2010- The Year That Will Be

I usually do a look-back at the year that has-been, but 2009 was pretty dismal, and I hate doing all the research. Looking forward is a lot easier.....

January

President Obama sells the White House!

 Having stayed in Hawaii with his family for the Holidays, President Barack Obama proved he is the 'change President' by selling the White House and using the proceeds to buy their vacation home on the island of Oahu.

"It makes sense," said Obama in sensible voice. "I am, after all, the first Hawaiian President." When queried about the cost of the move, and the expense of traveling back and forth to the nation's capital, Obama answered, "The pharmaceutical industry has generously offered to underwrite the trips, as has the banking industry, the health insurance companies, the credit card companies...."

The new owner of the White House, Donald Trump, said he plans to do a little re-modeling. "Knock down a few walls, put some neon lights over the front entrance, get rid of all those musty old paintings, hang some Chagalls and DeKoonings. And no more of those silly Easter Egg Rolls. I sleep in on Easter, and I hate kids."

Meanwhile, Congress is still 'reconciling' the House and Senate  versions of the Omnibus Health Care bill. In a strongly worded statement, House Speaker Nancy Pelosi states that "there will be a public option in the final bill, or not. Let's just pass something. I'm sick and tired of this crap." The conferencing and horse-trading continue into ...

February

.....when Joseph Lieberman is finally convinced to vote for health care reform, after getting his way on a death panel clause to be included in the final bill. Upon learning that the death panel will consist of health insurance executives, several Republicans express support of the bill. "After all," says Kentucky Senator  and Minority Leader Mitch McConnell, "Who better to make life-and-death decisions, government bureaucrats, or those whose profits are  directly affected by those self-same decisions?" McConnell pauses in his remarks as he opens his mouth to catch a Hershey's kiss tossed to him by an insurance lobbyist .

The President's address to both houses of Congress is a day late, as the President's plane is delayed by an out-of-season typhoon. Senator James Inhofe of Oklahoma pulls his head out of the sand long enough to accuse the President of 'concocting' the storm in a desperate attempt to prove the Earth is indeed warming up. Wiping the sweat from his brow, the Senator exclaims "Can someone turn down the thermostat a bit? Whaddya mean, the air conditioning is on? Doesn't prove a thing. "

"You're a liar!", Shouts Rep. Joe Wilson (R-SC) at the State of the Union Address, only to have it pointed out that the President had yet to speak. When he does get to the podium, Obama singles out several insurance, banking, and Big Pharma executives in the audience for their "courage and sacrifice in taking bonuses only slightly higher than the year before." "You're a liar!", shouts Rep Dennis Kucinich (Dem-Ohio), who is immediately wrestled to the ground by Secret Service agents and renditioned to an undisclosed location.

Most republicans, however, are still united in their opposition to anything Obama, and in....

March

....they release a statement concerning the President's rightward shift. "We know what he's up to, trying to be more reactionary and right-wing than we ever dreamed of being. It's a plot to win more democrat-socialist seats come November. Then he will reveal himself for the commie that he is." After reading the statement, Joseph Lieberman hops on a Pfizer Corporation jet to Hawaii for a private luau with the President on the lanai overlooking Kailua Beach. Following a tasty dinner of grilled mahi-mahi, roast pork, fried plantains, and white asparagus tips sauteéd in wine sauce, The President holds a press conference in which he assures the  unemployed Americans, now numbering 20%, that the stimulus money should start creating jobs real soon. "In the meantime," said the President between belches, "I suggest that those of you who are growing impatient, if you still have your houses, start growing your own vegetables instead. Now excuse me, dessert is ready."

On the international front, President Kharzai of Afghanistan seeks to bring the Taliban into ceasefire talks by becoming more of a hard-line, intolerant Muslim himself. To this end he publicly and personally beheads a woman for daring to wax her unibrow.

A group of Chinese astronomers announce that a large asteroid, 2 miles in diameter, will miss the Earth sometime around 8. a.m., December 19th of this year. "Eastern time, Central time , Greewich time, it doesn't matter. Just enjoy your lives, live them to the fullest, max out your credit cards, and have fun." Said Li Ping, the head of the group, from a Buddhist temple in Thailand to which they all defected.

(to be concluded)

This is a great story about a great song

Happy New Year, Everybody!

No contest, really. The winner, without further ado, is my wife, known to Xangans as Joiwinds.  She has been my rock, my safe haven. She has been nurse, doctor, and when necessary, drill sergeant. She would come see me every morning in the hospital, leave for lunch and to walk our puppies, then come back in the afternoon. When I was recuperating from any of several catheterizations, she would hold the straw to my mouth so I could drink without lifting my head from the pillow, a serious no-no for six to eight hours after each procedure. She fluffed my pillows, bathed me, spoon-fed me, and just plain loved me. It was so comforting the several times I fell asleep to find her smiling at me when I awoke. I know she would have stayed with me 24/7, but I made her go home and get some rest.

Somehow, she also found the time to take care of her Aunt Margie, who is in a nursing home, take our Iraqi friends to the grocery store and to doctor's appointments, and keep the house immaculate upon my return. On coming home, she joined me in the dietary regimen to which I am now confined, and would not let me so much as take out the garbage. She is better versed at what pills I need to take, and when, than I.

Sweetheart, I hope you know how much your love and care means to me, and how much it helped get through this ordeal. I had no chance to buy you a present for Christmas, but your words to me on that subject were the greatest present I could hope for. You told me that living was the best thing I could have given you, and I believe you. I cannot ever hope to match your selflessness and devotion, for you have set the bar too high. All I can do is stay well so that I can be as supportive of you as you have been of me. I will always be there in your time of need. I love you so much

Batem, Cheatham, and Hyde,
         The Image People

from the desk of Louis DeCrusse; VP, Image Reformation Dept.

to: all members of the Board of Directors on the Project Progress Committee

Sirs:

As you well know, we in Image Reformation are ready to take on any task assigned to us by you or the Board of Directors. Obviously, some clients require us to set aside personal feelings and concentrate on the makeover process to a greater degree than others. This case has been particularly challenging, but on the postive side, the frank and honest discussions during the preliminary meetings allowed me to identify and isolate those members of the team who still have moral qualms about the matter at hand. Integrating the new members into the team has gone well, better than expected, as a matter of fact. It is my suggestion that we seek more ex-congresspersons, no matter the reason for their desire to change professions.

Anyway, here is the early summation of our efforts, new-clientwise. Internationally, the client tests better than he does with domestic audiences . The team concurs that we move slowly and deliberately in the North American market, as the negatives are slow to recede. In light of our success with the Newt Gingrich brand, and of course our re-branding of former president Nixon as a statesman rather than a petty crook, I believe that ultimately we will win over the consumer. That said, I will now recount our progress, which has been initially impressive considering the strong feelings expressed in earlier name recognition polls.

Our client was more than willing to pay heed to our advice, and is honestly eager to cash in on his notoriety, turning it from liability to asset. Our first suggestion was to bolster his ratings among children, with whom he seems to wholeheartedly enjoy interacting:

We suggested that he put in appearances at sports events, so as to blunt his negative political numbers, and to enhance his appeal to the common man. This proposal he also readily agreed to:

And, talk about a gimme, he is ecstatic about at least one product that desperately needs a celebrity spokesperson:

This is, of course, a first run-through on what we expect to be a challenging project. I predict a presentation will be ready on or before the 31st of next month. As always, we welcome and appreciate any advice or suggestions that the Committee might have.

Yours,

Lou DeCrusse

P.S. The team is unanimous on one point; that we avoid, for the time being, any client exposure in the Greater New York area.

  I have tried to find out the story behind this house in New Orleans' 9th ward,
so far to no avail. It has some pretty iron grillwork between the posts seen here

Our  mighty hunter, Rocky, giving me a cat scan.

A Snowy Egret, fishing in a retention pond at the local sewage treament facility. The water is fairly clean by
this point, and is further filtered through a swamp before draining into a bayou

Sinister Duck

 Amanita muscaria, or the Fly Agaric, a hallucinogenic mushroom that is quite
common around here.

I usually do a Year In Review this time of year, but health-related issues have impacted on my time and detached bemusement. So I am gonna do ten-best lists when I can think of one worthy of my readers' time. Yeah, I have two readers now.

TOP 10 ADDRESSED BEST THINGS ABOUT 2009  (that obliquely address other issues)

1)No war with Iran=============== Obama succeeds Bush as President
                                                                      instead of McCain

2)People were less materialistic====== Unemployment hit 30-year highs

3)Young boys slept easier at night===== Michael Jackson dies at age 50

4) Gritty, gripping, and compelling===== Obama continues Bush' occupation
     war movies will continue to be              of Afghanistan
     made

5) Restaurants less crowded========== see number 2

6) Trekkies and fat people can========='Jersey Shore' debuts 
     feel better about themselves

7) It is as throughout all============ Sarah Palin resigns as Governor
    Alaska that big wild                                  of Alaska
    good life teeming 
    along the road that
    is north to the future*

8) Great new euphemisms===========Gov. Sanford Says he was 'hiking
    for sex appear                                           along the Appalachian Trail'
                                                                      when in actuality he was with
                                                                       his mistress.

9) Every guitar player in the========== Les Paul dies at age of 94
     world moves up a notch

10) 2009 is almost over!==============Do this one yourselves

*actual quote from Sarah Palin's resignation speech

 Michael Steele, chairman of the Republican Party, has come under fire for making speeches at conventions and such for $20,000 a pop. And the criticism comes from his own party! Since when have Republicans been against a man earning an honest buck? And where was the outrage when Sarah Palin quit her job to do make millions on the speaking circuit? Right, she had the moral courage to resign from her elected position first, while Steele stayed in his job.

Personally, I am for anything that keeps a Republican out of government, and give props to people who can hold down two jobs at once. In fact I am happy to say that Steele has found another outlet for his entreprenurial and wealth-creating skills:

An ex-Boatman's Regrets

I watched from the shore as the tugboat went by
The pilot was smoking in my mind's eye
To the boat he was meeting I knew what he'd say.
Though he was at half a mile or better away,
I knew just what he would say.

One whistle or two, does it matter to you?
I can meet you either way
The water here's deep, we could pass in our sleep
But we'll try that on some other day

I see a man on the beach, no pole within reach
he must be looking for shells
He is probably thinking how easy we have it
That these boats can just steer themselves

I doubt he's a boatman, retired to dry land
watching us ply our trade
When my workdays end I'll trade the ocean
for a view from a mountainside glade

Like you out there, I've sat in that chair
and thought of me standing here
I thought like that before hanging my hat
I would step on the dock and never look back

Bouys and beacons, the evening sun's meetin'
the red western edge of the sea,
Mona Lisa-smile dolphins, bemused gliding pelicans
are now only memories to me

Of these things and more still I'd had my fill
I looked forward to life on the hill
No more engine noises nor friends' radio voices
Miss that? I said I never will

Here I stand, to this hard ground now bound
And I've ruefully found
It's no easy matter to give up the waters
of the bays, the lakes, and the sounds

Go on,  you young man, sail as long you can
For good health be full of thanks
Make way and make waves, horizon carefully scan
for we all end up on the bank

Look at that guy, is that a tear that I spy?
Did he just shrug and sigh?
Too late to see, he's gone over the levee
Lord, how I wish I was he
A man turning his back on the sea.

Go here to read earlier chapters

A Minor Blues, Chapter 29

Delano celebrates his latest bout of freedom, Carruthers shows his brand of mercy and conversion, and Everage woos a new sweetheart

June 9th, 1950 Augusta, Georgia

"To freedom!", Delano said and all four men clinked their bottles.
"Freedom," Mitch and Frank echoed.

"Freedom for our people, one at a time." Said Titus, earning a chorus of
laughter. It wasn't all that funny, but it was the fourth round.

After arriving back in Augusta, Delano had directed Frank to a bar that
catered to railroad workers, both white and black. That the place served
a decent hamburger saved the group the trouble of finding a similarly
tolerant diner.

Delano twisted in his seat to look around the noisy joint. He idly
noticed that that their table was the only one with an empty ashtray.
He crossed stares with a big white man sitting at the bar. Delano locked
eyes long enough to signal he wasn't intimidated, and gave a slight wave
as he turned back to his tablemates.

"Problem?" Mitch asked as he glanced towards the bar.

"Nah, just a habit." Mitch was quiet, waiting for more, something Delano had
decided was part of his being the good cop that Frank had indicated him
to be. "I once saw a man get a hole punched in his back, 'cause he wasn't on
high alert."

Mitch nodded. "That was at Cummins?"

"Nah, a hobo camp. Narvel thought a year was long enough for this old
fart we called Loopy to forget who robbed him of a coffee pot." Delano
finished his beer before saying more. "Ain't no statue of limitations on
a coffee pot."

"Statute." Mitchell Ray corrected. "Man, I want hear how you got out.
Just professional curiousity, I know you were fucked over."

"I'll tell you on the way to the studio, my new friend. I need to tell all
that old mess, get it out of my head."

"That girl you saw, brother," Frank chimed in. "She was sent to tell you
that. To quit beating yourself up about bygones."

Delano laughed. "I figured that out before the state psychiatrist did,
thank you very much. Spent two months pondering all that before I got
Hetrick to mail Titus that letter." He looked over at his oldest friend,
who was studying something over Delano's right shoulder. Delano turned
in his seat, saw the man from the bar coming to a stop next to his chair.

"You know me?" The man asked.

"I may have seen you 'round. Name's Deleon." Delano held his hand out,
only to have it slapped away. He was on his feet an instant later.
Behind him, he heard three chairs slide back as his friends stood in
unison. He motioned them to let this play out.

"Why we doing this? I ain't the first black man you seen drinking in
here, am I?"

"You ain't railroad either, big mouth. So why you wavin' at me, like we
friends and all?" Conversation at nearby tables and booths had ceased.
Two other bruisers sitting on stools were waiting for the fun to start;
Delano knew they would back up their stupid friend, and the best Delano
and his party could expect was sympathetic non-assistance from the few
blacks in the place. Well, at least this wasn't wholly a racial thing,
just testing the new patrons.

"I know you." This was from Titus, who put his arm on Delano's chest,
backing him up with quiet elder authority. The cracker looked down at
the old veteran, who returned the gaze as if they were equals in size,
height, and every other way there was to be equal.

"Leastaways, I knowed many like you. Killed a few of 'em, too, damaged
the rest."

"Old man, don't make me mad at you, too."

"You want to try me, go ahead. I ain't lettin' my friend violate parole
over the likes of you. You want to fight, you fight me. But let me put
the situation in perspective."

Delano knew that words like perspective didn't have a hook to hang on in
the trouble-maker's barren closet of a mind, but Titus' face held his
attention like a kid hynotized by a campfire.

"You win, big fella, and what? People gonna buy you drinks, say,
'Cletus, tell us again how you beat up that old nigger?" There was a
chuckle from another table.

"On the other hand, what if you lose? There you are, looking for another
place to drink after work, hell, you might want to move, you lose to an
old scrawny bird like me."

"Name's Helton, old man, and no way I lose to you." Titus' knife was in his
face, the tip resting on the bridge of the barfighter's nose before he
could finish his boast. No one had seen the blade appear in Titus's hand,
not even Delano, and he had been expecting it. Titus saw what he needed in
the man's eyes as Helton tried to keep the point of the switchblade in focus.
With a smooth motion, he replaced the knife in his back pocket.

Helton looked at Delano, as if for advice. Delano shrugged, and looked
over at Helton's friends, both of whom raised their glasses to him. Frank
broke the silence. "Look at the time. Helton, it was real edifying to meet
you. Perhaps another time, you and your buddies could follow us outside,
but not now, Okay?"
 

As Mitch, who had insisted on driving, followed Delano's directions into
the the parking lot behind the studio, Frank punched him in the
shoulder.

"I don't disagree, Mitch. Titus' has the largest set in the car. But
goddamm if you don't come in second."

"Shee-it!" Titus exclaimed. "All I did was discuss parameeters wit' da
man. Mitch suggesting to that fat peckerwood for him to pay our bill,
that took a set must give him saddle sores."

"Yeah, you little fireplug." Delano said loudly. "What were you gonna do
when he swung at you, like I thought he was gonna do for a minute?"

"Grab his right wrist, spin him around, and kick his feet out from under
him. Then I'd show him the fingers on his right hand over his left
shoulder and ask him again to buy us our last round." The other three
were looking at him skeptically, so he added. "All-state high school
wrestling champ. I would have been won regional but for this Tex-Mex kid
with skin slippery as a seal's."

"Besides, he did pay. Are we parked here for a reason, Delano?"

The four got out of the car. Just as Mitch closed the driver's door,
Delano grabbed him from behind, pinning his arms to his sides. Mitch
braced his feet on the car and pushed off, landing them both on the
ground, Mitch on top. Delano, the breath knocked out of him,
couldn't maintain his grip on the little man. In seconds he was flipped
on his stomach, and Mitch was smiling at Frank. "Referee, a count
please." Frank complied as Titus laughed. Mitch bounced to his
feet, and gave Delano a hand up.

"I get it. Any of us could have taken Helton, and together, we could
have cleared the damn place to the planking. But now, gentleman," Delano
took a key from his pocket. "If they haven't changed the locks, I'm
gonna let y'all hear what only I could have done." The key worked, and
they walked in, Delano leading the way. Titus took a last look around
before locking the door behind him.
----------------------------------

Carruther's living room, modern times

"When Delano was fingered as the snitch that gave up Doc's operation,
New Orleans and Tampa put out a joint contract on him. Two hundred fifty
large, still a lot of money, but then enough to retire on, buy an island
villa, sip local rum from a glass rimmed with the local sugar."

"And it's still in effect? The contract?" Nancy was getting over her
purse being shot up. Both Jack and Carruthers had promised to buy her
new ones. "And not from K-Mart, either baby," Jack said. "We're taking
you to Target."

Carruthers went on. "Delano was declared dead at the scene, which was a
sidewalk in the colored section of Gulfport. I understand it was pretty
gory. The Italians were suspicious, because it was Frank who did the
declaring. But it was also rumored that he had done the killing in revenge
for Delano fucking up Frank's million-dollar retirement fund." He leaned
forward in his chair. "They never would have paid Frank. Maybe a little
up front, then he would be found dead in his car, a hose running from
the exhaust pipe to his window. A needle in his arm, maybe, him being a
doctor. Delano saved his life by snitching, if that is how it went down."

"That fight you and Jessie had with Frank. It doesn't sound like he was
mad at Delano."

"No, Jack, it doesn't. But the money's on Delano. His name is on the
report. And the organizational memory is long indeed. Plus, killing
Delano fifty years after fact would make the point that snitches can
never relax."

"How in the hell did your buds in Biloxi know I'd come to you? No
offense, but that is a low-rent operation. And that food sucks."

"Jack, who else were you told to call when you got here?"

"A Glenn Starnes, who was deceased. and a Curtis Davis who moved to
Baltimore...you mean Treme put the word out about me looking for Delano?"

"You have been on the radar since New Orleans. Treme is connected, and
when you came in, talking about Delano being maybe still alive, he
recalled the open contract. Of course he knew me, through both music and
our backgrounds. He gave you two useless names and mine. Word didn't get
to my compatriots until the afternoon of your lunch date with their
shoe leather and brass knuckles. Jessie concocted a plan while you lay
outside the bar in the dirt. He figured it'd be easier to follow you if
we knew your ride on site." Carruthers answered Jack's unvoiced
question. "Jessie's eyes have been better, most of middle management is
doing time, and the younger guys, Cal especially, aren't ideal
candidates for crime boss." He looked at Nancy as if they were
discussing the quality of nurses' aides these days.

"So you called Biloxi after I called you." Jack did a mental
calculation. Treme, Carruthers, maybe two guys from Biloxi. And the guy
he called Spats, the apparent boss in Biloxi. "The shares are kinda
small, considering the number of people involved."

"And considering the fact that there are two of you as well who have to
disappear. Nancy, it isn't going to happen. I have never killed a woman,
nor anyone who wasn't a player. I'm not starting now."

Nancy wasn't having it. "You had your gun on us." She pointed out. "And
besides, the guys from Biloxi would be the killers, or why send them in
the first place?"

Carruthers looked from Nancy to Jack, "Are you the detective, or is she?
Nancy, to your first question, I wanted to impress upon you two how
serious this is. You were never in any danger from me, although I admit
that was not the impression I wanted you to have. I hit exactly what I
wanted to hit." He looked proud. "Still got my chops."

Jack tried to get out ahead of the story. "You were fine with getting
whatever we had on Delano's status and whereabouts, then let them do the
dirty work."

"Only if we had to. If I could have gotten the intel without you knowing about
the hit, there would be no need to hurt you. I moved here to get away
from the killing and mayhem."

"But if it became necessary," Nancy interjected, "It wouldn't bother you
much."

Carruthers managed to look sheepish. "I suppose that's true."

"So what has changed?" Jack asked.

Carruthers tapped the wall between the living room and his workroom.
"Those coils of wire, Jack. That beautiful music, so ahead of its time."

Nancy wasn't too sure, Carruthers could see. "Nancy, go in there, and
turn on the reel-to-reel. Change the speaker switch from 'A' to 'B', so
we can hear it out here."

"Do you think that music is worth more than the hit?" Jack inquired as
Nancy made her way down the hall.

"It might well be, Jack." Carruthers looked sad, as if hurt that Jack
was thinking in monetary terms. "But I don't care. I'm sixty-six,
collecting Social Security, I own this place free and clear."

'Black Blood' started pouring out of the speakers situated in opposite
corners of the room. The sound was better on the Altec-Lansing towers
than the little shelf speakers in the other room. The choir could be
heard with greater clarity, the male voices and female ones separate and
strong.

"As I said Jack, I'm sixty-six. I don't want to be remembered fondly by a
bunch of thugs for a year or two, then forgotten."

The sax solo before the final chorus started up. Jack realized that they
had stopped talking for an interval of time, a couple of minutes at
least, caught up in the music they were hearing for the fourth or fifth
time tonight.

"That's a legacy I can be proud of, detective. I want my name involved
in getting this heard." The slide intro to 'Black Hands' began. Jack saw
that Carruthers was serious. His eyes were wet as he listened. Jack
sniffled as a string quartet echoed the guitar's moans.

Carruthers stood up suddenly. "Wonder what's keeping the nurse? C'mon,
Jack."

Jack followed the tall bone-white man down the hall. Carruthers stopped
at the door and looked in. He smiled at Jack, and beckoned him forward
to have a look. Jack did so, and saw Nancy staring at the tape player,
slowly turning one of the spools of wire in her hands. She was crying as
Delano sang about a slave laborer left to die of his injuries while a
column was raised into place at the Capitol.

"See what I mean?" He slapped Jack on the shoulder. "Delano has nothing
to fear from me. C'mon, sport, let's get the rest of those wires on
tape. We may nave not even heard the best yet."

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

April 25th, 1950

The cop approached the car from the rear on the passenger's side as his
partner tapped on the driver's window. He saw the badge in the driver's
hand before the window was halfway down, and he recognized District
Attorney Danvers, war hero and governor-in-waiting.

"Excuse me sir, but do you realize this park..."

"Is a haven for degenerates." Danvers finished for the Biloxi police
corporal. He softened his tone, but not much, when he continued. "The
poor lighting is conducive to the performance of bestial acts." Danvers
pocketed his badge as he continued. " I applaud your vigilance, but his
is a statewide investigation. And your presence might be compromising
it."

The corporal looked at his partner for help, but he was occupied with
his reflection in the 1950 Mercury's glossy black roof.

"Officer, just say loudly for me to move on, then you and your partner,
who are doing a great job, we've been watching you, y'all just steer
clear of this block when you see this car or..." Danvers looked across
the park, saw a truck parked there. "That truck. You see either vehicle,
just drive on, don't startle the fish, understand?" This last was voiced
in a conspiratorial whisper.

"Got it, Mr. Danvers."

And one more thing, Urquhart, right? This might involve higher-ups in
your department. Your partner can be trusted?" On Urquhart's nodded
assurance, Danvers went on. "So its best you don't mention this to
anyone. OK, now go."

The officer turned to leave, motioning his puzzled partner to do the
same. Danvers coughed, and Urquhart looked back.

"Say your line, Corporal."

"Right, now you just move on, Mr. Dan-, uh, fella. And don't let me
catch you here again!"

Danvers shook his head as he watched the police get in their car.
Urquhart, the idiot, waved at him as he drove by. Danvers cursed his
luck. Now it would be thirty minutes or better before the flamers
started their cruising again.

Well, he had time. Danvers had told the wife he would be working late.
He hoped she would be sound asleep when he get home. He didn't need any
more snide comments about 'nights with the boys'. Or, God forbid, that
she might be drunk and feeling amorous.

He was about to crank up the car and drive around until the twinks got
their courage up, when yet another tap on the window startled him. He
looked up at the Negro standing confidently beside his car. Nice body,
not pudgy like the cops. He had one shirt-tail out of his pants, the
right, Danvers' favorite, but he had his standards, the bar below which
he would not pass. Down went his window as he spoke to the silent
petitioner. "I don't go in for dark meat, sorry."

"I know what you go for." Everage said as he tossed a 8 x 10
black-and-white picture through the window. It landed right-side up.
Danvers' stomach lurched up into his throat, and stuck there. He watched
as one picture after another spun to a landing in his lap.

Everage bent down until his eyes were even with those of the stunned
public servant. "You have quite an active libido, Mr. Danvers.  Keep
those, I have copies. And," Everage added, "I have more pictures. A lot
more." Everage looked down at the top photograph. Did you learn that in
Belgium, DA?"

"It was night!", Danvers protested stupidly, as if he could convince the
photos that they could not possibly be real.

"Infra-red. Shit's heavy, and expensive. But worth every pound and
dollar. Of course, I had to learn how to develop pictures. You can't
take a roll of film like this to the local Rexall. I have invested quite
a bit of time and expense in making you a star, Mr. Danvers."

"I'm not rich, not by any means." Danvers was painfully aware of the
pleading note in his voice.

"That could be the only thing we have in common."

"Then what do you want from me?"

"I will tell you tomorrow night, same time as now. At the corner of Wilkes and
St. Alban there is an empty lot. Park your car there and get out. Walk
north. That truck across the way will be be parked near the corner or will
drive by at some point. I have partners as well as negatives, so no
tricks." Everage laughed at his little joke. He repeated the site of the
meet, then made Danvers say it. Satisfied, Everage turned and headed for
his truck.

"Wait! Can't you please just tell me what you want now?"

"I want nothing now, Danvers," Everage said over his shoulder, "Except
for you to think about all that you have to lose. Go home and sleep
poorly."

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

This a re-post from last year, when I was inspired by Alterego909's online dissertation on Kwanzaa. Links are provided for the inquisitive....

http://weblog.xanga.com/AlterEgo909/686501043/kwanzaa-the-introduction.html

http://weblog.xanga.com/AlterEgo909/686750701/kwanzaa--the-symbols.html

SHE LIGHTS THE KINARA

On the unrolled Mkeka she set the Kinara
as she thought of her ancestors' lives,
of the events their pride had survived,
as to the candle Umoja she touched fire.

Lit the candle Ujima for work in the fields,
the reaping of African soil's rich yields.
For the mazao she placed one ripe cassava,
millet, peanuts, squash, and fresh guava

On four ears of corn Muhindi's flame shone,
Two for the children who were playing outside,
and one for the newly born daughter that died,
and one for the new life inside her, and growing.
 
Ujima, Ujamaa, Kujichagulia, and Nia
their candles will all burn bright
on mkekas woven with Nia and Kuumba
In every home in the village tonight

The Kikombe, traditional symbol of unity
and the Kinara which stand by its side
were cut from one block of fine ebony,
and fashioned with a woodcarver's pride.

Soon her husband would return from the forest,
bearing fresh meat, and the smile that first won her.
Family would celebrate a bountiful harvest,
and their Imani, their Umoja, their honor. 

I'VE SLEPT WITH WIFE, ADMITS TIGER WOODS

"I've let my mistresses down", says golfer

(Windermere, Fl.) Golfing great Tiger Woods issued a statement Sunday, in which he admitted cheating on his 9 11 13 16 girlfriends with Swedish beauty Elin Nordegren, also known as Mrs. Tiger Woods. 

"I also spent time with my children, time that took away from relationships, and for this I am truly sorry." The statement, read by newly-hired publicist Barbi " Bada" Boominski, also stated that Tiger has been seeking treatment for his personal failings from a loose association of friends and advisors, including Kobe Bryant, Magic Johnson, South Carolina Governor Mark Sanford, Yankees 3rd baseman Alex Rodriguez, .....

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SEN. LIEBERMAN  NOW PARKS IN FRONT OF CAPITOL

Insists on being carried up front steps in litter

The Democratic majority in the US Senate, in yet another bid to court Senator Joseph Lieberman's (Dem Ind Rep- Conn.) yea vote on the ever-more watered-down Health Care Reform Bill, has given in to yet another of his demands. A parking space reserved exclusively for the increasingly demanding tool of the health insurance industry has been established at the foot of the steps leading up to the front doors of the Capitol building. Lieberman steps out of his Limo and then into a litter borne by a rotating team of Democratic senators. Only Senator Robert Byrd (Whig-W. Va.) has refused to bear the litter up the steps. "I would do my part", says the 92-year-old Senator, "I'm just as spineless as the next Democrat in the Senate. But I am just too old." Instead, he serves as a footstep for Lieberman when he alights from the litter...

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CLIMATE CHANGE SKEPTIC: POLAR ICE-CAPS DON'T EXIST

Can't See Them In Here, Says Denier With Head In Sand

"Lalalalalala, I can't he-eeear youuuu", replied climate skeptic Anthony Watts, when told by an actual climatologist that the melting ice caps prove global warming is real.......

Globe-Trotting

I reach between two oceans, with my finger trace the land
Decreeing one beach rocky, another lined with sand
Touch mountains running southward, a wrinkle in the skin
With one hard breath I cause the death of half a million men

I wonder who could live there, where the Earth is painted white
No cities to see, and that tells me they are buried in the ice
I next touch down in Asia, where the towns have funny names
Like Ping and Lo, and Zhing and Seoul, but it feels just the same

Samarkand and Hindustan are mere baby steps away
I step across Mt Everest, put thumbs down on Bengal Bay
The people of Namibia get crushed by clumsy hands
Orange Free State meets similar fate, as do its Afrikaans

The Atlantic needs more islands, I design them with a pen
Suddenly my godhood's over, with a slap on my rear end
'For the last time, young man, stay out of  your Dad's den!'
So until tomorrow, the globe gets one last backwards spin.

To all my Xanga friends, a big thank you for your support. It has really meant a lot to me, and I know it has aided in the recovery process. I am honored by your kind words, advice, and sympathy. Doctor Stokes saved my life, and he is one cool cucumber. I was fully conscious on the operating table, and was aware that things were not going as planned only by the excessive length of time the procedure was taking. Dr. Stokes never got excited, never raised his voice, and exuded confidence throughout the procedure. He never sounded worried, therefore I stayed calm as they chased down a piece of runaway plaque that threatened to make me an ex-Xangan.

The heart attack was the greatest pain I had ever felt in my life. I would not wish that on anyone, and I hope to never experience it again. But wouldn't you know, yesterday that sensation was exceeded by a factor of ten.

I was warned after the surgery that the tube inserted into my femoral artery would remain in place for a few hours, in case it was necessary to go back in due to any complications, and that its removal could be painful. The reason for the potential pain is that the artery runs up the body in a bundle with the vagus nerve and the internal jugular vein. The vagus nerve is a very sensitive fellow, and depending on how close it is to the artery holding the tube, removal of the tube after the local has worn off can range from mild to severe. Why they don't re-anesthetize people for the removal is beyond me, but may have to do with the logistics of moving the patient from recovery back to the operating room, and the further cost of keeping the anesthesiologist on the clock.

Anyway, a nurse, Marie, came in to do the removal. Well, this won't be bad, I thought. Surely they are thinking that I am a wimp like all those other patients who can't take  a little discomfort. Besides which, Marie IV'ed a 4 milligram dose of morphine into my system to ameliorate the pain she assured me was coming. We chat for a few minutes, then she decides that the morphine has taken affect, and tells me to brace myself and stay perfectly still. Smugly, as if looking away from getting a flu shot, I study the view outside the window. This will be nothing, pulling a bandage off a hairy leg, stepping on a sand spur..... Marie gives the tube a tug......

Jesus Christ!

       Oh Fuck, that hurts!

             Oh, My God! (remember, I am an atheist, but this was one hell of a foxhole. On a scale of 1 to 10, this is a safe that dropped from ten stories up, crushing the mechanism and the poor soul standing on it, silently questioning the needle's accuracy. This was a red-hot poker pressed into the eyeball, an amputation with a dull cross-cut saw. Injection with concentrated cottonmouth venom. Six seconds of Hell, cellar floor.)

That hurts! I whimpered, Marie stops and gives me the look my first grade teacher did the time I said 'asshole' on the playground.

"Do not talk like that to me, Mr. Cobb! And do not move, I might tear your artery and you could bleed to death right here. You be still, do you understand? And I cannot legally give you any more morphine! Are you going to be good?"

Some how, I found the strength to nod in the affirmative, then added weakly, "Don't you have a stick I can bite down on?" Marie did not crack a smile. but said that if she had one, she might hit patients with it, and finished the job while I gritted my teeth. Wouldn't you know, that initial h-bomb blast of pain, which was still reverberating through me, was the only pain I felt; maybe my senses were numbed by shock. Ten seconds later, Marie was pressing on the artery with all her might, and told me she would keep the pressure on until the blood coagulated, then she would put a pressure bandage on. I laughed when she told me that the pressure might hurt. I had a new definition of hurt, and it didn't kick in below 60-grit sandpaper rubbed on a blistering sunburn. A minute later, we were both laughing. She told me that I had done well, better than some of the tough gang-bangers she had treated in the past. Marie figured that the nerve sheath had been right up against the artery at the point of insertion for me to react that way, because usually patients cry through the whole ordeal, not just the beginning. I must have contracted Stockholm Syndrome, for her words seemed the kindest that I had ever heard. Later that night I threw up, and I slept poorly. But today there is no pain whatsoever. Two more days of observation, and I go home.

 This is Greg in ICU. He has to lay still for the next 6-8 hours or so, but he's doing well. He has a couple of spanking new stents in his heart and if he listens to the doctors (and his nagging wife!) he will be fine. Just wanted to give y'all an update.....

I have to add this new information....Greg's  ICU nurse explained to me tonight just how very close I came to losing my precious husband. It turns out that his blockage was in an area known as The Widow Maker (80% blockage of the mid left coronary artery). When they were doing his cath at the other hospital yesterday, they realized (but didn't think I needed to know, I guess) how bad it was. That's when they made the decision to transfer him to Bay Medical because they just can't fix these problems at Gulf Coast. And the cath procedure itself caused a blot clot that also could have very well killed him last night. So instead of saying "ok, I understand" (which I really didn't) when the dr was telling me what he did with the stents, I should have been kissing his feet and renaming my child after him! This guy literally saved my husband's life.  The nurse also told me that putting these stents in was a real tricky process because of the location of the blockage, further proof of the talent of this great doctor.

I think Greg and I are both a little stunned tonight by what could have been. I know he is so much more precious to me right now. Thanks much for all of your good thoughts and prayers! I will take very good care of him now, I promise.

Cathy

Say hello to my little friend!

I am becoming quite the expert on hospitals these days. I am working on my second day of my second stay in a medical facility in five weeks. My wife spent a night in a different hospital a few days ago. I am supposed to be taking care of her right now, but I had severe chest pains yesterday afternoon. The same pains as I experienced before, but the doctors in Pascagoula ruled out any heart trouble then, and it was a mystery as to the cause, although I was told that it was a tear in a pectoral muscle.

I knew that couldn't be it, as the next day the pain was gone. Muscles do not heal that fast, especially after the kind of pain I was feeling (9-10 on a scale of 1 to 10, 10 being the greatest pain I ever felt). This time, at least I was home when it happened. The doctors here did an enzyme test, and my levels of troponin(sp?) were elevated. Troponin is released into the bloodstream from dying or dead heart cells, so the working diagnosis is that I had a heart attack. Tomorrow I get a cardio-catheterization, wherein a  camera on the end of a flexible tube is inserted into an artery in my groin, and guided up into my heart to have looksee at the damage.

I have been stuck in room 332 since yesterday, and whether I get to go home tomorrow depends on what the doctor sees on his screen and, as the cardiologist pointed out, whether the procedure causes more harm. Yes, it can cause a stroke, another heart attack, even death in rare cases. But rarity is a relative term, of no use when it happens to you. My wife's aunt died during such a procedure, but surely, they have learned a lot from mistakes made in the sixties, right? Right?

Anyway, my story is on hold. I have portions of the next two chapters written, and I like the way things are developing. I hope that, whenever I get them finished and posted, that you will to.

Boy, do I miss my puppies.

    I love Pitt Springs. It stopped flowing for a time, and looked brown and
    dismal. A couple of months ago, it began to pump out clear water from
    an aquifer that stretches north into Tennessee.

These are Amanita muscaria, the Magic Mushroom. My Field Guide warns that
ingestion of these can lead to fits of laughter, giddiness, a sense of euphoria,
followed by a deep sleep. Beware! I was tempted to eat eat one, believe me. But
two hours after this picture was taken, I was in an emergency room. What hilarity
would have ensued had I actually taken them, then had my heart attack.