I went into a chat room, for I had some time to spare.
But the mood was dark and ugly, I got the heck outta there.
The emoticons were livid, the  font was quite irate
the text was vexed because Barack is not from any state!

The President is a commie, and a Kenyan, that's a fact
A democrat and a muslim, did you notice that he's Black?
A community organizer and Chicago gangster all in one
He taxes the rich, his wife's a bitch, but take a gander at her guns*.

Now, that was just a warm-up, the best was on its way
Did you know that rock and roll is making teens turn gay?
That rappers' native rhythms enslave our naive daughters
Scientists used hypnosis, so we'd think the globe is getting hotter

Now, you know I like to argue, and I love a good debate
I want to hear the facts, man, not why or whom you hate
If you swear, use 'their' for 'there', and climb up on a 'latter'
if you won't use commas, period, 'than' your opinion doesn't matter

Those vapor trails behind jet planes are getting out of hand
the feds use 'em for spreadin' barium across this oppressed land
Though it lacks rhyme or reason, we know it to be true,
just like we knew Saddam had nukes, and Roosevelt was a Jew.

*guns = big, muscular biceps.

One of our deckhands hurt his back, so I had to take his place on the tow as we transited Industrial Lock eastbound. Each deckhand takes a position on opposite sides of the head of the tow, and feeds, via VHF radio, a steady stream of info to the pilot. Our tow is 70 foot wide, the Lock is 75-foot wide. Each locking takes about an hour. The river is high right now, we will be dropping 11 feet in the chamber. So, if you are ready, let the locking begin.

St. Claude Bridge spans the western approach to the Lock, and opens, except during curfews, upon request of a vessel

 The bridge lifts once Industrial has opened their gates on the river side.

....once the westbound traffic clears....

 
.....the ever-alert Ronnie and I guide Jerry as he steers the tow into the Lock.

 You can see the difference in water levels as we look east

That isn't a dead animal on the deck; it's a bumper made from an old line. We drop them between the barge
and the Lock wall to minimize damage when they make contact.

 
 Pushing out of Industrial eastbound

There is almost always a crowd of onlookers, fascinated by the precision, daring,
  and just plain manliness of our occupation

Those beams are made of an artificial rubber, and can stand up to some pretty punishing hits, much better than wood

Our roses responded rather well to the improved weather....

This is our antique vining rose. I think it is the prettiest one. 

A single antique rose

 A variety of Knockout Rose, a very hardy plant, and very profuse

 Our roadside rose, the oldest one in the yard. We alternately abuse and neglect this poor fellow,
 and still he rewards us with wonderful blooms

All three of my loquats are full of fruit this year. Some, like the one on the end, are days away from picking

Do NOT talk to him until he's had his morning coffee!

How many times now have you braced
for an end to our civilized human face?
From a comet's tail or a nuke-plant failure,
to an asteroid that might strike us earlier

Is there enough butter in your larder,
did you read those books on barter?
Will you hunker in your bunker, man, 
a Bushmaster Carbine in your hands?

And no matter what cataclysm we face,
fire, plague, socialism, some angry race
Outside you'll peek, in a month, a week
and find the crisis has passed, or peaked

The sun will still shine, the air will be fine
the geiger's low count will ease all minds
that we might start gleaming or glowing
or on brand-new sea we might be rowing.

But have you pondered, what if it was worse?
No responders at all, much less a first
no army handing out clean water and tents
no TV to tell us just what it all meant?

After the disaster, and the departed are mourned
would you infect with your hatreds, the country re-born?
would you take the Constitution, make a few amends, 
Ban the Koran, people with accents and too-dark skins?

Or, when you run low on ammo and gas,
and the generator has sputtered its last
Will you find your self-reliant island  in need 
Would the neighbors of your plight take heed?

Or, will they remember a man who kept to himself 
answered smile with grimace, who helped nobody else?
Maybe you survived too well, and they would say
He was always a loner, he can just stay that way?

I got an early start on heading to the woods the other morning, so naturally, I lost time by stopping on the
Bailey Bridge to catch this sunrise shot.

They say no two are alike...

 
A  Cypress Tree plays host to some Poison Ivy

A ship in General Anchorage, south of New Orleans. It is waiting for either dock space upriver,
or for the fog to completely lift so she can top out and head downriver to the Gulf

The seemingly perennial widening of the Huey P. Long Bridge proceeds apace, as they say

 
Talk about a skyhook!

Didn't know that seagulls fielded a formation flying team, did you?

 
It's getting late, go home!

• "Termites, all right. Wood's softer than oatmeal."
• "Would you step out of the car, please?"
• "Bob, times are hard, and...."
• "Nurse, call Dr. West over here, he'll want to see this!"
• "You'd better sit down."
• "I hear it, too, but it isn't raining."
• "Honey, we need to talk"
• "A reporter from 60 minutes is here to see you."
• "Guess who's going to be on Springer next week?"
• "The IRS doesn't joke, sir."

Seven Pelicans came floating by my wheelhouse window this afternoon, and boy, did that tick me off! Why? Because, of course, they only do that sort of thing when their x-ray vision tells indicates that my camera is turned off or downstairs. One fellow did not get the memo, however, and while he didn't brush the window pane with his wingtip, he did get in close enough for this shot.....

So we're swinging Upper 12 northbound, right?  We're faced up to the tow, got the Chelsea on my port hip, shoving three loads strung out, one empty stack-cover breasted in on the port head. We caught the edge of the eddy, and our speed jumped from 3.7 to 5.8 statute. I kept close to the point so as to meet 93, onboard a loaded panamax bulker, on the one blast.

I felt a little movement in the tow as I gave the sticks a bump to starboard, one of the fore and afts must be loose at the steering coupling, as I had already ruled out the face wires being at fault. So I resolved to send a deckhand out on the tow to tighten some ratchets after we made the point. I called the boat behind me, and we agreed that I would leave him some room on the one, and we were doing just fine.

I called the deckhands up to the wheelhouse to tell them what I had in mind. Suddenly we felt another bump, which came just as the ship passed me. It was probably his wake, plus the slack in the wires, which caused the wires at the starboard steering coupling to snap as they got tight. The two lead barges, with the empty breasted in, started veering off to the port as I slammed both engines into reverse, in an attempt to prevent the tow from twisting all the way around. The Chelsea helped for a minute, but Clint was afraid of being crushed as the tow swung around, and had his deckhand unhip their boat and he got away, but ready to help.

I jumped on the VHF and said that our steering coupling had parted, and that we were taking up the entire river just above Upper Twelve. By this time my efforts to straighten the tow by backing down were not achieving the desired result, so I steered hard to port, which did start to close the gap.The port wires having held so far, I was careful too not be going too fast when they got tight again, or we would snap them as swell. By now, we were floating downstream at current speed, 3.4 mph, and hurtling across the river as well, towards a fleet of barges. I called the fleet boat and told him quickly what was happening. The wheelman on the Legend asked what he could do, I said not much, but maybe push me away before we knocked his fleet loose, sending dozens of barges loose, which would in turn hit other fleets, a chain reaction no one wants to see. "That I can do." he replied.

I'm juggling two radios now, talking to the Legend on 66, bridge-to-bridge on 67, Vessel Traffic on 12, and the Chelsea on 17. We are heading into the bend, where we will pile up on the bank and possibly hole a barge or two. But Clint got on the head, and pushed two pieces of the tow together, the deck crew managed to catch one wire, and I twin-screwed the tow clockwise and headed northbound once more as the deckhands ran a new starbaord double-up. By this time we were below Upper Twelve again. I thanked my lucky stars that, for the first time that night, there was not a single downbound tow or ship in the vicinity when we went out of control. I expected Vessel Traffic to want me to fill a 2692, but when I called in an 'all clear', all he did was laugh about the tension in my voice during the situation. That was a relief, I hate paperwork.

Our first rose of the year 

The picnic pavilion at Seven Runs, a trailhead off hwy. 20 where I hunt the elusive mushroom.

Controlled burns reduce the amount of flammable debris in the forests, and prevent crown fires, in which the canopy catches fire, and many trees die

Nature always bounces back, I wonder how man will do?

17 sailors on the USS Ronald Reagan were exposed to low-level doses of radiation due to fallout from the Fukushima nuclear power plant in Japan. Damaged in  Friday's earthquake and by the ensuing tsunami, the plant has been releasing clouds of radioactive gases, and the plant could still host a full-scale meltdown. At least 10,000 are dead, millions more are without power and shelter.

This whole situation is tragic, and a reminder of how the Earth merely tolerates our presence. The constant barrage of of video and expertise on the news channels is evidence of the singularity of this event. At least, it is life-defining to the Japanese.

And a slice of that coverage, confined mainly to the scroll underneath the expert voice-overed scenes of mass destruction, is devoted to the fact that our fleet had to be relocated. Every third or fourth sentence reeling out from right to left concerns the radiation that our sailors may have received. Typical of our news organizations today, the amount of radiation was not reported, nor the medical treatment administered to the sailors.

Well, guess what? I googled furiously, and in .0313 seconds, I had the answer. Sort of. The dosage in roentgens was never mentioned in the San Diego Union Tribune article that I accessed, but the dosage was compared to the amount that one would  normally receive from natural sources in a 30-day period. And the treatment? Water and soap. A shower, that's it, and our boys are safe.

Now, don't you think that ray of sunshine has lifted the spirits of the Japanese people in these troubled times? Americans, exposed to Japanese radiation, quite possibly a higher dose than Paris Hilton's posse absorbed last summer in Cap d'Antibes {insert favorite Paris' posse joke here}, are rendered safe by quick action and Lever 2000.

To answer those incisive questions, I fabricated, then interviewed, an average Japanese man on the street:

Me: Sir, excuse me. Do you have a minute to answer a few questions?

Composite- Japanese Average Man: I already did, for the reporter back down the street. (counts off on his fingers) How do I feel about the disaster that has struck my country? What was running through my mind during the earthquake? What will I do n..

Me: That was no news reporter, that was the Today Show crew. No, I want to ask you, sir, how do you feel about your power plant exposing American sailors to radiation?

C-Jam: Oh yeah, 50 millirems, right?

Me: I don't know, what's a millirem?

C-Jam: Masaka! Worthless American education system.... ask my Grandmother about millirems

Me: Your grandmother?

C-Jam: She received a dose of radiation when our countries first started exchanging nuclear isotopes. Her shadow is on a wall in Hiroshima.

Me: I'm sorry, I didn...wait a minute! I made you up!

C-Jam: The shadows are real, And your sailors, they will be just fine. Now, if you will excuse me, there's a country to rebuild...

Me: Good luck, Mr. Average Japanese Guy-person. Boy, you know those composite Japanese are plucky as can be, resilient in the face of disaster. And they make a lot of sense, too.

Mullah Ahkuda bin Akontenda's advice column appears in the Wahabbi Herald Inquisitor every Sunday except during Ramadan

Esteemed Mullah,

I am a virtuous woman, chaste and pure. As an obedient daughter should, I await my father's decision as to whom I shall marry. To help the family better afford the burden of my presence, and to help fatten the dowry, I have taken employment in a retail shop.

Now to my problem, may Allah see fit to give you the power to help me. My employer seeks to compromise my virtue; he has offered me money to engage in unspeakable wickedness, and says that if I refuse, he will tell everyone that I did the abominable deeds anyway. Mullah, he is a man of substance and means, and has influence in the community. How can I resolve this situation, continue to contribute to the family's finances, and save my honor?

             Chaste in Aden

Dear Chaste,

   Whore! Temptress of men! Thine evil cannot be undone. I have told your brothers and they will address your stain on the family honor.

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

Dear Mullah,

I am a dutiful wife, I obey my husband, comply when he wishes to make sport, and take his beatings with the spirit of love  with which they are given. Lately, however, my husband has been too tired to beat me when he comes home, which is later and later these days, and sport-making has become infrequent. Yesterday at dinner, when he half-heartedly slapped me for serving runny hummus, I saw fresh scrapes on his knuckles. I fear, most wise Mullah, that my husband has been beating another woman. Tell me. I beg you, what am I to do?

              unmarked in Marrakesh

Dear unmarked,

Drain the hummus before bringing it to the table, or use slightly less oil, and mix well before serving.

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

Dear Mullah,

Please tell me, most learned Mullah, how it is that women, so beautiful in their myriad ways,  came to be so vilified in our culture and theology.  Enlighten me as to how the same breast that fed us all at the beginning of life can harbor such evil as you and the scriptures claim?

                 curious in Khartoum

Dear Curious,

Woman, beautiful? How would you know, unless you have seen the shapely servants of Satan unveiled? A morals squad is on its way to your house, they will find your picture books, your computer files of bare-ankled, shoeless succubi, and begin your re-education with a sound thrashing.

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

For more advice from the mullah, go here

The mullah is a certified judge of the public morals, and has 20 years experience enforcing the laws of Mohammad on the streets of Medina. And, ladies? He's still single!

The Chipola River is the largest tributary of the Appalachicola River, into which it drains. It is fed by 63 fresh-water springs, and the 8 largest add 233 million gallons a day to the river's flow.

we parked at a rest area/boatramp on hwy 20

Even on a dull gray, overcast day, it is beautiful

the knees of a cypress tree help it take in oxygen during periods of high water.

 This ambulance was hauling ass, hopefully not in vain.

 the Chipola basin is often submerged

Ron ponders his reflection. 

 
There were some oddly shaped trunks in the basin

 What critter makes this tunnel?

There were a few flowers blooming, these orchidy things...

....and these yellow flowers
 

 
                                  I loves me some boiled goober peas

I spent Saturday morning riding in the woods with my friend Ron, to whose house we repaired after our excursion. Spring is springing forth, and flowers and greenery were appearing everywhere on his property. Our foray into the wilds of the Chipola Basin will be the subject of my next photo-blog.

Ron's front door. He made that stained-glass window his own self.

 
Ron consults the Buddha daily for sage advice. For basil advice, he sacrifices a hamster to Demeter

 
Ron's tea rose blooms started opening today....

...and pear trees all over North Florida are in bloom, including his

His Bird of Paradise blooms are always spectacular.

Never satisfied with the size of his onions, Ron overcompensates by ever-increasing the volume of his crop

I give him hell about his useless windmill 

Once outstanding in his field, Ron then moved into the greenhouse

 
The greenhouse kept Ron's bromeliads warm and cozy all winter

        Some ultra-hot pepper that kills flying insects as they pass by

As you may have guessed, Ron has two green thumbs. The only thing greener is my envy of his beautiful homestead.

The city slept on, well past daylight, ......

....as certain parties set their nefarious plan in motion. Messengers were dispatched.....

We tried to warn them.........

The excitement seemed to be over, and we tied up for the night. Still, I had the oddest feeling....

..that we were being watched. Bah! Just my imagination, I'm sure....

 Green Ship,

Blue Ship

Red ship,

Rich $hip

A tree was blooming on the Michoud exit. Any guesses?

My backyard buckeye leafed out this week.

I love PaintShop Pro v,4.2. They have released a v.8 by now, but I am used to this one. Every now and then, I succumb to the urge to doctor my photos a bit, punch up the color, increase the shadows for more depth, etc.  In the pic below, I brightened and colored the marsh grass, emphasized the shading in the clouds. The original was flat amd washed-out looking.

I accentuated the shadows and reduced the number of colors. Now it looks almost painted to me.

My favorite building in Mobile. This is just a picture, nature provided the effect.

 As the shrimper culls the catch from the last trawl, he throws the fingerling fish and squid in the water, to the delight of his fans

Security cleared the beach before our annual walk.

 
My wonderful wife

These are Old-School tourists; rent a 1st-floor kitchenette on the beach, and catch your supper

We ate at Schooner's, my old haunt back in the day. The food is still good, the view fantastic
 
Is the sunglassed-guy the moody guy's self-image, or his wished-for persona?
 Is this meant to epitomize a contrast between intro- and extroversion?
Truth be told, this picture is a total accident. I was testing the light for a sunset shot.

From this vantage point, the beach looks pretty much like it did in the fifties...

 But from this angle, welcome to Miami Beach north! Still, they have a geometric beauty, and nice colors

I liked this guy's spotted tail feathers

 
Good camera, huh? Stopped the rotors. It missed the tracer rounds, but you can't have everything

I found some old family photos this week, and I also found a link to our family's history, dating back to the Plymouth Colony. Just thought I'd share....

Mom & Dad met in the Army, in 1951...

Mom is on the right, both feet on the ground

 
That's my Dad on the horse.

Dad is on the left. He and Grandmother lived with the Rixey's, their cousins, during the latter half of the Depression. Eppa Rixey was a baseball player, one of the best left-handed pitchers ever.