Could there be a more ludicrous topic?

This is probably not going to be what you think. Even though there have been more insanely ridiculous events occurring over the past few days with the hanging of Hussein and the bombing of an airport and a list longer than the one I'd send to Santa when I was nine years old thanks to the Sears catalog I feel like writing about something that shames these events of most recent history. Not because they are not worthy of a good rant but becuase they pale in comparison to idiocy of today's topic.

You curiosity piqued?? I asked myself this morning what the most ridiculous thing going on in the world is and a few interesting things popped into my mind.

The first of which took on the form a philisophical endeavour. What is the 'world' that I ask about? How many ways can this be defned? I reckon one for every person that lives on this 'planet'.

An eight year old boy might see the world as his family and friends. A aboriginee man may see it as the Outback country within his native Australia. A politician may see it as the subset of things that can give him power. An astrophysicist may see it as all things that can be seen within a telescope. A quantam physicist may see it as all things that can be built using quarks and whatever else these folks use as the building blocks of our physical world.

I suppose there is an "american comman man" definition of the world which would consist of the things that are on the planet with the term "universe" capturing the bigger stuff..

Bottom line is that 'the world' is really what we define it to be in that space of our mind that creates things. Since I'm not the patient type to research neuroscience to learn the exact location of these thoughts we'll keep the definiton to brain as a whole.

So in my mind, the world is defined uniquelly to each man.

Then philisophically, the mind is also the place where most all things takes on some sort of definition.

And in this place where definitions occur I find things defined that make any physical act seem somewhat normal. In our daily lives we can find amazemnt in the irony of certain events. We can find humor or sadness in the way people deal with each other whether it be family or enemies or friends.

Where am I going with this? I'm not entirely sure here. Seriously. Usually there is some framework to how something gets written but this is a topic that is just sort of free flowing from my brain to m fingers.

Thinking back to what got me writing today was the stupidity of something in my life that is 100% make believe. Something that I thought about that almost had me laughing if it weren't so sad.

These are my fears and the profound impact they have on my life in how I deal with people and how I relate to the physical world.

They are nothing more that 100% make believe. However, they define how I live my life. I use the word fears since they are the things that seem to direct me as much anything that is not real. There are other things that define my life and how I live as well.. Love. Pity.

But if I look at all the things that seem to guide my thoughts fear seems to be the one that steers the ship most profoundly. I do believe (and have experienced) that living consciosly is the most beautiful place to be and the place where all things good are. You can call this being present or whatever you'd like.

I like to think that this place is available to everyone. Much more difficult for some to access versus others however if you are ever curious about what it is be aware of that moment of time between waking up from a good night sleep and having your first thought of the day. This would be a place of awareness. The mind will clutter it up the first chance it gets.

I write this and it becomes more clear to me than ever that the mind and living consciouslly are in direct competition with each other.

And there lies the question. Can one achieve a state of awareness by mentally doing something? Or more simply put, can you turn off your mind by thinking about turning it off. I suppose meditation is an example of this.

So I get back to the most ludicrous topic of the day.. Fear. The set of rules within my mind that dictate how I percieve and react.

Without my fears how would I be?

I would be infinitely more truthful in how I relate to others and myself since I would not have the fear of not being good enough. I'm not talking about lies here. There is a more subtle aspect to truth than saying things that are not true. We'll develop this more later.

What else?

I would eat less no doubt. I reach for the nuts, popcorn or can of Chunky's Sirloin Burger soup for no reason when I get some sort of internal anxiety from fear from within my mind.

I would relate to others in an easier way since the fear of being good enough would be gone. This fear is shows itself as a lack of confidence.

It's funny but it really seems to be fears that dictate how I live more than anything else. These make believe items dictate how I live in he real world. That is the most ludicrous thing I've ever heard. That like letting my invisible friend Billy drive a bus full of school children. Isn't this mad.

What kind of a sick idea is it that something so abstract and unreal can play such a profound role on my achieving things that are real. And I'll define the things that are real simply as being aware since anything else would most likely be defined by my fears as well (ie. monetary wealth, power, etc.)

I write this and think if anyone were to read this they would think I was off (another fear) but then it hit me that eveyone has fears. Whether they are the same as mine or different everyone has fears that dictate how they live and keep them from achieving a certain degree of awareness. There can be no self-righteousness on this one (Buddah, Jesus, Mohommed excepted)

How would I be if I had no fear? What are all my fears? What would I look like if I had no fears?

And then the next level of questions? Where did all my fears come from and more importantly is there a way to be rid of them?

Again, if I think about how to get rid of these fears I am probably using the wrong tool. You can't get rid of something with the thing that contains them. Or perhaps you can? Is that like saying put out that fire with fire or stop that flood with water? I'm not sure. I suppose these are questions of philosophy and each man will again have his own answer.

I'm sure there are techniques that work to find this place of peace and put the mind to rest. You read of people that will meditate for days at a time and stories of monks that seek enlightenment for 20 years only to achieve it by answering a question that has no 'accepted' answer.

How does one leave the mind? By not having fear be a part of the equation? How does one accomplish this? Can fear be removed or is it through total acceptance that fear is made powerless?

Another paradox perhaps? Give into something completely and acknowledge it wholly to have it disappear? What a strange concept. Most things real are paradoxical.

I hoped to rant on this earlier today but realized that ranting is purely mental and lacks anything beautiful. These are questions that require letting go of the mind.

The mind is an amazing thing. However it should be used as a tool in our lives and not define our lives.

More to follow on this...

Cattle Prod Educating

Comedy Network News (CNN) has done it again.

Today’s parody (it must have been) was about an event at an elementary school somewhere in Georgia where two 6^th graders were mixing it up in the principals office. The SRO (School Resource Officer) was brought in to keep the peace. To do so, one of the 6^th graders was subdued with a taser. You don’t need to re-read that last word. I’ll say it again. TASER.

An eleven year old weighing less than 80 pounds was subdued using the same technology designed to control 250 pound men likening themselves to Superman when flying about on crystal meth.

Then there are the parents reactions that are even more precious.

But first, what is an elementary school doing with a taser. These kids are pint size at best. If one needs to make the argument that a rambunctious 6^th grader can be a handful then hire someone that can do the job. Hire a big fella. But arming school employees with weapons sends about the worst impression to an impressionable mind in a violent city that weapons are solutions! Not that having a thug around is much better. But there is a difference between bringing a weapon into a school that jacks up a kid with 50,000 volts (seriously) from a weapon used by hostile armies and a using a person to control a situation. One is an act of war. The other an act of necessity.

How much educating can be going on in the classroom when the School Resource Officer (what does that mean anyways?) is packing in the hallway. Yes, children, bring your open mind and a willingness to learn while our guards roam the hallways with weapons. Beautiful.

The parent reactions were priceless. One woman is quoted saying, “That’s too many volts for a 6^th grader”. Huh… I hit the stop button on my Realplayer V9.2 multimedia presentation software and replayed the clip. “That’s too many volts for a 6^th grader”. Which begged several questions in my mind. “How many volts are acceptable for a 6th grader”. “What grade is it appropriate to use a taser”. “Can the voltage be turned down on a taser to something for smaller people”. “Is there another type of weapon that could have been used instead of the taser?”

Or perhaps these are the wrong questions to ask. Yes, perhaps I’m off on the wrong track. In fact I’m sure of it. Perhaps the only question here from any parent should have been, “What the hell is a school doing condoning weapons at an elementary school”. Which would be followed by, “When is this principal getting fired”.

Were tasers part of Bush’s “No Child Left Behind” policy. It must have gotten through on a rider (another topic for another day).

Look. I’m not on front lines of an inner city. I have no idea what happens in schools at inner cities. I do know that 6^th graders should be watching Barney (or whatever), sponging up as much as possible and being exposed to all things positive at schools. Underfunded programs and absent parents probably make this a difficult task. The schools are the gap between the two. Provide the environment and kids will learn. It’s in their nature. You don’t force learning. You provide the environment where it happens on it's own. And last I checked tasers and other military weaponry weren’t part of a good learning experience. Curiosity, the mother of all learning, can't happen in a hostile surrounding.

So to you my friends at Jonesboro Elementary in inner city Atlanta please find your way. Please find your peace. Please involve the parents. If the only thing you have kids do during the day are activities that put them at peace then do that. Learning will happen in a peaceful place. It can’t happen in a war zone.

Until this happens, please have the SRO put away his taser.

My morning coffee and Juice

My morning ritual consists of waking up, starting a fire, getting Mr. Coffee busy on his preparation of the half caf – half decaf and sitting down at the PC opening CNN.com. This is generally where I get my comedy for the day. I think CNN stands for Comedy Network News.

Today this myopic purveyor of the worlds events threw me a slow soft one that had me rolling for five minutes. It was an article about a new literary piece that will hit our book stores in a few weeks. Why did a book bring such a response. Was it a clever humorous piece marveling Confederacy of the Dunces. Perhaps Gary Larson is putting away his –hommed for a while and picking up a pen,

No, this was from another type of author. One where the pen, being held by a non-fitting glove, was obviously as mighty as the sword. I am of course referring to OJ—The juice. Number 32.

I began reading this CNN bit of ‘news’ and the laughter started on the second sentence where the title “What if I did it” was pronounced. “What If I Did It”. You’ve got to be kidding me. Hitler was less obvious.

I read it a couple of times to make sure I got it right. It was true. There it was. “What If I Did It” written by OJ Simpson. My first thought after reading this wasn’t about OJ and the book but about Fred Goldman. Ron’s dad that reminds me of a fella that should be standing behind a green curtain pulling on knobs. The guy looks like the wizard. I thought, there’s a Mr. Wizard lengthy press conference just around the corner. And let down I was not.

However, this came later.

Back to The Juice. Back to “What If I Did It” published by none other than Rupert “Aspiring to be Larry Finch” Murdoch. This was too good to be true. An obvious confession written by a murderer who got away with it because he could afford more lawyers (whose stressed out souls are killing them one-by-one) than Exxon after Valdez, published by the king of all smut, with daddy waiting to do a press conference. Please be careful when laying out the three rings. Who knows what else will get folded into this one.

The article went on to describe the publishers reason for, well, publishing the book (this must be redundant). Her motive was that she ‘felt compelled to publish this to help close this chapter in our lives’. Are you kidding me. Please tell me that you are not pretending to publish this book for the greater good of man. Please be honest with me. Please don’t give me the impression that my eye won’t be stuck closed for several minutes with your blatant disregard for the truth. Come out with it. Be honest.

Please say these words to make things right, “The opportunity to publish this book was a dream come true for us since it will sell millions and we will make millions. This is just the type of sordid literature that brings the average American to their local Borders and B Dalton to ingest something that makes their humdrum life seem pretty good. I’ve already spent $12,000 on a deposit for a villa I the Caribbean this winter where I’ll count the money from sales of this book . Thanks Juice”

Then at least you can look yourself in the mirror the next day. There’s something amazingly refreshing about being open and honest about something despicable. It’s never the act that brings the guilt but the obvious attempt to sugar coat it. Your stress receptors will dance to the spin, not to the act itself.

Juice. You’re a joke. Every news conference about you is the same as you walk off the golf course signing autographs. And damn you have a big head. You like Mr. Potatoehead on those worn out legs.

Fred. I’m sorry for your loss. However, he entire country knows he did it. The man lives in a shame that is making him so much more miserable than if he were in prison. He didn’t get a way with it. Golfing doesn’t mean he got away with it.

Rupert, thanks for not letting me down. You’re the best.

Mrs. Publishing Publisher, you’re going to get a taste of what OJ eats everyday. Deception is not a good substitute for eggs and bacon. Trust me, my cholesterol is over 200 (but I’m ok since my best bud sells the bitchin’ Jarvis-7 upgrade).

Johnny Cochrane and Efleebailey. Rest your souls. You whores.

Marcia and Christopher. My guess is that it’s been tough finding a job.

Kato. You still scare me. By the way, how’s that acting career going.

Judge Ito. My guess is that you’re up to a couple Selestra and an Ambien every night. But you were cute up there.. Did you ever find a kid’s size robe that didn’t drag behind you like a wedding train.

Anyways, I guess I’ll close this chapter out in my own life. And imagine, I did it without a book to help me do so..

Trix are for kids.. Beef is for man.

Living in an area limited to only a few radio stations I've found myself listening to NPR from time to time since Paris' Hiton's voice which is played 5 time and hour on the Top 40 station causes thoughts of murder and the Billy Cyrus station takes me more towards suicide.

NPR, known for their hanging S editorialists, does seem to take on a somewhat objective view of the news however beneath it lies a lefty undercurrent in my mind. The content can range from extremely good to a bit too folksy. Good would be Click and Clack. Bad would be "The Polka Hour" and "Vegetable Talk". Driving home from the opposite direction of downeast the other day which happens to be up the coast a news segment was airing describing a new label being placed on meat at the market when applicable.

This is the label "Animal Compassionate".

Driving on a country road I'm usually oblivious to anything being said on the radio except for the news when I am listening but this thought jumped into my zombie-driver mind and hit the pump on the neuro-excitement chemical gland..

"Please tell me I didn't hear that. Please tell me they are not going to try and label meat and poultry as 'animal compassionate'. Please tell me I didn't just hear this". Reality set in and I was in fact conscious and not in some liberal dream.

Mine was never the romantic variety but even I know that applying the word compassionate to a situation before something is mercilessly slaughtered is probably a stretch. Perhaps we say, "Sorry" before we run the sharp blade across the carotid artery of the livestock to let it bleed out which is the preferred method to remove as much blood as possible. Is there a priest there doing that hand trifecta and blessing the animal before it goes from a 1,500 pound majestic beast to a foam plated, saran wrapped, Animal Compasionate-labeled, body part identified soon to be sitting on a shelf in your local IGA (or several markets across the state) then to be bought, barbeqed and devoured item within the next three days.

I'm missing the compassion here.. So I listened a bit more to the hanging, lisping 's' news person. "Animal Compassionate" is used to describe livestock that meets several conditions on the farm. The first is no castration of sheep. I don't eat lamb so I really don't care too much about this one. However next time I'm chopping wood in my wool LL Bean trying to fit in Maine sweater I'm pretty sure I won't care if the animal that provided the wool had two balls or not.

The other requirement for 'animal compassionate' beef is that the cow are prodded only when necessary. This one blew my mind. I know several farmers and I'm pretty sure they don’t run around prodding livestock for the thrill. Watching a large animals nostrils flare up from a bit of pain might be the sport of a few sicko 'grew-up-raising-cows-and-now-I-hate all things farm' guys but I'm also pretty sure they are the exception to the norm.

After all, batteries are expensive.

Let me ask this.. How many sensitive carnivores are there in the world?...

It's pretty evident that I don't fall into this category since I'm the guy sticking the stethoscope into the pot of boiling water before we drop the lobsters in. I'm interested in things.

So it's pretty clear I'm not going to pay double for 'animal compassionate' meat. Nor am I going to pay the extra whatever percentage for food labeled with other winners such as "free farmed", "certified humane", "cage free" or "free range".

Man has been eating meat since Adam clobbered a pig on the head with a rock and had man's first luau. That's where the apple came from by the way. Eve stuffed it in the pigs mouth for decoration but dumb man missed the soft touch.

That’s just how it goes..

But then again I may be wrong. Perhaps the karma of the after life is dictated by how we’ve treated animals and not other humans during our existence n this life. Perhaps I'll be the one left standing in a cage allowed no movement for an eternity while a sheep cuts of the twins and a cow prods me.

Until then, I plan of enjoying a nice veal picatta this evening served with a salad comprised of lettuce and other vegetables that were ripped out of the ground by their roots served with a nice glass of wine produced from defenseless grapes that were crushed through a press.

But before I do so, I'll tip my glass and say thanks..

700 miles of stupidity

Stories surrounding the wise man Solomon are always of the variety that get me excited about the potential in humans. There is one story in particular is based on two women coming to the wise sage claiming to be the mother of the same child. In a day when lesbian adoption (why could I not have fallen into that category) was not prevalent Solomon declared that the child would be torn in half and the two women would split the child. One woman wailed and the other showed the same indifference as Jeffrey Skilling during opening arguments. Solomon declared the wailer the mother and was no doubt correct.

Where is this type of wisdom today.. Particularly in our elected government? Where? Politics and wisdom go together about as well as capitalism and environmentalism. They really don’t seem to be able to exist on the same playing field. There seems to be some sort of natural law that prevents the two from occupying the decision-making part of the mind at the same time..

The latest case in point in this politically run country of ours was the signing of bill yesterday mandating a 700 mile wall between us and Mexico..

I read this on a website that used to take pride in providing news to people but has become another FOX type entertainment whore.. You know the one I’m talking about.. CNN.com

There it was, “Bush signs bill to build 700 mile fence”. I thought to myself, “Is this April 1 and some clever editor is slipping in a prankster article”..No… “Perhaps a hacker has re-written several bogus articles and slipped them onto the CNN.com website. That would be neat”.. No..

Please dear God let this be a mistake. Please let me have read “Bush laughs at bill to build 700 mile fence” which would still be a scary thought since that would mean it made it though the house and senate at that point. Perhaps it read “5 year old boy draws cartoon of 700 mile fence between Mexico and America with little stick children playing on it”. Because if a fence were built it should be used for this purpose and this purpose alone..

Building this is so terribly wrong on so many reasons. This plan has all the creativity of the plotline of an ABC after-school special.

The list of why the wall is bad is as long as Martha Stewart’s grocery list the day after she was released.

The concept that we should be evolving into a world where we tear walls down and not build them should be the first thing that pops into every American’s mind regarding this wall.. Every major conflict on this planet right now is based on people taking steps to further divide themselves from others. Strengthening one’s faction by building a fence adds to the separation of people. It scares the hell out of me when we need to look to Germany (with a Pink Floyd twist) for guidance. “Tear down the wall”.

And if this ‘evolving notion’ escapes people then the stupidity of the fence can easily be based on one very simple notion. One very simple concept that every human and animal on earth will understand. The fence won’t work. We are not talking about building some impenetrable wall here. We are not talking about borrowing the Great Wall plans from the Chinese and erecting something that can be seen by satellites (and I’m talking about the 1975 Kremlin spy satellites but the modern day CIA paparazzi variety). This is exactly as it is called.. A fence.

Here’s where our politically driven leaders should do perform a small trial. Build a 100 foot section of the fence and put it in a room with 5 people. Give them all the resources available to Mexico (natural and mand-made). Give them 100 years of desperation and poverty. Give them hunger and take away their hope. Now tell them to come up with a way to get the other side of the fence where relative prosperity exists. I guarantee you that within 10 nano-seconds they will have more options than American consumers do in how they ingest fat, I mean cholesterol, I mean TFA’s (I still don’t get it). The proposd fence is short. They can go over it. The fence will have all the robustness of an American designed-Korea reverse engineered-Chinese built toy. They’ll go through it. These folks have been building tunnels with the same efficiency as xxxxxxxxx. They’ll go under it.. And last time I checked, the border was over 1000 miles long.. Math may be tricky friends but even I know that 700 is less than 1000. They’ll go around it.

The irony that the fence is going to be built primarily by the people that we are trying to keep out smells about as good as my catalytic converter after chargi up a steep grad on a hot day towing a heavy boat. Imagine the articles when Halliburton (who I’m sure will get the contract) gets caught with illegal aliens, excuse me, non-documented foreign nationals working on the Fisher Price designed fence.

This small hurdle to get to America is going to wind up representing everything that we should be trying to evolve away from. There will be an elite few that get grossly rich from it’s construction since the down payment has already been set at $1.2 billion dollars. There will be a middle class of Chinese-built-equipment operators that used to make a decent wage but no longer since their wage has been diluted for 15 years by this mess. The cost over-runs will be immense. The time-lines will be laughable and missed by years.

Is the pouring of Mexican’s into America an issue. Absolutely. Do we need to solve this dilemma? Absolutely. Are there options? Absolutely. The last good idea I had was about four years ago yet I sit here and in 5 miutes have four or five ways to solve the problem. They may suck. But if I can come up with bad options in five minutes then there is hope.

Passing and signing this bill through our republican government 10 days before elections is such an amazingly transparent pander to an economically scared America that it would embarrass our forefathers.

What would Geroge Washington do in this case? Or Lincoln? Or Benjamin Franklin? Let’s try and find a Solomon-like voice in this manner. Whether it be from the men of this country’s past, spiritual leaders with vision or university students brimming with idealism and creativity. This is a problem that will stem from the glorious parts of the mind that bring us creativity and original thought. Not the part of the mind that gets people elected. Please keep the politicians out of it.

The Clubhouse

There is a place somewhere within 30 miles of the Whitehouse known simply as the clubhouse. This is a place where Dick Cheney, Donald Rumsfeld, Mike Brown and the other member of the “George Bush puppeteer club” hang out.

The clubhouse is the subterranean type with walls that 6 foot thick concrete for the obvious reason that stopping nuclear proliferation has been about as successful as the war on drugs and that in time any group with a million bucks and Khans protégé’s phone number will be able to make a significant contribution to the American experience in the form of a ½ kiloton nuclear bomb. The ceilings are the same height as the walls are thick at 6 feet which still gives ample headroom to its vertically challenged members.

The door to the clubhouse is made out of granite and there is a sign that reads, “No Girls allowed (that mean’s you Candy Rice)” who I’m sure they refer to as that “Hot and leggy savage”.

The floors are hardwood and the place smells of Cuban cigars since these guys obviously have the means. In fact, when they want a cigar they hit a button on a panel and a green light flashes at the Cohiba or Monte Cristo factory (depending on what button was pressed) prompting an underpaid Cuban woman to drop the next cigar rolled on her table into one of those vacuum tubes they have at the bank where it then placed into a pipe that shuttles it’s precious cargo to Dick or Don or Mike in a matter of minutes. I regress, it probably only takes a couple of seconds since I’m sure Halliburton, when constructing this piping system, used the same contractor that built atom accelerators for smashing atoms since they are Dawn’s (Rumsfeld) buds and could reap the benefits of another juicy pentagon contract.…

The only thing that saved us was that Smalldick (Cheney) doesn’t have the same penchant for his cigars as Clinton and didn’t require humidification in the piping system so his cigar which was pre-moistened by the Cuban woman didn’t dry out and deprive him of that particular taste.

Because of this my friends, this project, relative to what the democrats would have built in their project actually resulted in a cost savings to the American people. Thanks guys..

Back to the clubhouse. Looking around the main play room there are a variety of toys and gadgets. There is the requisite XBOX which is in fact turned on with the ‘Bomb Iraq’ game in the console. However, this particular game is a bit different than most since it is tied directly to the war machine in Pentagon.

Propped up on a chair in the corner is a life size puppet doll of George Bush that has one of those Howdy Doody mouths. This way the fellas can have practice sessions with the prez and rehearse how they are going to guide him to do whatever they want. They tire of this quickly since non-curious George is a simple mind and they figure things out in about 37 seconds. However, these guys are no dummies, so to make the most of their expensive puppet they had a material developed that stays warm and moist for 50 years. The material is based on a nuclear derivative as all things should be in the minds of these clubhouse players. This material was used to line the inside of the three inch deep puppets mouth (plenty of room) providing each of them another 24 seconds of pleasure.

By the way, this too is considered a cost savings to the American people since the same puppet is being used for multiple purposes.

Moving about the room we see two large dartboards. One has several different sized slices with names of several weapons used by our war machine and underneath the weapon name is the name of the manufacturer with the name of Dawn’s CEO good buddy next to that. There is small sign above the board that reveals to all that this is Dawn’s board and for his use only.

This board is used to determine which weapons we will use in our ‘peacekeeping’ efforts. What’s interesting is that out of the 27 slices on the dartboard two of the slices take up almost 93% of the pie with the other slivers completing the ring. Somewhere in there you remember that the names of the companies in the two big slices are the same two companies that Dawn sat on the board of directors for. This triggers an alarm in your mind. But that’s ok, because he’s cut all ties to these companies so the thought of collusion is not a valid one.

The other dartboard has the name of potential targets in Iraq and Afghanistan. Above this boards a sign reads, “Dick’s boards and for his use only”. The interesting things here is that every target on the board happens to be a target that would require US rebuilding efforts and strangely enough can only be rebuilt by one of two companies in the word. Haliburton being one of them. But that’s ok. Smalldick no longer has any ties to Halliburton so once again, the thought of collusion is not a valid one..

There is also a small study in the club house. On it’s shelves are several books.. Most are comic books. The big boy section has a few winners such as, “War for Dummies”, “The Road Less Traveled through my Fat Bank Account”, “Offshore Banking”, “How to Hypnotize the Small Mind”, “I’m OK, You’re OK as Long as you Never Ask a Question”, “How to Prune the The Legislative Branch” and first edition hardbook copies of every Hardy Boys Mysteries ever written since this is the kind of intellectual stimulation that will keep the steel-trap minds of these mental juggernauts sharp as a tack.

The impressive ‘The Art of War’ is also on the shelf but after closer inspection one can see that all the pages have been removed and replaced with “10 years of Oui”.

The most read book is of course Non-Curious George.

In the corner of the study, Brownie (as George refers to him. However, we’ll refer to him as Batter since things obviously weren’t baked all the way) is on a computer playing a game which appears to be a variety of SIMS. You’re relieved to know that it isn’t the SIMS variety where one tries to get laid (Chernoff kept that one for himself) but is titled “SIMS: Disaster Planning”. This has hope. Unfortunately Batter never made it past the first two scenarios to where an actual disaster ever takes place and could be simulated since scenario one was devoted to proper attire. He finally solved it by leaving it up to his secretary. By that time it was too late.

Next to the computer station is a plate full of chicken wings with it’s orange spicy sauce dripping off the plate onto the small table. But that’s no small table. That three and a half foot structure is actually the 47,343 page $245 million FEMA disaster plan. It still has that ‘never been read’ look to it. But how can you expect it to have been read when it is supporting such a precious cargo.

Dawn, Batter and Smalldick to you I say enjoy your time in the clubhouse. Smoke your cigars, read your comic books and skeleton fuck the prez puppet doll for all your worth. I have no ill feelings towards you since I’m sure your actions are simply the result of narcisstic parents that didn’t coddle you enough as children. It’s not your fault. It’s too late for any of you guys to go down in history as anything other than “Part of the worst leadership regime to serve the US” so relax. The pressure is off. There’s no need to ‘do’ anything anymore. So don’t.

No really, please don’t ‘do’ anything else. Just sit there and be good little boys.

Put your LNG tankers away children

When I was a child one of my favorite distractions was one of those games where the object is to maneuver a little steel ball through a three dimensional maze from a start point to an end point by twisting two little knobs on the sides of a wooden box that tilted a small table in two axis that allowed one to maneuver the ball around a series of holes. There were about 30 holes in total. Fall into any of the holes, you lose as the little steel ball would plummet 4 inches to the bottom of the box and make a slow, audible 'roll of shame' to an exit point where one could grab the ball and suffer through another episode. I believe the game was called 'Labyrinth' or some other clever name that the good folks at Parker Brothers or Milton Bradley thought of. Bottom line - Ball in hole was bad.

A few years later I began to enjoy basketball. At 13, my 6'1" 'growth spurt' riddled body may have been awkward and slow and had about as much grace as Rosanne but was a definitely a presence in the paint. I liked the game. The sport was simple. Take the ball and put it in the basket. Bottom line - Ball in hole was good.

What Pythagoras induced tangent am I off on now?

Looking at these two activities and their natural states of the game without any intervention one can see that in the game of Labyrinth, the natural state was for the ball to fall into the hole. In basketball, the natural order is for the ball not to be in the hole. One requires effort and skill to avoid the hole and... Enough, you get the point..

In our own little backyard called Passamaquoddy Bay there are a few groups of folks that are determined to build an LNG terminal to help bring this 'viable energy source' to the Northeast.

Of all the crazed and stupid things I've seen in my life this is about the most ridiculous plan I've ever come across. I mean ever. This one has all the foresight of a 17 year old pubescent teenage boy grabbing the Kleenex box or gym sock at the same time he went to his room after mommy and daddy left with his 'he's a bad influence' uncles copy of 'Big Jugs' magazine 'borrowed' from the back of unc's Lance camper.

I think about this and I get excited. I literally get an emotional charge inside from how stupid this plan is. I feel embarrassed for the guy that came up with this idea.

Let me explain why.

First off our little backyard is one of the few coastal areas that are still somewhat intact from a natural standpoint. There are eagles and whales and all the other Greenpeace propaganda goodies. Mother Nature hasn't packed her bags here yet. "OK, it's green. What else ya got", you may ask.

The body of water is part of the Bay of Fundy. Being geographically ignorant I couldn't have pointed the Bay of Fundy out to you on a map to save my life until I moved here. In fact, I thought it was overseas somewhere. However, the one thing I did know about the Bay of Fundy was that it had huge tides. I knew this because I read about it in the Guinness Book of World Records (when it had records that were meaningful; thing like world's tallest man, world's fattest woman and largest tree opposed to today’s variety which includes a record for the jag-off that can shove the most ping pong balls in various orifices of his body). Back then, if it was in Guinness, it meant something. I also knew that where there were big tides there were big currents. The tides on the Bay of Fundy are so large that there is actually a waterfall that forms when the current comes IN to the bay going uphill. The current is so strong that there is a whirlpool on one of the points of land. Not the type of whirlpool that you'd see on those 1492 maps in your Prentice-Hall high school history book with an 8 tentacled sea monster coming out of it. But it definitely looks like someone hit the lever and all things bad are on their way out. Bottom line.. Huge tides with 10-12 knot currents in some areas.

This bay is also comprised of several rocky points, small islands and is quite pinched. It is not what one would call an open body of water. The bay opens up onto the North Atlantic Ocean. I hear North Atlantic and I think, "That's where people die". Every movie I've watched that had scenes in the North Atlantic included death since the weather can be so tempestuous (which is a word I've never used before). Not that one should base his weather disaster information on such quality cinematic pieces as "The Perfect Storm" but if George "Save Darfur" Clooney can't make it then who the hell can. Seriously, this area is known for storms that produce 70 mile an hour winds (with 35 mile per hour winds being typical 4 months of the year), chowder thick fog (mine is the watery variety of pea soup) with a proclivity to change at a moments notice along the same lines as a college coed once you try and steal that extra base. From I'm gonna get some to a firm backhand is on par with cold with a mild breeze to an ass-kickin' Nor’easter.

So hopefully you get the picture.. This ain't Lake Tahoe on a sunny summer day.

Let's talk about the LNG tankers they want to bring in here. Big is a relative term so I'll simply describe them and you can make up your own mind as to how big or small they are. Let's start with a comparison. The size of the LNG tanker proposed to sail into “Pinchedamaquoddy Bay” is the same size as an aircraft carrier. Not one of those WWII carriers that prop driven Corsairs would call home but the Goose and Maverick variety needed to land F-14's. Over 1,000 feet long. Almost a quarter of a mile. In fact, when you try and find the length of one of these ships (because length always matters) it is difficult since the size of ship is listed in both gross tons (250 thousand ton - 200 million pounds) and cubic meters (160,000 cubic meters). They contain enough steel to build over 10,000 automobiles. Look, they are big ships. Enough comparison giving. You've all seen a big ship. Big fuckin' ship. Yes, big might be a relative term but since a ship is what people use as big to compare other things to we'll just let this be a given.

Remember when Tommy Franks would give his CNN war briefing. Remember that map he would have of the Persian Gulf that would be propped up on the Aaron Bothers purchased easel as if after the presentation he was going to work on a nice piece. Remember how they would have a couple Colorform ships that would be pressed onto the map in the Persian Gulf and you'd think somewhere in your still soft part of your mind, "Yeah, but this isn't to scale". Picture that map in your mind and how the ship almost filled the Persian Gulf. That same map could be used here only that the scale would be correct!

The ship is designed to keep its cargo liquefied. LNG in its natural form is a gas. However, to transport it efficiently one needs to liquefy it. To accomplish this, the 'viable energy option' is brought under enormous pressure and then must be maintained on the ship at -163 degrees Celsius. Even at the less impressive 'Celsius' scale the number is fantastic. This equates to around -300 degrees Fahrenheit and is approaching a mythical physical state called absolute freezing.

The more I write about this the crazier it gets. I start putting all of this together and it's like a Hollywood movie. I recall that quality film "Very, Very Bad Things" where several Hollywood writers sat in a room and kept trying to outdo each other and pile more extraordinarily bad shit onto the same situation which wound up with a gifted woman gone white trash wife taking care of her paraplegic husband while two rabid children run about the WalMart-toy filled yard foaming at the mouth..

Hollywood would have a hard time piling this much bad shit into an LNG scenario.

OK.. Huge ship. Tiny bay. Explosive cargo kept in an unnatural state at almost absolute freezing. Bitch slapping weather. You get the point.

Bringing ships into this bay is the equivalent of playing Labyrinth where the natural state of the ball is to fall into the hole. The natural state. If man's intervention were to go awry things go to the natural state. The natural state in this case would be a gizillion ton tanker filled with highly explosive cargo careening off of sharp rocky points in a closed off body of water surrounded by one of natures last bastions containing several species that are close to making their final exit off of planet earth.

The tugs will be good and their captains able. We all know how consistently accurate weather forecasting is. We can throw whatever bits of technology at this thing we want but the fact remains that things will always strive to go towards the natural order. The most technologically sophisticated jetliners are never intended to fall from the sky. However, if you're subscribing to the same cable channels I am you know differently. They go towards their natural order on a regular basis. That is how things are..

If LNG is indeed a viable energy option then the natural order for the environment for the terminal needs to be more like the game of basketball where it takes skill to get the ball into the hole rather than skill to keep the ball out of the hole. Where if 'all things man' fall apart the tanker is simply left to drift off into the middle of the ocean or worst case scenario ease up onto a soft sandbar. Transfer it offshore, transfer it on a vacant stretch of coast in an uninhabited and desolate area. If these areas don't exit then it wasn't meant to be. Don't force something where it doesn't belong. It never turns out right in the long run. NEVER. NEVER.

I can write for hours on this topic but will keep it to the ridiculous sub-heading of "Big Ship, Little Tempestuous Bay" (I got to use the word again). We'll save other topics such as 'How Long can a pier Be', 'How to Become a Thermodynamics Physicist with a Pulp Mill Background', 'Screw Canada', 'Indian Reservations are for Casinos, not LNG Terminals' and 'I'll Stick My Pipe where I want" for another day.

The idea of my kids picking up the good book of Guinness in 15 years and reading about the world's largest non-nuclear explosion and how it occurred in our backyard which is now one large piece of heat fused mass is a troubling one.

So to you Dean Girdis and Brian Smith, go grab your basketball, a six pack of beer, find a court with a hoop and I'll throw in a new nylon net so you can get some satisfaction from that nice swishy sound. Hell, I'll even throw in a couple Big Jugs magazines. But you're big boys now so don't forget your tissue..