Hey gang, I'm sorry about the weeks with no contact, but reality was making severe demands on my time. I can't go into specifics,  it's too personal. On another subject,  don't ever get caught with harmless adult toys in northwest Florida. Even if you've pulled over and stopped the car, it doesn't matter to those prudes, but I digress.

I'm planning on a major re-write of "A Minor Blues". The through-composed method I used was fun, but now I want to tighten up the narrative; I need to eliminate some plot threads that went nowhere. And some of the writing in the early chapters makes me cringe. In the meantime, I'm working on a new Jack Moonlight short story. Hopefully, it will be online in a few days.

I transferred to my new boat yesterday; it is a little roomier than the Chelsea, and a lot more powerful; 1500 HP vs. the Chelsea's 1000. Ten minutes before I was to go on my 1st watch, a boat's lead barge collided with our  lead barge in the Mississippi River. We sustained very little damage, a minor dent in the steel on one corner of the barge. The other guy's barge  took the biggest hit, as it rode slightly under ours. A piping system on the deck of their barge was damaged, and I think one tank was punctured, above the product line, thank goodness. The Coast Guard was efficient, and we were allowed to lock and proceed east almost immediately.

That's all I have to show for my two week's absence. I'll be reading and catching up on everyone's blogs soon. Take care!

Freedom

Who doesn't want freedom, if not for others, at least for themselves? Okay, you want it, now define it.

Defining what freedom meant to each of us was the challenge issued by, black3actual, a friendly antagonist in another forum. He is a little frustrated because the only person to answer him was a high school student who used the word free in his definition, which B3 calls circular reasoning, and rejected it. Picky, picky. Now where's that gauntlet?

First, let us ponder some definitions of the word by various neo-classic philosophers:

Mick Jagger- "..to do what I want, any old time."

The Who- "Freedom tastes of reality"

Jimi Hendrix- "You're messin' around with my life
                          So I bought my lead
                         You even mess with my children
                         And you're screamin' at my wife, baby
                         Get off my back,
                         If you wanna get outta here alive- Free-dom
                        Free-eedom....               

George Michael- "All we have to see
                              Is that I don't belong to you
                             And you don't belong to me yea yea

Kris Kristofferson- "Freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose."

Akon- "Everything I have, everything I own
            All my mistakes man, you already know
             I wanna be free, I wanna be free
             So I search to find my(find my)..
           ..Freedom, Freedom, Freedom, Freedom

Well, that was helpful.  

Supreme Court Justice Potter Stewart- "I know it when I see it"

Okay, Justice Stewart was talking about pornography, but he may as well have been speaking to my dilemma.

I suppose I must resort to the old-fashioned dictionary: 

We are in the middle of the Mississippi Sounds, and I have yet to see so much as a tarball out here. The Spill Responders are doing a great job keeping the oil out in the Gulf. As near as I can figure from listening to boats and choppers on the VHF, planes and helicopters spot a patch of oil, a boat is sent out to confirm and estimate the size, and then skimmers and/or booms are sent out to corral or capture the oil. A spill-specific lexicon of sorts is already growing as a result the operations. I have heard oil that washes over the booms as a result of wave action referred to as 'jumping out' of the boom. the oil has been referred to, depending on the consistency, as 'pudding', 'jelly', 'fudge', or the all-inclusive 's%#t'.

A barge loaded with boom heads out to the Gulf from Pascagoula, Mississippi

See the boats lined up behind the barge? They are working for BP, who makes them top off with fuel every morning before work, whether they need to or not. There were 40-50  boats waiting to take fuel the morning I took this shot, and only two pumps to service them. Their day didn't start until ALL the boats were ready. Pretty inefficient, from a layman's point of view.

One of the entrepreneurs, coming in from the Gulf. Notice the Haz-Mat suits they are wearing.

...and then the Mystery Blimp! appeared. It was on a course that would take it to the source of the gusher

Luckily, we appeared to their tail-gunner to be harmless, simple boat-trash 

I couldn't  make out any markings on the cabin, but there were 'dealer tags' in the rear window.

 Mark and Huck 2010. These guys are braving the ships and barges of the Mighty Muddy...

 The one in the lead looks slap wore out. I like the name of the boat, does it refer to booze or boo? You decide!

*Joiwinds did some research and found out that it is a US Navy Blimp, and is being employed as an oil spotter. It can descend lower than a plane to check out oil slicks, and is cheaper to run than a chopper or plane.

 A Swiss judge  has spoken. Roman Polanski is free, he won't be extradited to the US for having sex with a 12 year-old girl, whom he drugged and took anally. Gotta love the Swiss; Jews they took a pass on helping, and 'acquired Jewish property when the owners were gassed in the German camps. But they courageously defended a man  facing jail time for screwing a child, charges which Polanski has bravely avoided for 30 years.

Now Switzerland's tourism industry needs a new marketing slogan, and I have stepped into the breach in order to offer my suggestions, which are listed below....

Switzerland--We Protected Nazis, So Why Not Child-Abusers?

                        -- Tall Mountains, Short Eyes

                         -- Want Some Candy? We Have The Most Enticing Chocolate

                         --Come to Avoid Prosecution, Stay For The Skiing

                        --A Million Rocks To Hide Under

                        --We'll Turn Our Conscience Off For You

                        -- We May Speak 3 Languages, But We Listen To Money

A song by Krista Branch, "I Am America" is being touted as the anthem of the Tea Party crowd. It's a nice song, but fairly bland. Also, it fails to get at the meat of the average Tea-Partiers anger and fear. I think my song would better reflect the mind-set of your average holder of an Obama-as-witch-doctor sign......

Mamas, Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up Multicultural*

(intro)

Our kids dress like Negroes and dance to their rhythms
Mexicans sneak in and take our jobs back home with'em.
Canada's health care and climate ain't all that hot,
They're almost French anyway
Old Europe 's gone communist, I hear Asia's about bought us
And Cubans just seem kinda gay.

Mothers, don't let your babies grow up multi-cultural
teach'em that all Muslims are blowin' up trucks
tell'em ev'ry religion but ours really sucks.
Mothers, don't let your babies grow up multi-cultural
They need home schoolin' so they won't be foolin'
with any foreign-type ways.

You know, over there they eat food that's lain for days in the dirt,
gobble up bugs and grubs, always wearin' the same ol' shirt
Tell your children beware of the World's met-eric system, 
don't let'em take any second languages lessons.
If an Aussie has something to say, he has to tell us in English
But we don't listen to them anyway

Mamas, don't let your babies grow up thinkin' global
Don't worry about the opinions of other nations,
We have the nukes to ensure their annihilation.
Mamas, don't let your babies grow up multicultural
'cause only by acting as if no one's our equal
can we justify our own ignorant ways.  

*Sung to the tune of "Mamas, Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up To Be Cowboys", by Willie Nelson

The spill has created a need for boats along the Gulf, I suspect this boat came from Pittsburgh
because work is slow up that way. They will cut prices to get work, which will put downward
pressure on wages. But she's a fine old gal, 80 feet long, 146 tons, built in 1957.

 
I found a passion fruit vine on the way home from work Thursday. This is one of my favorite flowers.

My old friend George invited me along on a ride to Shell Island today. We checked out the spill response preparations in St Andrew's Bay, then went to his secret camp on Shell Island. It was too rough for me to break out my camera when we were underway, but I got some pictures on the Island's north side, where I have rarely visited.

On the way back to the dock, we crossed paths with some para-sailors......

All fun things come to an end; around three, we pulled into the dock where George keeps his Bayliner

We flushed the engine, tied the boat down real good, and called it a day.

Well, 2010 has certainly been one for the almanacs, hasn't it?

JANUARY
The new Year took us all by surprise; President Obama had to interrupt his vacation in Hawaii, his other birthplace, when he was reminded that the State of the Union speech was due that night. Alert Secret Service agents, on Rahm Emmanuel's orders, hustled the Pres into Air Force Two (Rahm needed the bigger AF-one to schmooze some bankers whose bonuses were, tragically, no bigger than last year's).

Not having time to prepare a speech, Obama winged it, and he did pretty good. Oh, there a few gaffes. He criticized the Supremes for their decision in the "Clintons United" case. But when he began to hammer Diana Ross about her treatment of former Supreme Florence Ballard, Speaker Nancy Pelosi whispered in his ear. He then went on to tout his stimulus package, and cited the number of jobs it would begin creating, in 2014. If all went well. As he spoke, 3 manufacturing plants in Chicago closed their doors for good.
Of course, 2010 will be remembered in the Gulf region, long after the year has passed; for an event that changed many lives, that changed the way the nation looked at the Gulf region of our great land. Yes, all eyes were glued to their sets, watching something so unbelievably preposterous, something that experts said might never happen, yet something the people of Louisiana knew was inevitable. THE SAINTS WON THE SUPER BOWL!!

And there was an earthquake in Haiti, 200,000 people are feared dead, many more homeless.

Meanwhile, off shore, a panel of oil company safety experts were figuring out how to downsize their department.

February...
The Winter Olympics started after a delay. It seems there wasn't enough snow on the ground; in Canada! In February! It seemed plenty cold to me, as I was watching the snow boarders practice, and I could see their breath condensing in the air, like puffs of white smoke. Then they'd go behind the snack wagon, and come out puffing white clouds again. It sure had to be cold back there!
We won 8 gold medals, less than Germany and Canada, but we won more bronze medals than both of those posers put together. USA Rocks!
After the ceremonies, Rahm Emmanuel, with the assistance of IRS agents, convinced the gold-medal winners to 'trade' their gold medals for bronze, as bonus-time was coming up on Wall Street, and the bankers wanted something more secure than the American dollar they had trashed while earning their bonuses.

Meanwhile, off shore, a federal safety inspector was safely inspecting the two 'assistants', Fiona and Lucia, hired by BP to show him their comprehensive safety plan.

An earthquake in Chile killed 500 people and triggered a tsunami that killed many more

March
Not much happened. A zillion taxpayer dollars did disappear down a rathole, but the mints hired a third shift, and the shortfall was made up by market opening the following Monday. Actually, they outsourced the contract to a company in Myanmar. I regret the error.

April
Flights were delayed across Europe as a cloud of ash spread throughout the skies. Scientists traced the source of the smoke and ash back to Iceland, where the International Snowboarder's Convention was being held.
Meanwhile, offshore, some dumb sumbich pretended to conduct a safety test on a piece of equipment that is the last line of defense in case of a well blow-out. "What could possibly hap...wow! Look at those dials spin!" Were his last words. He didn't die; BP ordered him to keep his yap shut or his family would.
At a press conference about the disaster, celebrity spokesperson John Fogerty explained in detail. "Things got bad, then things got worse, guess you know the tune.....

"It's not so bad.", BP spokesman Tony "play-it-down' Heyward said. "The leak is minscule, maybe no worse than a drippy faucet, eh wot?" When reporters pointed at the live feed from the camera at the leak site and opined that it looked bigger than that, much bigger, Tony responded, "It's a real tee-tiny little camera, makes everything look bigger. We plan on installing the world's largest camera down there, so it will look small. Which it is, the leak, more of a seep, really. Can I get a spot of tea here?"

an earthquake in China kills over 2000 people

May
BP spokesman Tony 'what's a commoner?' Heyward admits that the leak is slightly worse than previously reported. "Look, just because we drill for oil, and we pump it to the surface and fill ships with the stuff, and we get paid by the barrel, you don't expect us to know how much oil is coming out of a pipe, do you? Really now."
The truth came out when a snowboarder looked at the camera, then remembered the snow-making machinery, and the pipe from which the artificial snow emitted. They were roughly the same size. He did some quick calculations(drop-out, math department, U of Manitoba), and then got the munchies and biked over to Burger King. A reporter found the paperwork, and BP was caught in a lie. The seep was in the range of 60-100,000 barrels a day. That's a supertanker full leaking into the Gulf every week or so. Put in layman's terms, that is just about the amount needed by Al Sharpton to maintain his 'do'.

June
President Obama says he no longer trusts BP very much. "But we have to work with them. No one else knows how to stop this leak, how to clean up the mess, nor how to collect the oil from the water." When a reporter asked if BP knows so much, why is there still 100000+ barrels (latest estimate, stay tuned) spilling into the Gulf. Obama switched subjects. "Hey, have you reporters heard the news? Guantanamo prison is staying open, and there are lots of empty cells. Are there any other questions?"


"I see earthquakes and lightnin'. I know the end is coming soon"-John Fogerty

*sexually-themed diversions

Announcer: Well folks, it's that day of the week and, according to my watch, that time of day. That time of day when we once again bring you that hard-hitting, consumer-oriented half hour....

So You Think This Is A Real Show?

(Applause from audience, 13 people who were induced to participate with the promise of a free Grand Slam at Denny's.)

Announcer: And now, the host of  the show, consumer advocate, professor emeritus at four or more universities, winner of the prestigious 'Innie' award from the National Academy of Late-Night Infomercial Presenters and Producers, Mr. Silver Tongue three years in a row, the man with the plan, and the sun-bronzed tan, Dr. Wes Youngman!

(The crowd goes crazy until the 'GO CRAZY' light is turned off. Camera two focuses on a couple in a mock-up of a suburban kitchen. The man is six-foot six, head full of gorgeous white hair, and has the body of a Marine. His partner is a bubbly blonde with a smile permanently plastered on her face.)

Wes: Wow! What an excited, hopped-up crowd, Sandy!

Sandy: Yes, Wes. Maybe they saw last week's show, when I shucked your cob for you.

(A gasp from the crowd, then a shout)

Crowd member: Hey! My kids are here!

Wes: And if they had been here last week, your adorable kids, along with every other member of the audience, would have received a free Rinki Corn-Cob Shucker™. That was an exciting show, especially your 'made like a Hoover' segment.

Sandy: Believe me, I enjoyed Hoovering it while you drove as much as you did, maybe more.

(murmers in crowd, the same guy shouts again)

Same Guy: I thought this was a family show...

Wes: And it is. What family wouldn't want a Dinky Mitey-Suck™? The miniature car vacuum cleaner that is made like a Hoover, but sells for half the price?

Same Guy: Oh...but don't you guys know what that mea...

Wes: So, Sandy. What is on your mind this week?

Sandy: Wes, I thought I might toss your salad for you.

Wes: That would be great, Sandy! (looks to the off-screen audience) Who wants to watch Sandy toss my salad? Sandy, get behind me here, and I'll tell you how I like my salad tossed.

Sandy: Glad to, Boss!

(same guy stands up, takes his kids' hands, and starts for the side of the stage)

Wes: Don't go before we pass out these neat Hinky Salad Tossers™!

Sandy: That's right, Wes. Now, housewives, you can toss your husband's salad while talking to your Mother on the phone. And with the twin speed and duration controls, you can tailor the tossing to please your man, and he can do the same for you. Just look at that salad go, Wes!

Wes: This item is really creating quite a sensation, Sandy.

Sandy: I know, Wes. Just the other day, I heard my daughter and her boyfriend talk about getting their salads tossed. And to think, last year, I couldn't even get her to eat spinach!

Wes: How quickly they grow up.

Sandy: Wes, now that I've tossed your salad, how about a French kiss?

Audience members: Eeuwwww...

Wes: Sandy, you deserve not one, but two French Kisses. (Wes reaches into his shirt pocket, pulls out two silver shiny objects.) Made like the American kisses, by the finest French Chocolatiers.

Sandy: (eats one of the chocolates, her eyes roll back in her head) I love French Kisses™! Don't we have one more item on our little agenda, Wes?

Wes: As a matter of fact, we do. Sandy, I undertand you are planning to drive to the other side of town to get your pussy stuffed?

Sandy: Word does get around doesn't it? Yes, it's true. I hate going that far, but my poor old pussy needs stuffing, and there are men across the tracks, rough men, but they know how to do it right.

(Audience members mutter and shake their heads): "Freaking clueless"..."what planet...?"...."I'm outta here, this crap is junk, anyway"....

Wes: Now you don't have to, Sandy. You can stuff poor old Whiskers in the comfort of your own home with Bunko's new Home Taxidermy Kit™.

Sandy: And I can pose him in any position I want...

Wes: And with the optional artificial joint kit, a mere39.95plus 3.95S&Hin12easypaymentsof19.95amonth, you can change the position at anytime with a screwdriver! 

Sandy(trying out the screwdriver on a knee-joint from the kit): Could you give me a good screw, Wes?

Wes: The only kind I give, Sandy. Well, we've about run out of time, people...people? Well, I guess they all ran out to try the fantastic products we tested today. Silly folks, they woulda got a free disposable camera along with the Denny's breakfast, if they had stayed to the end....

Sandy: And I was going to give them all a golden shower....

Wes: Too bad, I guess next week's audience will get a Golden Shower™, the garden hose that tells you where to put it....(closing music starts and credits roll)

I heard the Coast Guard on the radio yesterday, talking about a big patch of oil just off the coast of Dauphin Island, and I think I saw a sheen in the water earlier today, near Pass Christian, Mississippi. But so far, the Sounds are looking pretty good.

We picked up our tow at Cooper Fleet, which is just north of the Mobile Harbor.
 Here, one sees scenes like this...
 
I probably could have photographed a gator or two, had I not been so busy.

Travel a mile south, and you start seeing sights like this....

This boat is fairly new. I can tell, because there are no dings in the hull yet.

 The Deepwater Pathfinder, owned by the same company, Transocean, which owns the rig that exploded

This ship, berthed at Pinto Island,  at the mouth of the harbor, was an anchored derelict, used for fire training. I'm not sure what research goes on aboard her, but it is a rare case of the military saving money by re-purposing old equipment, so waterboard away, cost-conscious research guys.

Mobile Bay is essentially a sand-box, and the Ship Channel would fill in in no time were the Glenn Edwards and ships like it not used to scoop up the loose sand, maintainingthe depth at 40 or so feet. The Ship fills up with a slurry of sand and water, which it then takes offshore. The ship's hull is in two parts, and it opens up to dump the load, after which it returns to the Ship Channel and fills up again.

This photo represents humankind's aspirations to rival the heavens. Actually, I just like tall things.

This is part of a miles-long array of booms and pilings that will hopefully prevent BP's oil from fouling the marshes behind it.

We were simultaneously losing drinking water and taking on water in our stern ballast tanks, but the affected tanks are not adjacent to one another. The only way to find and repair the leaks is to lift the boat entirely out of the water, which was done this morning. We might be here all night. I have my fingers crossed.

 6 a.m.--waiting for the shipyard guys to lower the dydock

 An old crab-cleaning and oyster-shucking plant in The Harvey Canal. It has been abandoned for decades

See those rectangles under the ladder? Those are keel-coolers, a heat-exchanging system that keeps
the engines cool. Turns out that the system was leaking our fresh water into one of the stern ballast
tanks. The other ballast tank had a hole in the underside of the boat. Both are already repaired, but..

...One of the wheels is loose, and it has damaged the threads which hold it onto the shaft. Both the
shaft and the wheel have to be pulled off  for re-working. I need to go now, I have to make sure
that the work is getting done. My colleague Uncle Bud is here to finish today's blog.....

 
What're you people looking at? Expecting more? Look, here's how much more there is... Zip! Now g'wan, git!

I was walking with my Dad in a mall in South Florida. This was my first visit with him since he had almost died from cirrhosis. After Mom died, he had tried suicide by the bottle. Now he was thin as a rail, but otherwise well, and he had quit drinking. So we are walking along, and out of a store ahead of us comes two stunning young gals, who turn and start walking ahead of us. Both had long legs and were wearing terry-cloth shorts that came out of nowhere and stopped very suddenly.

I told my Dad, "There is something about terry-cloth shorts that I find really appealing."

"I like the sound they make when they hit the floor." he replies.

________________________________

Another visit to see Pater, this time the setting is Aripeka, a small fishing town on the Gulf Coast north of St. Pete. Dad is showing us the local attractions. We are driving along, and I marvel at the number of construction sites we are driving by.

"There's been a building boom, for sure." Dad says as he turns onto a side road that leads past a row of small houses. Ahead of us, walking in our direction on the side of the road, was a young couple. The girl was dressed in a skimpy pair of cut-offs and what looked like the guy's shirt, as he was bare-chested. They were arm-in-arm; as lovers will often do, they were walking as close together as possible without tripping each other.

"Even in areas like this, new places are going up."  Dad says, then he points at the girl as we pass her by. "That was recently made."

________________________________

Mom and I were sitting in one of the booths in Grant's instore diner. Grant's was a department store chain in the South decades ago. They are defunct now. There was also a hot dog stand in the middle of the store that had buns without crust that were browned with butter on the grill. Add in the pet department, with its three types of monkeys, parrots and macaws, and you had a low-rent amusement park.

But I wasn't in the mood to hassle the rhesus monkey. The night before, the folks had hosted a party, featuring booze and loud, obnoxious assholes that worked with my Dad. One or two were still there in the morning, sleeping it off in our living room. The whole house reeked of alcohol sweat, and evidence of the bacchnalia was everywhere. I had been unable to sleep, and was in a rotten mood.

I was 15, and very self-righteous. I was determined to never drink, never take drugs, and abstain from pre-marital sex. I stayed more faithful to the sex part of the oath, although not by choice.  But I digress.

Anyway, I was mad and disgusted with my parents' night of drunken fun. However, when Mom asked me to lunch, I agreed to go. So there we are, I am eating the BLT, Mom is working on her favorite, the grilled cheese.

"Are you still mad about last night? she asks me.

Yeah, a little. I just don't understand why you all do it. I mean, it doesn't look fun to me, with the hangovers and all"

So Mom says. "We drink to show you how bad liquor is for you, and hope that you avoid following our example."

Then she looks at me with a straight face, timing it perfectly with my taking a big bite of the BLT. "You don't think we enjoy it, do you?"

Bacon and tomato sprayed all over my plate when I started laughing. That made Mother laugh. People at other tables looked at us with wonder and scowls, which made us laugh harder. We were still giggling when we paid and left.

___________________________________

I'm in the back seat, riding to town with Mom and Dad, and on the radio a public service ad from the Salvation Army or some similar organization comes on. "Are you an alcoholic? Is someone in your family an alcoholic or dealing with an alcoholic? Is alcohol ruining your life and destroying your fami..." On and on goes the narrator. Dad is rolling his eyes, about ready to change the station. "Has alcohol caused your money troubles? Call us. Please don..."

Right then, Dad punched the station preset button, cutting off the speaker. "What do they do? Give drunks discounts on bottles?"

Free advice dispensed freely, just

LEMMY TELYA

Dear Lemmy.

Can you settle an argument I am having with a friend? He says that a Romulan Centurion is equal in rank to a Vulcan Subaltern. I say no way, a Romulan delegation would be insulted if a Subaltern was sent to negotiate a cease-fire with a Centurion, as if they were equals. What do you say, honorary Galaxy District 9 Magistrate?

                                                                Trekkie to the core

Dear Trekkie,

You are both still virgins, aren't you?

---------------------------------------

Dear Lemmy,

I am depressed and tired. I could barely muster the strength to get out of bed and write this letter. I see no sense in living anymore, no reason to go on. Is there anyone who can help me, any organizations that I can contact?

                                         Desperately numb to it all

Dear Desperate,

Yeah, probably

Dear Lemmy,

I hear you're pretty smart, maybe you can help me. I have evidence against several well-placed individuals, and need protection from any seeking revenge or to squelch my testimony. Trouble is the figures I have dirt on know about my intentions. These individuals are in law enforcement, and I fear that I cannot trust the police to keep me safe. I don't know where to turn. Any advice?

                                                    Tentative testifier

Dear Tentative,

Are you the same Grady Rodgers that played left tackle at Siever's High? How's your wife, Dora? Is your boy Henry still in that prep school up in Cleveland? Thanks for the compliment, but your parents are both smarter, you should drive over to Greenville and talk to them.

Dear Dr. Telya,

I am worried about by Mom. Sometimes she is okay, other times she looks at me as if she doesn't know who I am, or she talks about me as if I am somebody else. Last week, I found her two blocks from home, trying to get into a house that she believed was ours. She does nothing but watch TV all day, even when it is not turned on. Dr. Telya, just what is wrong with her, and what can I do for her?

                                                                 Worried Son in Dayton,

Dear Worried Son,

Please, call me Lemmy.

--------------------------------------------

Dr. Lemuel 'Lemmy' Telya, is a board-certified practicing professional. Do what he tells you to do.

81 paving blocks(18" x 18", 47 pounds apiece) later, and I am finished.....with Phase One. Next comes trails leading to the shed and around the azalea bushes, but the material for those projects has yet to be decided upon. Trees provide shade except for about three hours at midday, and the fan makes even that time tolerable. The inaugural cook-out was a rousing success, but I was too busy blackening turkey dogs to take pictures.

 
Memonah, Msk and myself, making an appearance for the masses

 
Hello, you masses, you

Thick trumpet vines wind their way up to the top of this 60-foot+ tree

This is Miles, newly coronated yard kitty. He adopted us for reasons unknown, but we are glad he did.

Don't call the animal abuse hotline; Miles pulled those ears back all by his lonesome

We hope it's just a rebellious phase he's going through

 It's called still-hunting. Now go away!

I took these photos In Mobile Bay on the same day that oil first hit Dauphin Island

Good luck, fellas

That Darned Cat
The Cat Under the Hat

Untitled 

Is that a cat, asleep under my hat?
How is it a cat can curl up like that?
Is it rubber or bone in that kitty's back?
And just which cat is that under my hat?

It couldn't be Cuddles, he's in kitty jail,
And certainly not Simba, for he lacks a tail.
Surely, Curly doesn't slumber under that hat
Surly old Curly has too much dignity, and fat.

It's Boots, the new cat. Either he's shy,
or he thought a topper made him look fly.
It does look dashing, I remark with a grin,
I like that downwardly dapper dip of the brim.

Bring the camera, Hon, make sure the film's in
Don't wake up now, Boots, keep on dreaming
and flicking that tail first this way, then that;
the rest of you, keep sleeping under that hat.

From under the hat came a loud crunching
the sound of cat on once-living lunch munching
Under uplifted hat, Boots was eating a rat
Blast and Drat! Now I need to get a new hat. 
Do you think I might trade a hat for a cat?

---------------------------------

The Obamas hosted a party for Paul McCartney the other night....

Meanwhile, back at the Gulf....

800 dead animals have been found so far.
 My guess is that 75-80% of carcasses will never be found.
You simply must try the swedish meatballs, Mr. President.

As clueless as this photo-op seems, we could have a lot worse in the Oval Office.. 

Headline: Sarah Palin Blames Environmentalists For Oil Leak

"...your protests and lawsuits and lies about onshore and shallow water drilling have locked up safer areas. It's catching up with you. The tragic, unprecedented deep water Gulf oil spill proves it."

Wait!
There's more!

''They are also building schools for the Afghan children so that there is hope and opportunity in our neighboring country of Afghanistan.''

And then this guy removes all doubt that he is fringe-worthy....

"I think it's part of this sort of blame game society in the sense that it's always got to be someone's fault
 instead of the fact that sometimes accidents happen." --Rand Paul, TeaBag Party candidate for the US Senate from Kentucky

Remember, he is talking about a safety device that had not been properly tested by a company that saved a half-mil by not installing a back-up on a well for which there is no proven method of capping a blow-out. Rand, you are an accident, no matter what Daddy says; this is gross negligence.

"Spare a thought for the stay-at-home voter
His empty eyes gaze at strange beauty shows
And a parade of the gray suited grafters
A choice of cancer or polio."
Jagger-Richards