somewhat hard on her. There were many dings and deep scratches on her surface along with her single fin being broken in half. Unlike surfboards now, the fin on Uncle George’s surfboard, which was made in the 60’s, was permanently set and could not easily be removed and replaced, if at all. Still with all the damage on the board I know how my uncle valued it for the memories it held. Never the less I somewhat nervously asked if I could use it for awhile. I could tell Uncle George actually had to think about it but in the end he allowed me to take it and even went and found the racks that would let me mount it to the top of my car. Both Uncle George’s boys had become very good at surfing but used the more popular short boards and looked sort of askew at their father’s ancient longboard. Therefore, if the old girl was going to get wet again it looked like I was the only person who would do it.

A couple of days later I secured my uncle’s old surfboard to the top of my car with the racks he also loaned me and took off for the south end of Pawleys Island. After the short drive I stood on the crosswalk above the protective semi-circle of sand dunes around the parking lot and looked out on the water. The very tip of the sun had just appeared above the horizon spreading a golden hue across the water. The waves that morning were running about four feet and breaking parallel to the shore. Looking back to the west I saw twilight shrinking fast with a few stars seemly covering the retreat of night. Even though for months my desire had been to be among the first people surfing as a new day begun as I proceeded off the crosswalk and into the sand I felt a small ripple of nervousness realizing I had gotten far more than I dreamed. Not only was I going to be the first person in that water that morning there wasn’t even an early morning jogger or fisherman on the entire tongue of land that made up the south end of the island. Looking northward up toward the houses I didn’t see anyone even sitting on their screened-in porches watching the sunrise.

After applying a new coat of wax on my uncle’s surfboard I finally had her in the water and was paddling out to where the waves began to form. The feel of the slightly chilly water and the taste of the salt from it on my lips quieted any nervousness I had moments earlier. The morning sun on my back warmed me and I could feel the stirrings of the old thrill that I had felt years before. I caught a great ride on the first wave that appeared once I got into position. Which given that I was riding a nine foot surfboard was nothing to crow about since it was so big I should have been able to catch anything down to a small ripple. My cousins, who rode short boards, had both the talent and the practice to perform some fairly wild maneuvers cutting across and up just about any wave they caught. I in turn did not have the practice they had and sure as hell didn’t have their talent so I was just happy to feel the rush of the wind and water as I used the wave’s energy to head toward shore. Several more attempts after paddling back out had me either missing the wave or falling off the board unable to get my balance right. I hadn’t been in the water more than thirty minutes when the waves stopped and the ocean around me went glassy and flat. After waiting for several minutes hoping that a new set would emerge so I could at least try and catch another good ride I decided that just lying on the board in the water with the sun on my back was good enough for the time being. My thoughts began drifting about at random and after scanning the shore line and realizing I was still the only person on the beach my mind used that as a prompt to go off in a very unwanted direction.

It’s hard to describe the feeling when you realize you are utterly alone in the world, even though you may be surrounded by family and friends on a regular basis. Such a condition makes the feeling even more acute since you can’t really go off whining about it to those who now have jobs, babies, bills, and the entire spectrum of normal life on their shoulders. College classes were soon to begin for me and after being away from school for such a long time I worried that I might not be able to handle it and flunk out. I didn’t even have the option of returning to the military if college went bad. Before I got out many of my superiors tried to talk me out of leaving the service telling me that I had a real future as a senior NCO down the road or even an officer if I pursued college while still wearing the uniform. Now that I was out and this being the early nineties the military was beginning its great post-Cold War draw down so I didn’t stand a snowball’s chance of re-enlisting. On a more personal level I might as well have been a complete stranger to my hometown in that I didn’t have a soul I could call to date or just to hang out with like I did before I entered the army. Every last girl I had anything to do with had either moved or married while I was away. After my return I soon found that I occupied a strange position of being too old to hang out with high school kids and that I was not yet a part of the college crowd. In addition, since my old buddies had settled down while I was away I found myself out of place at the bar and club scene. Going alone just didn’t feel right and I found myself heading home after only an hour or two in such places. This line of worries wasn’t new, soon after returning home as I lay in bed listening to the night sounds of nature outside my open window these thoughts would creep into my room like some intruder and play with me until my mind shut down.

As I was laying on that surfboard in the water with my doubts and fears running through my mind it was like some shark latching on to me and pulling me down into the dark depths. Even though my saintly grandmother had taken charge of the spiritual upbringing of my siblings and me to the point that to miss Sunday school you had to cough up your liver and both lungs before she would leave you alone those mornings at that time I didn’t find myself praying very much. I carried a faith in God but I found the increasingly strident, unforgiving, and political nature of the churches around me difficult to bear. Far too much had changed from the compassionate, joyous, and forgiving nature of the churches I attended with my grandparents up until the mid-80’s. However, the darkness that had hold of me right then had me saying a small and tepid prayer of divine guidance.

Many times I have heard from the odd self-appointed philosopher that I have run across say that there is no such thing as reality. That each person colors their own reality with their own biases, beliefs, and lessons they have learned from others. Since I agree with the idea that we each color our own reality take from this story what you will. But as I laid on that surfboard just after my little prayer beginning to think about paddling in and returning home I heard a small splash behind me and out of the corner of my eye saw some sort of fin submerge below the surface. Figuring that the metaphorical shark that had hold of me was about to become real I tucked my arms and legs up on the board to, hopefully, wait out any undue curiosity. Some small amount of time slipped by without any further sight or noise from my unknown aquatic companion and I figured it was time for me make my way to shore before it came back. The ocean around me was still a sheet of off-colored green glass but clear down to about two feet. I was about to begin paddling in when my companion came sliding up parallel to me less than a foot away. Far from being a toothy wannabe Jaws out to consume a lonely and distraught guy on a borrowed surfboard my companion was some sort of species of dolphin. Potential fear fell away to kinetic surprise as both of us examined the other, each curious of the strange mammal that was in the water that early morning. My new friend circled around never losing sight of me. This time “he” came even closer in and while looking into the eye of that creature I felt something that cleared away my worries and fears. To say that I felt some weight lift off my shoulders doesn’t do justice to the fact that I also felt some sort of feelings of compassion, caring, and that I was not alone that seemed to say everything was going to be fine. Like some child I reached out toward the dolphin with the more logical part of my mind saying that I was about to spoil this chance meeting and scare it off. Instead it came right up next to the surfboard allowing me to stroke its side. We stayed that way for only a short time never looking away from each other. How long could it have gone on? I have no honest answer but it was the sound of a car horn over on the other side of the sand dunes signaling that my solitude had ended that broke whatever spell had been cast. After looking up for the briefest of moments I looked back down and he was gone. He came around again one last time splashing me with his flukes then set off for some other location with me wishing I could join him.

Was this only a chance encounter that tide, time, the desire for me to relive earlier days, and the early morning feeding habits of a marine mammal allowed to happen? Or was this the answer to a small but desperate prayer that I had cast out to a far greater more diverse ocean. As the years have flown by I have alternately held both positions along with a hybrid mix of the two. None the less, the dark clouds that had at times confined me to outright despair never appeared with such power again. I still had enough concern to keep my nose to the educational grind stone and far from being a perfect person after my encounter I still found a way to screw up completely on many different levels many different times through the years. Whatever explanation I happened to be leaning toward on that early morning encounter for me the whole basic question boils down to whether there is something greater in the universe than we hairless primates. My own idea on the matter has the curious benefit of irritating just about everyone who has discussed the issue with me. But at least it can be said I came about it on my own.

Years ago I sat in awe in front of my grandparent’s television watching the late Carl Sagan explain on his show Cosmos various aspects of science and the nature of the universe. One of the many things he touched on that blew my mind was how the very elements that make up our bodies were created at the cores of long dead stars. Those same elements would over the course of billions of years coalesce and form our planet. As more time passed those elements somehow combined, crossed a threshold from just a chemical soup to simple life that began the struggle of evolution. After billions of years of evolution we hairless primates emerged having gained a modest amount of intelligence to try and contemplate the very nature of the universe we live in. In short Sagan was saying nothing less that we, and whatever other intelligent species that might exist, are the universe itself becoming self aware and trying to understand its nature.

Where I usually veer off into left field, and piss everyone off, is that to me the universe itself from its earliest times we can discern after the Big Bang has continued to organize itself into higher structures. From the lowest quark to the largest super cluster of galaxies we can observe there is a continuing effort for greater complexity. Even here on Earth as life emerged from a smelly carbon-based protein soup to basic celled organisms it has moved up in the level of complexity until our arrival in which despite our faults and shortcomings have begun trying to make sense of our very reason for existence. I can’t help but wonder that given the age of the universe and the continuing evolution of all things great and small might not there be intelligences for whom we have no way to contemplate or understand their existence much like microscopic life forms have absolutely no way to understand that they are observed and studied by us using a microscope. Let me be the very first to say that all this is the addled speculation of a more than slightly deranged mind who desperately need to find a more productive hobby. But I have always been uncomfortable with the notion that humans are the pinnacle of development for the universe and that there is nothing greater in scope for us to discover. What comes to mind for me was the accepted notions that the Earth was the center of the creation with everything else revolving around us, or that we were the special, highest creations of God which made us and everything else in 6000 years.

While I can dance around the subject I do have to admit that I do believe in a higher power. The nature of that higher power for me is, like my dolphin encounter, subject to my own internal debate which ebbs and flows as time goes on. If I haven’t really freaked everyone out I would more than welcome their input on this subject. My own attempts before to discuss something as strange as this subject have usually failed miserably with the usual two warring camps quickly forming up and dialogue devolving to name calling. In truth the one creature I would love to get its opinion on this subject would be my dolphin friend but I have the strangest feeling if I did get the chance he would just keep his enigmatic smile, say thanks for all the fish, and swim off again saying I think to much and need to surf more. I can’t say that he would be wrong.


(Author's note: I didn't like how this turn out but after messing around with this post far longer than I liked I wasn't about just to leave it on my hard drive.)

Going to a wedding....seriously.

Time has finally come to load up the family in the starship and make our way to my brother-in-law's wedding. Dragonwife is still having doubts whether her brother's fiancée will actually go through with it and not run off screaming into the night. But be that as it may since it will be on the beach we are still going no matter what, a bad rainy day at the beach (even amongst in-laws) sure as Hell beats a sunny day hanging around the house. We will be at some place in Virginia called Sandbridge. If by chance anyone is close by come on down and look for the tall goofy guy wearing the Buffett ”Air Margaritaville" hat and crash the parties. For an explanation of what is about to happen see this post about Miss Wiggles.

On a different note I’ve been having some technical difficulties with my internet connection which has literally kicked me off as I was trying to read posts or make comments. It has gotten to the point that the last couple nights I spent more time waiting for it to reconnect than actually participating on other blogs. Called technical support and they wanted me to burn some incense, dance the hokey-pokey naked, and sacrifice a chicken to the server and mainframe spirits, but didn’t have time to do all that even though I do happen to blog naked. What can I say? Its keeps Darth Spoilboy from bringing friends up to the family room and playing that damn "Guitar Hero". But as far as appeasing techincal support, the incense we had smelled like poop and I didn’t have time to get an actual live chicken. So, when we return late Sunday I’ll have to try it again. Have a good weekend and once again if anyone is in Sandbridge find the goofy tall guy and say hi.

Special Place in Hell

Someone once said that capitalism without humanity is evil. That is an adage that takes special meaning, at least for me, whenever children are involved. I'm all for some person who comes up with a new idea, or through hard work builds a business, making a buck or two off of it. However, to purposely endanger the lives of children so the bottom line can be fatten up just a little more defies all manner of common sense. While I write this last statement realizing I'm far from perfect I hope God reserves a special place in Hell for those "business people" that follow such practices and curiously enough a few business journalists I've heard who make light of these events claiming China is too good a friend to get very upset over a few poisoned children.

A government probe announced on Tuesday showed a fifth of 109 dairy producers checked made batches of products adulterated with melamine, which is banned from use in foods.

Earlier this week, officials said 1,253 children were ill and two had died after the country's biggest baby milk powder maker, the Sanlu Group, last week revealed its products contained melamine, which can be used to bamboozle milk quality checks.

Melamine is rich in nitrogen, used to measure protein, and so can be used to disguise diluted milk. It can cause kidney stones and other organ problems. Four suppliers have so far been arrested for selling melamine-laced milk to Sanlu.

Just for poop and giggles, a little good news.

Personally I'm more than sick with the state of the world and the fear we are not only fed on a regular basis but surprisingly wallow in as long as it confirms our worst expectations. Answers abound to the problems we face as long as there is a desire to work towards the goals to solve them but it would help at times to know people all over the world are actually working on them instead of trying to blow something or someone up. But that's the kicker in all this, if you watch the main stream media on a regular basis you get plenty of debate on whether a pig can wear lipstick or if the wearing of an American flag lapel pin signifies whether someone is a true patriot. If that isn't enough journalists on the news channels spend a great deal of time chasing some washed-up pop diva, actor or other celebrity with no describable talent other than a huge family trust fund and a good public relations agent.

Now one thing that would definitely curl my toes would be the opportunity to tell the American oil companies, several members of OPEC, and a few other oil rich countries to take a flying leap into oblivion. So whenever I see anything that pushes us in that direction I feel a little better. Funny, had to find this article from a source outside the United States.

New fuel battery may ditch gasoline for good

LONDON: Researchers at the University of Massachusetts Boston have come up with a new idea of combining electric power with a combustion engine, which they say may enable electric vehicles to store more energy than gasoline in the same volume, and extend their range.

They say that electric power storage that is part battery part chemical fuel cell may ditch gasoline for good.

Stuart Licht, who conceived the new design along with his colleagues at the university, says that it can store energy more densely than petrol.

Much of what we do these days is just trend water and try like hell to keep our credit card financed lifestyles from consuming us like a rabid hungry bear. We usually don't have time to even think about how other people live in parts of the world where the leftover food we regularly send down the garbage disposal would be thought of as a blessing from God. Several times I have half-jokingly written how I don't believe humans are an intelligent species that we can't or won't move to overcome our pre-wired million of years old programming that sees anyone outside our respective nations, tribes, social setting, or religion as evil or corrupted. Happily there are those that give me some hope that humans might indeed be worthy of higher regard.

Meet the New Heroes
What is a hero? The American Heritage Dictionary defines the word as "a person noted for feats of courage or nobility of purpose, especially one who has risked or sacrificed his or her life."

The heroes you'll meet on these pages and in these films are different from those in the pages of most history books. They are not famous politicians or legendary soldiers — yet they have improved the lives of MILLIONS of people and made the world more secure. Their 'arsenals' are not of weaponry, but of creative ideas, dogged determination and a deep belief in their power to change the world. Also known as "social entrepreneurs," they develop innovations that bring life-changing tools and resources to people desperate for viable solutions.

Please do not get the idea that I think things will all be peaches and cream in the end. Huge forces that inspire to the lower, baser levels of the human mind like greed, the lust for power and control, and envy want things to stay the way they are since any change will not directly benefit them. My main reason for doing this post is just to spread some word that there are some out there working for the betterment of the entire mass of curious hairless primates that can’t seem to pull its collective head out its collective ass. Good night and good luck.