So today was today, and today was good. Woke up and worked outside, made the back yard a bit more like a yard and a bit less like half an acre of Borneo. Working outside brings me out of my head for a while, lets me smell and see and hear and touch without analyzing everything, and that’s good. Growing up on land with animals, yard work, and quiet woods put a good sense of calm into me that I rely on from time to time when I’m surrounded by cars, people, cell phones, people, computers, oh and people. Sometimes I forget how nice it can be to just shape nature around you. Luckily our yard has quite the mind of its own and has prodigiously found its way into places it shouldn’t be, thus providing me with days and days of communal pruning, chopping and digging.
But not for a while, for there is travel ahead and I must make ready to live my days as a beach bum.
There, all done, I’m ready. Now I just have to pack and I’m off.
Brain not functioning, must sleep. Write more tomorrow.
But, like any good Captain I’ll leave you all with some lovely words to enjoy, some of you may even recognize them.
Take my love, take my land
Take me where I cannot stand
I don't care, I'm still free
You can't take the sky from me
Take me out to the black
Tell them I ain't comin' back
Burn the land and boil the sea
You can't take the sky from me
There's no place I can be
Since I found Serenity
But you can't take the sky from me...
30 April 2006
29 April 2006
Saturday Night feverless...
Sitting on the couch, being the wild individual I’m want to be whenever Saturday rolls around. Wife is out gallivanting with friends downtown and I’m left to my devices for a few hours. This, unfortunately, is not the clanging sound of an opening jail cell as it is for so many other married men. Nay, tis but the call of the dodo bird, the Tasmanian wolf, and the carrier pigeon. What’s that you say? None of these animals exist anymore on this earth? Quite right. And therefore their collective call is nothing but silence. Pure, sweet, unfettered quiet. Not that Whit brings about chaos and noise when she’s here, but she’s far more active than I and while conscious requires either a stereo or a TV be on at all times. I, on the other hand, tend to seek a quiet corner in which to think when the opportunity presents itself, and tonight is rife with opportunity.
Thus, I’ve been thinking about many things. Surprisingly enough none of them are the newsworthy items one would expect to see me commenting on, so if you’re in my neighborhood of the web looking for topicality, turn back now and save yourself some neurons. I’ve been cleaning out my mental closets in preparation for Key West next week. You see, whenever I take a trip to what I like to call “Home” (not just the Keys, really any place where land meets ocean in a tropical or sub-tropical climate) I like to do so with as little baggage as possible – mentally speaking. I’m of the opinion that our world doesn’t afford us the quiet time necessary to properly process the amount of information we’re bombarded with each day. As such I find it nice to purge my brain of the detritus as often as possible. Anyone who finds themselves unable to cope with things around them should try this from time to time. If it sounds too sketchy to say you sit around in a low lit room with no noise except your own breathing, just do what Asian martial arts masters have been doing since 4000 B.C.: Call it meditation.
Items of interest:
Let’s see, what do I have to tell that anyone would care about.
Nope, sorry, I got nothin’.
Oh, I did see an interesting movie last night on recommendation from one of Whit’s friends. It’s called “Ginger Snaps”. A cute little tail about two sisters, one 15 one 16 in Ontario who are obsessed with death and suicide until the older one is attacked and bitten by a werewolf and begins to change into one herself. Much of the movie is campy, not surprisingly, in the way you would expect a teen aged horror flick would be. But there are things about this movie I found wonderful. While the cast was limited as far as the Hollywood ‘A’ list is concerned (the only actor I recognized was Mimi Rogers, who convincingly played the girls’ clueless mother), the actors did an admirable job of pulling off some scenes that, in many movies, can prove impossible to do convincingly.
One particular example is the high school scene. Unlike most of the films we see these days where everyone in the school is a ‘type’ and each stereotype is duly represented in some sick homage to diversity, this movie shows kids as they are: Awkward, unsophisticated and driven by simple ideas and urges. (If it sounds like I’m insulting high school aged children I’m not, I’m not that far out of high school and I still remember myself at that age.) High school aged kids work on a much different level as adults and as such aren’t given to the well thought out soliloquies delivered by the cast of Dawson’s Creek on a weekly basis. I appreciate it when a writer and director have the forethought to write a 15 year old like a 15 year old. Simple, I know, but rare in most movies.
Another thing I appreciate are the horror scenes. Though the effects budget for this movie probably rivaled the daily sales figures at an all you can eat steak house in Bombay, they made the most of the actor’s ability to be scared by something I could have made in camp when I was ten. Call it trite, but when an actor can suspend their own reality enough to convincingly convey not only terror but the confusion that comes with seeing something like a werewolf for the first time enough to suspend my belief that the paper mache ‘monster’ is actually real, I’m impressed.
All in all, the movie was fun. The ending was a bit weak, but you can’t have everything.
Well, my buddy Ron White is on the television (which is no longer muted) and I feel the urge to eat popcorn and laugh at some really funny stuff, so I bid you all good night.
Capt.
Thus, I’ve been thinking about many things. Surprisingly enough none of them are the newsworthy items one would expect to see me commenting on, so if you’re in my neighborhood of the web looking for topicality, turn back now and save yourself some neurons. I’ve been cleaning out my mental closets in preparation for Key West next week. You see, whenever I take a trip to what I like to call “Home” (not just the Keys, really any place where land meets ocean in a tropical or sub-tropical climate) I like to do so with as little baggage as possible – mentally speaking. I’m of the opinion that our world doesn’t afford us the quiet time necessary to properly process the amount of information we’re bombarded with each day. As such I find it nice to purge my brain of the detritus as often as possible. Anyone who finds themselves unable to cope with things around them should try this from time to time. If it sounds too sketchy to say you sit around in a low lit room with no noise except your own breathing, just do what Asian martial arts masters have been doing since 4000 B.C.: Call it meditation.
Items of interest:
Let’s see, what do I have to tell that anyone would care about.
Nope, sorry, I got nothin’.
Oh, I did see an interesting movie last night on recommendation from one of Whit’s friends. It’s called “Ginger Snaps”. A cute little tail about two sisters, one 15 one 16 in Ontario who are obsessed with death and suicide until the older one is attacked and bitten by a werewolf and begins to change into one herself. Much of the movie is campy, not surprisingly, in the way you would expect a teen aged horror flick would be. But there are things about this movie I found wonderful. While the cast was limited as far as the Hollywood ‘A’ list is concerned (the only actor I recognized was Mimi Rogers, who convincingly played the girls’ clueless mother), the actors did an admirable job of pulling off some scenes that, in many movies, can prove impossible to do convincingly.
One particular example is the high school scene. Unlike most of the films we see these days where everyone in the school is a ‘type’ and each stereotype is duly represented in some sick homage to diversity, this movie shows kids as they are: Awkward, unsophisticated and driven by simple ideas and urges. (If it sounds like I’m insulting high school aged children I’m not, I’m not that far out of high school and I still remember myself at that age.) High school aged kids work on a much different level as adults and as such aren’t given to the well thought out soliloquies delivered by the cast of Dawson’s Creek on a weekly basis. I appreciate it when a writer and director have the forethought to write a 15 year old like a 15 year old. Simple, I know, but rare in most movies.
Another thing I appreciate are the horror scenes. Though the effects budget for this movie probably rivaled the daily sales figures at an all you can eat steak house in Bombay, they made the most of the actor’s ability to be scared by something I could have made in camp when I was ten. Call it trite, but when an actor can suspend their own reality enough to convincingly convey not only terror but the confusion that comes with seeing something like a werewolf for the first time enough to suspend my belief that the paper mache ‘monster’ is actually real, I’m impressed.
All in all, the movie was fun. The ending was a bit weak, but you can’t have everything.
Well, my buddy Ron White is on the television (which is no longer muted) and I feel the urge to eat popcorn and laugh at some really funny stuff, so I bid you all good night.
Capt.
24 April 2006
Those ten things...
1. Solitude. Being away from everything human, everything created by humans, no noises that don’t come from nature, no words, just pure blessed silence.
2. Water – Long wide expanses of water. Oceans, lakes, rivers. The sound of water, rushing, waving, lapping at the hull of my boat. The crashing of waves putting me to sleep and waking me in the morning. The gentle swishing sound when I swim. Water goes with solitude…people can’t talk underwater… this is a good thing.
3. Eyes. People sometimes underestimate the power of eye contact. The human eye can say more than words could ever hope to say in one millionth the time. Eyes convey thoughts, feelings, and truth. They are the only single source of two way communication we as humans are afforded.
4. Imagination. The power of the human mind to rise up beyond reality and convention, to surpass what we know in favor of what could be. In imagining we give birth to characters in books, lands and creatures we’ll never see here on earth, and lives we will never live, but may still be a part of if we so choose.
5. Promises kept. From the simplest to the eternal, a promise kept is a sure footing in every situation.
6. Music. I’m of the opinion that music is the original means by which all sentient life on this planet could be controlled. If you ever question the power of music simply take it out of any situation where emotion, especially high emotion is involved. Would movies be half of what they are with no score? Would Jaws have been so terrifying without his requisite two note calling card? Would we all have shed a single tear for ET upon his departure had John Williams not been so skilled in writing for French horn? Never underestimate the power of music, for good or evil. Lucifer himself was the angel of music after-all.
7. Truth. Veritas, 真相,Waarheid, Vérité, Wahrheit, Αλήθεια, Verità, Правда, Verdad.
Whatever word you use, truth is that which cannot be denied, cannot be destroyed, and will always come forth, even over millennia. Truth is the ultimate reality. There is not existence without truth, because truth is fact, truth is what IS. We know that gravity IS because we don’t float away from the planet. Gravity is truth on Earth. Truth is painful, but only as painful as the band-aid being removed. Truth brings healing, forgiveness, and happiness to those who seek peace. Truth also allows us to know evil when we see it, because evil will never tell the truth when it can lie instead.
Here are some examples of truth shedding light on lie:
Al Gore DID NOT invent the internet
Ted Kennedy IS responsible for the death of a young woman
Diversity for the sake of diversity is foolish, and only leads to weakness
I could go on, but this is just not the time or place.
8. Books –The written word is responsible for who we are as humans. Were we all to disappear tomorrow and another life form visit the Earth, were they to understand our written languages they would know us. Our beliefs, our hopes, our dreams, our knowledge. In this time more than any other the power to read and write surpasses the power to kill and heal. In the information age the quick and the dead differentiated by the mind, not the sword.
9. Pets. The idea that we can communicate to other creatures without words and receive ten times the love we give, in many cases without disserving it, should be a lesson to us all.
10. Freedom. I don’t think many of us know what it is to live without freedom, in any way. But I’m fairly sure that were any of us to lose it overnight we’d notice. I love that I can get in my car and drive as far as I wish in any direction I wish without notifying anyone. I love that I can quit my job and sell fruit by the roadside if I so desire, and no one can stop me.
There you have it. I’m punchy today so I’m sure this isn’t as whimsical as it could be, but such is life.
I hereby tag:
Whit
Sarge
Russ
and
Dave D.
2. Water – Long wide expanses of water. Oceans, lakes, rivers. The sound of water, rushing, waving, lapping at the hull of my boat. The crashing of waves putting me to sleep and waking me in the morning. The gentle swishing sound when I swim. Water goes with solitude…people can’t talk underwater… this is a good thing.
3. Eyes. People sometimes underestimate the power of eye contact. The human eye can say more than words could ever hope to say in one millionth the time. Eyes convey thoughts, feelings, and truth. They are the only single source of two way communication we as humans are afforded.
4. Imagination. The power of the human mind to rise up beyond reality and convention, to surpass what we know in favor of what could be. In imagining we give birth to characters in books, lands and creatures we’ll never see here on earth, and lives we will never live, but may still be a part of if we so choose.
5. Promises kept. From the simplest to the eternal, a promise kept is a sure footing in every situation.
6. Music. I’m of the opinion that music is the original means by which all sentient life on this planet could be controlled. If you ever question the power of music simply take it out of any situation where emotion, especially high emotion is involved. Would movies be half of what they are with no score? Would Jaws have been so terrifying without his requisite two note calling card? Would we all have shed a single tear for ET upon his departure had John Williams not been so skilled in writing for French horn? Never underestimate the power of music, for good or evil. Lucifer himself was the angel of music after-all.
7. Truth. Veritas, 真相,Waarheid, Vérité, Wahrheit, Αλήθεια, Verità, Правда, Verdad.
Whatever word you use, truth is that which cannot be denied, cannot be destroyed, and will always come forth, even over millennia. Truth is the ultimate reality. There is not existence without truth, because truth is fact, truth is what IS. We know that gravity IS because we don’t float away from the planet. Gravity is truth on Earth. Truth is painful, but only as painful as the band-aid being removed. Truth brings healing, forgiveness, and happiness to those who seek peace. Truth also allows us to know evil when we see it, because evil will never tell the truth when it can lie instead.
Here are some examples of truth shedding light on lie:
Al Gore DID NOT invent the internet
Ted Kennedy IS responsible for the death of a young woman
Diversity for the sake of diversity is foolish, and only leads to weakness
I could go on, but this is just not the time or place.
8. Books –The written word is responsible for who we are as humans. Were we all to disappear tomorrow and another life form visit the Earth, were they to understand our written languages they would know us. Our beliefs, our hopes, our dreams, our knowledge. In this time more than any other the power to read and write surpasses the power to kill and heal. In the information age the quick and the dead differentiated by the mind, not the sword.
9. Pets. The idea that we can communicate to other creatures without words and receive ten times the love we give, in many cases without disserving it, should be a lesson to us all.
10. Freedom. I don’t think many of us know what it is to live without freedom, in any way. But I’m fairly sure that were any of us to lose it overnight we’d notice. I love that I can get in my car and drive as far as I wish in any direction I wish without notifying anyone. I love that I can quit my job and sell fruit by the roadside if I so desire, and no one can stop me.
There you have it. I’m punchy today so I’m sure this isn’t as whimsical as it could be, but such is life.
I hereby tag:
Whit
Sarge
Russ
and
Dave D.
21 April 2006
Friday...
Hello kiddies, and happy Friday. For the last few days I have been all that is busy and have neglected my beloved readers… Unlike Ted Kennedy, I apologize.
Much has happened and is happening in our world. Let’s all take the time to breath deep the free air and let go of the stress from Monday through Thursday…
There, that’s better.
I really don’t feel like muck-raking today so I’ll just supply you with a few treasured song lyrics and quotes that make me smile. If you have any you like please comment them on over, I love new ones.
“The woods are lovely, dark, and deep
But I have promises to keep
And Miles to Go Before I sleep
And Miles to Go Before I sleep” -Robert Frost
“But the road was long and home was far
So I stopped off at this little cowboy-looking bar
I walked on through the door and she just smiled
In a long pony tail and a pretty white dress
She said hi bull riders do it best
I said oh my God what's your name
My name's Lyle” Lyle Lovett – Give Back My Heart
“Save a baby seal...Club a liberal”
“Save the Wales…for last, they’re great for dessert.”
“We must hang together, or surely we shall hang separately” - Ben Franklin.
“It’s ok to kiss a fool, it’s ok to let a fool kiss you, but never let a kiss fool you”
(This next one explains most liberal academians)
“Nothing in the world can take the place of persistence. Talent will not. Nothing is more common than unsuccessful men with talent. Genius will not. Unrewarded genius is almost a proverb. Education will not. The world is full of educated derelicts. Persistence, determination and hard work make the difference.” -- Calvin Coolidge
"Knowledge talks, wisdom listens"
And with that I leave you to your weekend. I hope it’s a good one.
As for me, I’ll be attending a friend’s bachelor party tomorrow… I promise to post the mug shots if there are any….
As you were.
Captain.
Much has happened and is happening in our world. Let’s all take the time to breath deep the free air and let go of the stress from Monday through Thursday…
There, that’s better.
I really don’t feel like muck-raking today so I’ll just supply you with a few treasured song lyrics and quotes that make me smile. If you have any you like please comment them on over, I love new ones.
“The woods are lovely, dark, and deep
But I have promises to keep
And Miles to Go Before I sleep
And Miles to Go Before I sleep” -Robert Frost
“But the road was long and home was far
So I stopped off at this little cowboy-looking bar
I walked on through the door and she just smiled
In a long pony tail and a pretty white dress
She said hi bull riders do it best
I said oh my God what's your name
My name's Lyle” Lyle Lovett – Give Back My Heart
“Save a baby seal...Club a liberal”
“Save the Wales…for last, they’re great for dessert.”
“We must hang together, or surely we shall hang separately” - Ben Franklin.
“It’s ok to kiss a fool, it’s ok to let a fool kiss you, but never let a kiss fool you”
(This next one explains most liberal academians)
“Nothing in the world can take the place of persistence. Talent will not. Nothing is more common than unsuccessful men with talent. Genius will not. Unrewarded genius is almost a proverb. Education will not. The world is full of educated derelicts. Persistence, determination and hard work make the difference.” -- Calvin Coolidge
"Knowledge talks, wisdom listens"
And with that I leave you to your weekend. I hope it’s a good one.
As for me, I’ll be attending a friend’s bachelor party tomorrow… I promise to post the mug shots if there are any….
As you were.
Captain.
17 April 2006
Landfall again...
Top ‘o’ the morning to one and all, yer Captain has returned. I bring tales of sunshine, salt air, and crustaceans to temp the senses…and pictures to back it all up. If you hear me softly weeping as I recount my adventures this Easter weekend it’s because I’m sitting here at my desk, 300 miles land locked once more.
Friday was fast, I worked half a day and ran home to pack and escape with all speed, trying to avoid the Friday Atlanta rush hour (which I forgot lasts from 7 am to 8 pm on most roads). We were packed and out the door by 2, Millie the pirate dog in tow, ready for a nice weekend with the fam. It took us an hour to get outside Atlanta metro, but once out we averaged about 88 miles an hour straight through. Once in Mt. Pleasant we stopped off at the cigar store by Whit’s dad’s house to acquire the requisite smokables and offerings to the father in law. Many good sticks were purchased.
Then it was on to the homestead to pick up Whit’s father and make for the Isle of Palms with all speed. We met some friends who have recently moved to James Island (lucky buggers) and found a cozy, if not overly touristed eatery called the Banana Cabana. The name was hokey, the atmosphere was part grungy townie, part flabby tourist, but the Yuengling was cold on tap and the food was delicious. For my part I had a fried oyster po’ boy and fries, and of course a couple of ice cold Yuenglings to help wash it down. We sacked out a bit early for our age, but the long day on the road had taken its toll.
Saturday we woke early and showered, then took Millie the pirate dog out to the canal for a morning swim. In the past she would be in the water before we could catch her to put her life jacket on her, but this time she’s got much shorter hair, and the sun wasn’t yet scorching the land, so she was hesitant to jump until she saw a leaf float by. Something in her wily dog brain cannot allow any leaf to float in water unmolested, she’s obliged to dive in and snap it up like a furry little shark. After a few dives and retrievals we dried her off and went inside to greet the parents.
We all agreed that an early lunch would be better than a late breakfast so we headed forthwith to our first destination of the morning, Charlestown Landing. For those who aren’t familiar with the area, Charleston is in fact the second such settlement of that name (minus the American slanging of the word Charlestown). The first is now inside a national park and protected from development. This is probably for the best since they still haven’t found it all. The site is still an active archeological dig, which I find fascinating. Too bad I don’t have an archeology degree and time to waste. The weather was beautiful so we spend just under 2 hours roaming the grounds, looking at the recreated battlements and buildings. There’s even a model of the first ship that brought the first Charles-townies to the area. Built in the early 1970’s it’s now in dry dock, spending its last few months and years rotting away in the weather. They’re building a new model, however, right beside the old one and should be done by year’s end. They’re sticking with the traditional building methods as much as possible, which is great (especially for purists like meself).
After we left the landing we headed for Folly beach, hoping to cash in on some tasty crab legs and surf shop browsing. It became apparent very quickly though that the floodgates had been opened and every yokel from Wilmington to Jacksonville was lined up past the bridge, feet hanging out the window, Dale Earnhardt tank tops billowing in the breeze, creating a 3+ mile traffic jam. We quickly hove to and headed for downtown Charleston, landing at the King Street Grill. I continued my po’boying activities with a shrimp sandwich and waffle fries. Again, good crustacean and cold beer. I was two for two. We walked about after lunch, visiting some old haunts, Half Moon Outfitters, Margaritaville, and the like. We skipped back home to pick up Millie and take her to the beach for some further swimming activates. She wasn’t quite as gung ho as she is with still water, but I think she enjoyed the surf a bit. The sun was heading off west and the wind was cooling so we short shifted our beaching activities in favor of dinner. Our destination for the evening feeding was a small place on the edge of Shem Creek (way back in the middle of nowhere) called The Wreck. We waited a little less than an hour, sitting on the dock, watching the sky go from blue to pink to purple and finally starry black. The sand gnats were already out and feasting, so we slathered all of our exposed skin with the fisherman’s magical liquid of life, otherwise known as Avon Skin So Soft. With the no-see-ums in check we had a lively time just people watching and enjoying the evening by the sea. Dinner came in the form of she crab soup and a combo platter of crustaceans; multiple, fried and domestic. Great shrimp, big plump oysters and sweet scallops lulled me into the friendliest of food comas and set the stage for the rest of the evening spent on the back porch back at the house, enjoying a nice Fuente Fuente Opus X.
Sunday morning we were up and dressed and off to Easter Service at the in-law’s church called Seacoast Church (a non denominational). It was much fun and even had a bit of unexpected excitement. We were sitting in the middle about four rows back, about 20 feet from the stage when over to stage left we saw a commotion. It looked like someone was falling down, and at a closer glance reaching down and I heard a noise that sounded like electricity popping, so I figured a chord had grounded out and was popping and the usher was disconnecting it. How wrong I was. A snake had gotten into the room and was trucking along in front of the lilies that lined the stage. The usher had seen it and quickly grabbed it and removed it. People gasped and oohed and ahhhed and even laughed. The preacher, a good natured and quick witted man, quickly began laughing and shook his head saying “Well, we don’t usually handle those in this church, but at least our ushers are well trained”. This fit the mood perfectly and everyone laughed and refocused on the service. All in all it was wonderful and cheery. After church we again headed downtown to an Easter Brunch at the Magnolia, a fantastic restaurant specializing in Southern Cuisine. Lunch consisted of some of the best blue crab bisque I’ve ever tasted, some braised chicken livers in a caramelized onion and pancetta sauce, and then the coup de gras, a fried softshell crab BLT. Everything was fresh and as tasty as could be. After filling up on all the wonders of the Magnolia I popped over to the Smoker’s Lamp to pick up a couple more sticks for the road. We walked around the pier and enjoyed the day a bit more before heading back to the house to pack and say our goodbyes. We were on the road by 4:30 and back home by 10. I’m still confused about what to eat for lunch as I don’t have any seafood readily available to me and I’ve eaten nothing but crustacean for three days….but I’ll survive.
This little vacation has been a while coming and was all too short, but still much appreciated. For now I hope you’ve enjoyed reading my clumsy synopsis of a beautiful weekend, by mid-week I should be back to my ranting form. For now I’m just going to sit back, close my eyes, and pretend the shrill voices of my co-workers are seagulls, and the air conditioner is the ocean wind.
Here’s to better days, and other days spend dreaming about them…
Captain.
Friday was fast, I worked half a day and ran home to pack and escape with all speed, trying to avoid the Friday Atlanta rush hour (which I forgot lasts from 7 am to 8 pm on most roads). We were packed and out the door by 2, Millie the pirate dog in tow, ready for a nice weekend with the fam. It took us an hour to get outside Atlanta metro, but once out we averaged about 88 miles an hour straight through. Once in Mt. Pleasant we stopped off at the cigar store by Whit’s dad’s house to acquire the requisite smokables and offerings to the father in law. Many good sticks were purchased.
Then it was on to the homestead to pick up Whit’s father and make for the Isle of Palms with all speed. We met some friends who have recently moved to James Island (lucky buggers) and found a cozy, if not overly touristed eatery called the Banana Cabana. The name was hokey, the atmosphere was part grungy townie, part flabby tourist, but the Yuengling was cold on tap and the food was delicious. For my part I had a fried oyster po’ boy and fries, and of course a couple of ice cold Yuenglings to help wash it down. We sacked out a bit early for our age, but the long day on the road had taken its toll.
Saturday we woke early and showered, then took Millie the pirate dog out to the canal for a morning swim. In the past she would be in the water before we could catch her to put her life jacket on her, but this time she’s got much shorter hair, and the sun wasn’t yet scorching the land, so she was hesitant to jump until she saw a leaf float by. Something in her wily dog brain cannot allow any leaf to float in water unmolested, she’s obliged to dive in and snap it up like a furry little shark. After a few dives and retrievals we dried her off and went inside to greet the parents.
We all agreed that an early lunch would be better than a late breakfast so we headed forthwith to our first destination of the morning, Charlestown Landing. For those who aren’t familiar with the area, Charleston is in fact the second such settlement of that name (minus the American slanging of the word Charlestown). The first is now inside a national park and protected from development. This is probably for the best since they still haven’t found it all. The site is still an active archeological dig, which I find fascinating. Too bad I don’t have an archeology degree and time to waste. The weather was beautiful so we spend just under 2 hours roaming the grounds, looking at the recreated battlements and buildings. There’s even a model of the first ship that brought the first Charles-townies to the area. Built in the early 1970’s it’s now in dry dock, spending its last few months and years rotting away in the weather. They’re building a new model, however, right beside the old one and should be done by year’s end. They’re sticking with the traditional building methods as much as possible, which is great (especially for purists like meself).
After we left the landing we headed for Folly beach, hoping to cash in on some tasty crab legs and surf shop browsing. It became apparent very quickly though that the floodgates had been opened and every yokel from Wilmington to Jacksonville was lined up past the bridge, feet hanging out the window, Dale Earnhardt tank tops billowing in the breeze, creating a 3+ mile traffic jam. We quickly hove to and headed for downtown Charleston, landing at the King Street Grill. I continued my po’boying activities with a shrimp sandwich and waffle fries. Again, good crustacean and cold beer. I was two for two. We walked about after lunch, visiting some old haunts, Half Moon Outfitters, Margaritaville, and the like. We skipped back home to pick up Millie and take her to the beach for some further swimming activates. She wasn’t quite as gung ho as she is with still water, but I think she enjoyed the surf a bit. The sun was heading off west and the wind was cooling so we short shifted our beaching activities in favor of dinner. Our destination for the evening feeding was a small place on the edge of Shem Creek (way back in the middle of nowhere) called The Wreck. We waited a little less than an hour, sitting on the dock, watching the sky go from blue to pink to purple and finally starry black. The sand gnats were already out and feasting, so we slathered all of our exposed skin with the fisherman’s magical liquid of life, otherwise known as Avon Skin So Soft. With the no-see-ums in check we had a lively time just people watching and enjoying the evening by the sea. Dinner came in the form of she crab soup and a combo platter of crustaceans; multiple, fried and domestic. Great shrimp, big plump oysters and sweet scallops lulled me into the friendliest of food comas and set the stage for the rest of the evening spent on the back porch back at the house, enjoying a nice Fuente Fuente Opus X.
Sunday morning we were up and dressed and off to Easter Service at the in-law’s church called Seacoast Church (a non denominational). It was much fun and even had a bit of unexpected excitement. We were sitting in the middle about four rows back, about 20 feet from the stage when over to stage left we saw a commotion. It looked like someone was falling down, and at a closer glance reaching down and I heard a noise that sounded like electricity popping, so I figured a chord had grounded out and was popping and the usher was disconnecting it. How wrong I was. A snake had gotten into the room and was trucking along in front of the lilies that lined the stage. The usher had seen it and quickly grabbed it and removed it. People gasped and oohed and ahhhed and even laughed. The preacher, a good natured and quick witted man, quickly began laughing and shook his head saying “Well, we don’t usually handle those in this church, but at least our ushers are well trained”. This fit the mood perfectly and everyone laughed and refocused on the service. All in all it was wonderful and cheery. After church we again headed downtown to an Easter Brunch at the Magnolia, a fantastic restaurant specializing in Southern Cuisine. Lunch consisted of some of the best blue crab bisque I’ve ever tasted, some braised chicken livers in a caramelized onion and pancetta sauce, and then the coup de gras, a fried softshell crab BLT. Everything was fresh and as tasty as could be. After filling up on all the wonders of the Magnolia I popped over to the Smoker’s Lamp to pick up a couple more sticks for the road. We walked around the pier and enjoyed the day a bit more before heading back to the house to pack and say our goodbyes. We were on the road by 4:30 and back home by 10. I’m still confused about what to eat for lunch as I don’t have any seafood readily available to me and I’ve eaten nothing but crustacean for three days….but I’ll survive.
This little vacation has been a while coming and was all too short, but still much appreciated. For now I hope you’ve enjoyed reading my clumsy synopsis of a beautiful weekend, by mid-week I should be back to my ranting form. For now I’m just going to sit back, close my eyes, and pretend the shrill voices of my co-workers are seagulls, and the air conditioner is the ocean wind.
Here’s to better days, and other days spend dreaming about them…
Captain.
13 April 2006
Katie Bar the Door...
So after looking at my previous post I realized that I’ve probably been unhealthily internalizing things for a while now with work being so busy and no respite except sleep, and very little of that.
So tonight I won’t rant. Heck, I won’t even mention anything inflammatory.
Instead I’ll share my good fortune. Tomorrow I leave for a lazy weekend in Charleston. Whit’s dad lives in Mt. Pleasant about 2 miles from the Isle of Palms and I can’t think of a nicer way to spend Easter than waking up, driving down the street to the beach and sitting until I crave beer. That takes care of 9 to 9:15 am.
I’ll just wing it for the rest of the day.
So in lieu of me not being computer handy this weekend (yes I’ll take the laptop, no I probably won’t blog) I’ll just get the weekend post down now and hope my fervently addicted readers don’t go into withdrawal too bad while I’m gone. Both of them.
I’ll let this edition of THE GOOD LIFE center around all things Charlestonian in order to further share my blessing.
Let’s start with Music. Tomorrow night we’ll be meeting some friends (who recently moved to James Island from Boston - good move there) at the Windjammer on Isle of Palms to have some tasty beverages and watch Tishamingo. I’m not too familiar with the band, they have a road-house kind of feel, but that doesn’t even matter. Given the opportunity to go to Folly and listen to live music by the ocean I’d listen to Zamfir fart into his pan flute all night, just no Streisand, a man’s got to have his standards you know.
Now that music is taken care of we can discuss the important things, like food and beer. Since I’ll be feet wet for the majority of my stay I’ll be eating crustaceans, multiple, cold, and domestic. I don’t discriminate either, if it lives in a shell under salt water, boil it, broil it or shuck it, plaster some Tabasco and butter on it and move out of the way…
As for beer, well, one of the nice treats I get for leaving the great state of Georgia is one of my all time fav’s in a green bottle: Yuengling. For some reason ( I think it probably has something to do with me torturing animals when I was very young) Georgia doesn’t sell Yuengling beer. This isn’t special in and of itself except for the fact that every state that borders Ga. sells Yuengling, and cheap too. If you have the means of picking some up I highly recommend it. I have introduced many people to this beer (you have to spread this kind of love) and never have I given one to anyone who didn’t give a double take and end up drinking the stuff all night long (which includes my entire band who managed to rack up an almost $400 bar tab drinking Yuengling at $2.50 a bottle - do the math)
And of course now there’s the obligatory cigar. I have several I’ve been saving for just such an occasion, though I can’t think of one in particular I’d like to smoke. Luckily there is a fantastic tobacconist right down the street from the house down there who is always more than willing to purvey some lovely stogies at fare market value. Heck, if I make it to Charleston (downtown) I can visit an old haunt, the Smoking Lamp, which just happens to be one of the oldest Tobacconists in America. It opened in 1897 and still carries the charm of the old city. Either way, for a few hours of my trip, I will bask in a warm cloud of Nicaraguan or Honduran or Dominican smoke.
Of course I’ll be shooting (pictures) like mad while I’m there, I’ve finally devoted myself to this book thing and if I start now I might be able to get it to a publisher by the time my kids hit puberty. I’ll try to bring some good shots and great memories back to share. In the mean time, find a shady spot, throw on the Buffett, crank up your blenders, and wax beach bum for a spell.
Until I make landfall once more,
Drink like it’s cheap, drive it like you stole it, and eat like it’s free.
Argh.
Captain.
So tonight I won’t rant. Heck, I won’t even mention anything inflammatory.
Instead I’ll share my good fortune. Tomorrow I leave for a lazy weekend in Charleston. Whit’s dad lives in Mt. Pleasant about 2 miles from the Isle of Palms and I can’t think of a nicer way to spend Easter than waking up, driving down the street to the beach and sitting until I crave beer. That takes care of 9 to 9:15 am.
I’ll just wing it for the rest of the day.
So in lieu of me not being computer handy this weekend (yes I’ll take the laptop, no I probably won’t blog) I’ll just get the weekend post down now and hope my fervently addicted readers don’t go into withdrawal too bad while I’m gone. Both of them.
I’ll let this edition of THE GOOD LIFE center around all things Charlestonian in order to further share my blessing.
Let’s start with Music. Tomorrow night we’ll be meeting some friends (who recently moved to James Island from Boston - good move there) at the Windjammer on Isle of Palms to have some tasty beverages and watch Tishamingo. I’m not too familiar with the band, they have a road-house kind of feel, but that doesn’t even matter. Given the opportunity to go to Folly and listen to live music by the ocean I’d listen to Zamfir fart into his pan flute all night, just no Streisand, a man’s got to have his standards you know.
Now that music is taken care of we can discuss the important things, like food and beer. Since I’ll be feet wet for the majority of my stay I’ll be eating crustaceans, multiple, cold, and domestic. I don’t discriminate either, if it lives in a shell under salt water, boil it, broil it or shuck it, plaster some Tabasco and butter on it and move out of the way…
As for beer, well, one of the nice treats I get for leaving the great state of Georgia is one of my all time fav’s in a green bottle: Yuengling. For some reason ( I think it probably has something to do with me torturing animals when I was very young) Georgia doesn’t sell Yuengling beer. This isn’t special in and of itself except for the fact that every state that borders Ga. sells Yuengling, and cheap too. If you have the means of picking some up I highly recommend it. I have introduced many people to this beer (you have to spread this kind of love) and never have I given one to anyone who didn’t give a double take and end up drinking the stuff all night long (which includes my entire band who managed to rack up an almost $400 bar tab drinking Yuengling at $2.50 a bottle - do the math)
And of course now there’s the obligatory cigar. I have several I’ve been saving for just such an occasion, though I can’t think of one in particular I’d like to smoke. Luckily there is a fantastic tobacconist right down the street from the house down there who is always more than willing to purvey some lovely stogies at fare market value. Heck, if I make it to Charleston (downtown) I can visit an old haunt, the Smoking Lamp, which just happens to be one of the oldest Tobacconists in America. It opened in 1897 and still carries the charm of the old city. Either way, for a few hours of my trip, I will bask in a warm cloud of Nicaraguan or Honduran or Dominican smoke.
Of course I’ll be shooting (pictures) like mad while I’m there, I’ve finally devoted myself to this book thing and if I start now I might be able to get it to a publisher by the time my kids hit puberty. I’ll try to bring some good shots and great memories back to share. In the mean time, find a shady spot, throw on the Buffett, crank up your blenders, and wax beach bum for a spell.
Until I make landfall once more,
Drink like it’s cheap, drive it like you stole it, and eat like it’s free.
Argh.
Captain.
12 April 2006
Happy Birthday
Greetz everyone.
Wow, in looking through the news today there was very little "good" news to report. Actually, none on the major news sources. Well, in my usual drifting against the tide i'll share something a bit more "positive": the Space Shuttle program turned 25 today, with the the boldest, balls-iest, gutsiest test flight in history. To have gotten into that thing with it never having been test flown before (the first time a rocket hadn't been flown unmanned first), well, if there were ever 2 guys with a set of brass ones...
Anyway, something non-depressing to share. Interestingly enough, today is also the 45th anniversary of the first human space flight.
Wow, in looking through the news today there was very little "good" news to report. Actually, none on the major news sources. Well, in my usual drifting against the tide i'll share something a bit more "positive": the Space Shuttle program turned 25 today, with the the boldest, balls-iest, gutsiest test flight in history. To have gotten into that thing with it never having been test flown before (the first time a rocket hadn't been flown unmanned first), well, if there were ever 2 guys with a set of brass ones...
Anyway, something non-depressing to share. Interestingly enough, today is also the 45th anniversary of the first human space flight.
Warning...
Conclusions beware: people will be jumping to you soon and often, especially those in politics. For the last week or so I’ve been doing my normal reading, listening, and talking where news and politics are concerned, but mostly reading and listening. In doing so I’ve noticed something that I find increasingly annoying. It’s one of those things that has always been there, just under the surface, unnamed but ever pervasive and malignant.
Some call it ‘jumping to conclusions’ others call it the ‘slippery slope’ argument type. I don’t really call it anything, but I have a few choice words to describe it: Ignorant, fruitless, childish, cowardly.
It’s the latest greatest form of American witch hunt, this phenomenon. Just point something out (fact or fiction, it really doesn’t matter) and scream loud enough and you’ll get the desired reaction, at least for a while. John Stossal wrote a nice column about one form of this witch hunt in today’s Townhall. Let’s explore this and other types:
Junk Science: Ah the new American drug of choice…panic. As Stossal points out, it’s easier to get a government grant if you “discover” some evil doomsday plot that will end us all in a matter of months than if you just find out that ground up tube worm guts make paint stick to walls better. Science in this country, especially medical science, has donned it’s fishnet stockings, layered on the lipstick, and made its way to the corner, selling its findings to the highest (or latest) bidder. It’s no longer enough to make a real contribution to the world by actually making breakthroughs (however big or small) that lead to the truth. Now it’s all about the money, getting published, and becoming famous. Scientists and researchers are content to skip several steps in the method to come to a conclusion that suits the hypothesis as long as the data “points that way”. I can hold a golf club correctly and am strong enough to hit a golf ball 250 yards off the tee. Those two bits of information point to me being a decent golfer…but I’m not. I’ve played golf twice in my life, and let’s just say I’m glad I can ride a bike and run.
And let me offer this up as a side bar. I work with many research scientists in the medical field and they are, for the most part, delightful people. That being said, many of them, the majority of them in fact, are also spoiled brats. They stamp their feet and pout like five year olds when the government doesn’t give them as much money as they think they disserve to do their research. Never mind that there are no currently usable applications for their work. Never mind that they have yet to turn out any usable data. They want their money and they don’t care where it comes from, (i.e. our taxes) they just want it. While I understand the dynamics of the whole research thing, I can’t help but curl my lip when I talk about it, no doubt because of my affection for capitalism. It just rubs me the wrong way when people who don’t necessarily create or provide anything for the economy (except of course the next big scare) whine and pout when someone doesn’t want to hand them free money.
Next time you have a few days to kill, take the time and research where the majority of technological and medical advancement comes from. I’m willing to bet Sarge’s right leg you’ll find that it will come from companies who have research labs, and not government funded, academian farms.
Social Schism: This is where the witch hunts get really sad. In my daily ingestion of worldly information I do a lot of listening, mostly to Neil Boortz, Shawn Hannity, and the news from the radio station where they’re played, as it doesn’t lean left, and therefore doesn’t paint the news a lovely shade of communist red. What I hear quite often are people who love to debate their views, feverishly at times, each trying to win the other over to their viewpoint.
Pardon my jading, but I find this debate technique completely fruitless. More often than not I find that each side is so focused on bending the other’s will that they ignore truth and validity, opting for the most effective words, but not the right ones. This is where the slippery slope argument takes hold and brings along its friends, fallacy, and inductive syllogism. The words are nerdish and Spock like, but what they do to an otherwise cogent argument is devastating.
Sadly enough, it isn’t ignorance of topic or lack of debate skills that lead people to use these broken tools to build their argument, it’s ego. To quote a writer who captured this idea in a set of novels (strangely enough they were science fiction, but with several political and philosophical underpinnings, Jefferson and Hamilton would have loved them), "People are stupid. They will believe anything that they want to be true or fear to be true." So long as ANY evidence exists to support this belief. Think about it for a minute. I’ll bet you can come up with at least three examples of this in a few seconds…
Here’s a good example:
I tell you that the world is warming up. I’ll dub it “Global Warming”. Then I’ll look around me and see who I can blame for this that will help my agenda. Hmmm, I bet I could get more votes from the environmental crowd if I really stick it to the ‘evil’ corporations around the world and make it seem like a PURELY NATURAL PHENOMENON is their fault. I’ll just offer some government funding to a few laboratories and point them in the right direction.
If you did such a thing people would call you a lot of names. The one that would fit best is Al Gore.
Sadder still is the fact that in any given argument, the truth will always win. It might not make the most noise, wear the brightest bowtie, or appeal to the most people, but it will win. Truth is eternal. If you keep telling someone the truth it will eventually break down all the scaffolding upon which their illusions rest, leaving them a barren and empty landscape to gaze at. But standing in the middle of landscape, with nothing to draw their eyes away, they will have no choice but to see the truth.
Well, I think I’ve harped enough on the generalities of the idea, but just so my point doesn’t go foundering in the wake of these steaming piles of pseudo-revelation, here it is:
The moment you feel like you should panic because of something on the news, be it a new disease that will wipe us all out, comet heading for earth, or the evil agenda of the obviously shady political party in control of EVERYTHING except of course the even MORE evil corporations, is the moment you should stop, look around, take a deep breath, and exhale the bullshit.
Too many people in this country scurry around, accomplishing nothing, just waiting for the next explosion.
After a while, it just gets annoying.
That’s all.
As you were.
Captain.
Some call it ‘jumping to conclusions’ others call it the ‘slippery slope’ argument type. I don’t really call it anything, but I have a few choice words to describe it: Ignorant, fruitless, childish, cowardly.
It’s the latest greatest form of American witch hunt, this phenomenon. Just point something out (fact or fiction, it really doesn’t matter) and scream loud enough and you’ll get the desired reaction, at least for a while. John Stossal wrote a nice column about one form of this witch hunt in today’s Townhall. Let’s explore this and other types:
Junk Science: Ah the new American drug of choice…panic. As Stossal points out, it’s easier to get a government grant if you “discover” some evil doomsday plot that will end us all in a matter of months than if you just find out that ground up tube worm guts make paint stick to walls better. Science in this country, especially medical science, has donned it’s fishnet stockings, layered on the lipstick, and made its way to the corner, selling its findings to the highest (or latest) bidder. It’s no longer enough to make a real contribution to the world by actually making breakthroughs (however big or small) that lead to the truth. Now it’s all about the money, getting published, and becoming famous. Scientists and researchers are content to skip several steps in the method to come to a conclusion that suits the hypothesis as long as the data “points that way”. I can hold a golf club correctly and am strong enough to hit a golf ball 250 yards off the tee. Those two bits of information point to me being a decent golfer…but I’m not. I’ve played golf twice in my life, and let’s just say I’m glad I can ride a bike and run.
And let me offer this up as a side bar. I work with many research scientists in the medical field and they are, for the most part, delightful people. That being said, many of them, the majority of them in fact, are also spoiled brats. They stamp their feet and pout like five year olds when the government doesn’t give them as much money as they think they disserve to do their research. Never mind that there are no currently usable applications for their work. Never mind that they have yet to turn out any usable data. They want their money and they don’t care where it comes from, (i.e. our taxes) they just want it. While I understand the dynamics of the whole research thing, I can’t help but curl my lip when I talk about it, no doubt because of my affection for capitalism. It just rubs me the wrong way when people who don’t necessarily create or provide anything for the economy (except of course the next big scare) whine and pout when someone doesn’t want to hand them free money.
Next time you have a few days to kill, take the time and research where the majority of technological and medical advancement comes from. I’m willing to bet Sarge’s right leg you’ll find that it will come from companies who have research labs, and not government funded, academian farms.
Social Schism: This is where the witch hunts get really sad. In my daily ingestion of worldly information I do a lot of listening, mostly to Neil Boortz, Shawn Hannity, and the news from the radio station where they’re played, as it doesn’t lean left, and therefore doesn’t paint the news a lovely shade of communist red. What I hear quite often are people who love to debate their views, feverishly at times, each trying to win the other over to their viewpoint.
Pardon my jading, but I find this debate technique completely fruitless. More often than not I find that each side is so focused on bending the other’s will that they ignore truth and validity, opting for the most effective words, but not the right ones. This is where the slippery slope argument takes hold and brings along its friends, fallacy, and inductive syllogism. The words are nerdish and Spock like, but what they do to an otherwise cogent argument is devastating.
Sadly enough, it isn’t ignorance of topic or lack of debate skills that lead people to use these broken tools to build their argument, it’s ego. To quote a writer who captured this idea in a set of novels (strangely enough they were science fiction, but with several political and philosophical underpinnings, Jefferson and Hamilton would have loved them), "People are stupid. They will believe anything that they want to be true or fear to be true." So long as ANY evidence exists to support this belief. Think about it for a minute. I’ll bet you can come up with at least three examples of this in a few seconds…
Here’s a good example:
I tell you that the world is warming up. I’ll dub it “Global Warming”. Then I’ll look around me and see who I can blame for this that will help my agenda. Hmmm, I bet I could get more votes from the environmental crowd if I really stick it to the ‘evil’ corporations around the world and make it seem like a PURELY NATURAL PHENOMENON is their fault. I’ll just offer some government funding to a few laboratories and point them in the right direction.
If you did such a thing people would call you a lot of names. The one that would fit best is Al Gore.
Sadder still is the fact that in any given argument, the truth will always win. It might not make the most noise, wear the brightest bowtie, or appeal to the most people, but it will win. Truth is eternal. If you keep telling someone the truth it will eventually break down all the scaffolding upon which their illusions rest, leaving them a barren and empty landscape to gaze at. But standing in the middle of landscape, with nothing to draw their eyes away, they will have no choice but to see the truth.
Well, I think I’ve harped enough on the generalities of the idea, but just so my point doesn’t go foundering in the wake of these steaming piles of pseudo-revelation, here it is:
The moment you feel like you should panic because of something on the news, be it a new disease that will wipe us all out, comet heading for earth, or the evil agenda of the obviously shady political party in control of EVERYTHING except of course the even MORE evil corporations, is the moment you should stop, look around, take a deep breath, and exhale the bullshit.
Too many people in this country scurry around, accomplishing nothing, just waiting for the next explosion.
After a while, it just gets annoying.
That’s all.
As you were.
Captain.
10 April 2006
Come pick me up, I've landed...
Well I’m back from the great west having spent a total of 17 hours in another state to capture exactly 24 minutes of film footage. I love business.
COLOSAL TRAVELING POWER
Itty bitty meeting time.
The good was that San Antonio is a lovely city, nice airport, light traffic, got a free upgrade to a gas guzzling SUV at the rental car place. Didn’t see anything touristy, ate at the airport. Nice, uneventful flights (I generally feel better when I’m in control of the airplane, so uneventful is a good thing when I or Sarge aren’t doing the flying)
So now I sit on my couch once more, watching football in my PJ’s (not the vulgar American type football I watch in fall, but the nice English Premier League type I watch in summer. For anyone who gives a crap Liverpool is beating Bolton 1 – nil.
Having become bored with the news I find myself lacking oomph. I’m in need of a muse.
Looks like I picked the wrong week to quite amphetamines.
Until then, whenever then is,
ARGH.
Captain.
The good was that San Antonio is a lovely city, nice airport, light traffic, got a free upgrade to a gas guzzling SUV at the rental car place. Didn’t see anything touristy, ate at the airport. Nice, uneventful flights (I generally feel better when I’m in control of the airplane, so uneventful is a good thing when I or Sarge aren’t doing the flying)
So now I sit on my couch once more, watching football in my PJ’s (not the vulgar American type football I watch in fall, but the nice English Premier League type I watch in summer. For anyone who gives a crap Liverpool is beating Bolton 1 – nil.
Having become bored with the news I find myself lacking oomph. I’m in need of a muse.
Looks like I picked the wrong week to quite amphetamines.
Until then, whenever then is,
ARGH.
Captain.
08 April 2006
Far from here
Well it's another wild Saturday night and I'm here on my couch wondering where the day went, though that in itself is another waste of time. Work has kept me from spouting off about the most recent string of bad decisions made by those whose decisions make the news. Do you ever get the feeling that people who exist in the public eye do their best to put out a great, likeable image, smiling for the cameras and rendering warm and fuzzy soundbites to fill the spoons of the media hungry masses. Then they mess up. They say something stupid, smack someone who pisses them off, run from a cop, wear something that Joan Rivers finds objectionable to one of the many fine awards ceremonies or just simply don't smile and dance for the papparazzi.
Their stock goes south. The feeding frenzy ensues and soon they're no longer the darling they once were, they're walking targets. This is not a bad thing. I personally find it just as gratifying as the next person to see the mighty fall, especially when the mighty are spoiled trust fund babies or vapid, racist politicians. Here's my question:
Do you ever get the feeling that some of these poor, unfortunate souls get addicted to the bad press? Is it that far of a cognitive leap to surmise that once bitten, a celebrity or public figure will then take the bad publicity like a drug and seek to follow the dark path to the 'worst dressed' list or even Oprah's blacklist?
I defer to the psychobabbling brainpans who figured out that attention is attention, good or bad. I don't want to make generalizations, but if you just look at the decision making processes of several of our most revered personalities, it's really hard to believe that ANYONE could be so moronic.
Just thinking. My apologies, won't happen again. Much.
So here I am once again, no real thoughts in my head, sitting on the couch, wondering where the day went.
Oh, wait, thought of something to say.
I like Joss Whedon's writing. I've been watching episodes of the sadly cancelled show "Firefly" lately, as I enjoyed the movie "Serenity" very much.
Joss can be taken as campy and even cheesy sometimes, but man is his dialog great. If I could come up with conversation like that found in any of his shows or movies, I'd either be a writer or really really good with the ladies. As I'm neither I'll just say that I appreciate that there is still someone in Hollywood who knows how to write a great story and I hope he is both successful and eternally unaffected by the poisonous thought processes of the Hollywod elite.
Oop, well now I've done it, that was my last coherent thought.
Palm Sunday is tomorrow and I hope to think better thoughts and be a better person.
I know, never stop dreaming.
Be good people, even if you don't believe in God, it doesn't mean he's not watching.
Captain.
Their stock goes south. The feeding frenzy ensues and soon they're no longer the darling they once were, they're walking targets. This is not a bad thing. I personally find it just as gratifying as the next person to see the mighty fall, especially when the mighty are spoiled trust fund babies or vapid, racist politicians. Here's my question:
Do you ever get the feeling that some of these poor, unfortunate souls get addicted to the bad press? Is it that far of a cognitive leap to surmise that once bitten, a celebrity or public figure will then take the bad publicity like a drug and seek to follow the dark path to the 'worst dressed' list or even Oprah's blacklist?
I defer to the psychobabbling brainpans who figured out that attention is attention, good or bad. I don't want to make generalizations, but if you just look at the decision making processes of several of our most revered personalities, it's really hard to believe that ANYONE could be so moronic.
Just thinking. My apologies, won't happen again. Much.
So here I am once again, no real thoughts in my head, sitting on the couch, wondering where the day went.
Oh, wait, thought of something to say.
I like Joss Whedon's writing. I've been watching episodes of the sadly cancelled show "Firefly" lately, as I enjoyed the movie "Serenity" very much.
Joss can be taken as campy and even cheesy sometimes, but man is his dialog great. If I could come up with conversation like that found in any of his shows or movies, I'd either be a writer or really really good with the ladies. As I'm neither I'll just say that I appreciate that there is still someone in Hollywood who knows how to write a great story and I hope he is both successful and eternally unaffected by the poisonous thought processes of the Hollywod elite.
Oop, well now I've done it, that was my last coherent thought.
Palm Sunday is tomorrow and I hope to think better thoughts and be a better person.
I know, never stop dreaming.
Be good people, even if you don't believe in God, it doesn't mean he's not watching.
Captain.
06 April 2006
Darwin
For those that don't think Darwin isn't still with us in some capacity...
Read this story & shake your head.
Read this story & shake your head.
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