We dropped off four empty barges at a dock in Theodore, Alabama, yesterday morning. By tonight, they should be loaded and ready for us to pick them up and take them back west to New Orleans. We have four loads to deliver to Mobile, the final leg of this eastbound run.

This is a series of pictures I took from the time we left Theodore until we were in the Mobile River, six hours later.

 Looking west into Theodore harbor just after sunrise

 
We met boats of all types, both recreational....

 ...and working vessels

 A Coast guard patrol boat passed us by

We picked up some hitch-hikers on the way. We have 4 scrap loads in tow. The metal will be melted down and used to make steel plate, which we will take back to New Orleans. Now you'd think...
nah, that would put me out of a job.

 McDuffie Coal terminal is the first facility one encounters upon
 entering Mobile harbor

 
McDuffie's dock is long enough to work two ships this size at once, plus several barges on the back side.

   Don't know what to make of the Lazy Dolphin here. Cute, though

    R2D2's parents scan the horizon for any sign of their offspring 

 The Mobile Convention Center. Here is where I was relieved by Jerry,
who brought the tow the rest of the way up to Cooper Fleet.

author's note:
Yeah, I time-stamped, I re-wrote some of this, as I was dumb enough to place a harbor in Verona, a land-locked town.

Cast of Characters

Popeye de Verona- A Sailor-man

Olive D'oyl-A Captain's daughter, seriously on the make.

Bluto-A ruffian of Venice, controls the wharves, and has his eye on the fair maid Olive.

Wimpy-Ship's cook

Archios the victuals seller

chorus of whores

Act I, scene one- Popeye and Wimpy are on shore leave in Venice after a rough Atlantic crossing.

Popeye: (chortles) Decorum, that inhibitor of unpremeditated action, is all that keeps me from kissing the very earth beneath our feet, Wimpy.

Wimpy: And a lack of ketchup with which to render this soil palatable, is all that saves it from ingestation.

(Popeye spies a comely, if awfully thin, wench across the piazza. His pipe whirls madly, lighting itself with the heat of the Popeye's ardor, as he has been deprived of female companionship for many a month.)

Popeye: Ah, Procrustes. Thou mayst have stretched this comely maiden, but to a perfection which ancient lore has deemed you incapable of wreaking.          

Wimpy: (to audience)Oh dear, I see the sails of a vessel of travail appearing on the horizon, and making good way in our direction.
              (to Popeye) Forgetteh thee, old friend, that the Captain has charged us with seeking out and subsequently bargaining for the replenishing of our depleted ship's stores at the most advantageous price? Veer not, he did say unto us, from our task.

Popeye: Consider, Wimpy, that mayhap yonder comely lass is indeed herself a ship's chandler, or a daughter thereof? If such circumstance proved true, then we would be in violation of the charge to which the Captain has entrusted us, should we refrain from engaging her in a dialogue. (Popeye makes his way across the square, swiping on the way a vase full of flowers from an open window.)

Olive: A handsome sailor doth approach, and no stallion could make plainer his intentions. Yet, he strides with purpose, his clothes are clean, and whiter than the sun-bleached shinbone of St. Ignacio, at whose reliquary I only this morning prayed that I might meet my husband-to-be before my eighteenth birthday has passed, and my value wanes. I so long to honor Father, but his choice for my hand leaves me troubled. Still, I will marry his choice, for cementing business relations with the Panera family by wedding his son is Father's most ardent wish. Unless, my prayers are answered, and I find a beau whose attributes are more conducive to both Father's and mineself's long-term best interest. For I long for adventure and learning, goals far more attractive than marrying well and having baby after baby after baby....

Popeye: Madame, mightsk I interrupt your soliloquy?

Olive: Forgive me , sailor man, for airing my troubles aloud. My, what an unusual pipe you have. Of what material is its construction?

Popeye: It is carved from the cob of the fruit of the maize, a plant indigenous to the New World, from whensk my ship has just returned from a successful voyage.

Olive: The New World! How exciting! You must have many tales of bravery and adventure, for I hear monstrous animals and grasses the size of trees exist in those exotic climes.

Popeye: If exoticism equals beauty, then thou art the strangest sight I have had the fortune to lay eyes upon.

Olive: An odd, but touching compliment thou hast chosen to bestow upon me, sailor. Tell me your name, and of what high-born family you may be a member.

Popeye: I yam what I yam, and a sailor has no family more matterful than his fellow shipmates.

Olive: Oh, a noble sentiment indeed...

Popeye: But I do have these, although they doth dim in the glow of your loveliness, which doth shine on this market like a second sun might seek to upstage its established rival.

Olive: (titters) How sweet! And you refer to that which you hide in the hand behind your back?

Popeye: A mere token of my appreciation. (just as Popeye brings his hand into view, the flowers are snatched away by a large bearded man, who proceeds to swat the smaller sailor into the muddy street.)

Bluto: Thanks for holding my flowers for me whilst I attended to the important business of the wharf. Now begone and be grateful for the chance to do a favor for the merchant class, seaman.

Olive: Oh Bluto! What lovely flowers!

Bluto: You are the fairest of all flora, these merely accent your superior attributes.

Popeye: Verily, blowest me down! How fair is it that I steal the flowers in order to impress a lady, and they are stolen from my hand by a lout of her acquaintance? How is it that she does not see that said bouquet was mine, and meant to endear her to me? Has high-blooded inbreeding rendered her infirm of sight? What would a gentleman from Verona do in this circumstance? As if I should even consider such notions, when a sailor knows what must be done ere his name be dragged through the muddy streets like Hector after his defeat at the hands of  Achilles...

Chorus of whores: So for what is it that you wait? Is thine talk a shield, employed to avoid action? Nay, forget the skinny one, and take for your pleasure a stout woman, to whom no act is without precedent.

Popeye: I will fight, for my honor, and that of my ship! And, just once, I want a woman who has shared not her gifts with men for money, just once! (And he starts hitting Bluto from behind. Bluto ignores him and continues sweet-talking his intended. Finally, Popeye's punches gain his notice, and without taking his lecherous eyes from Olive, he grabs Popeye, whirls him above his head like a baton, and sends him flying across the marketplace.

Act I, Scene two   across the marketplace

Archios: In this pot is spinach, and sir, as with the crumbled and pressed beef that lies between two slices of bread, Should ye acquire the wherewithal to pursue purchase, you may then have a taste of the fare. But eat today on a promise of recompense on the morrow? It shall not be.

(Suddenly there is a splash, and Archios the seller of victuals, and Wimpy are both covered with green strands of wet vegetable matter)

Wimpy: (sampling the strange new foodstuff, gauging the crew's reaction to its being served with grog) Surely, you will not insist that I place this flotsam back in the pot? Better that it not go to waste....Popeye!(seeing his friend surface from where Bluto's toss had landed him). Surely thou art blisterd from immersion in such a hot medium.

Popeye: Me pipe is extinguished! (he sucks harder on the corn-cob, hoping for an ember to catch. Instead, he sucks a stream of spinach down his throat. Trumpets blare, the anchors tattoed on his arms jump off, grow to ten feet in height, and pull him from the boiling pot of greens. He reaches into the cauldron and grabs a handful of spinach, stuffing in his mouth, swallowing it without chewing, which is the secret to getting real strong from the ingestion of a mundane vegetable.)

Archios: His forearms doth swell, as in the manner of a street dog's carcass left in the hot sun, abandoned in death as in life. And there is murder in his eyes.

Wimpy: Aye, I fear for he who is the subject of his anger.

(curtain falls as Popeye approaches Olive and Bluto)

=======================

Act II, scene one , an hour later

Archios: Had the Gods made this their battleground, still would we have not seen a better fracas than the one just witnessed.

Chorus of whores: You witnessed, Archios, we had business to attend to.

Archios: This man Popeye did wield a mighty fist. His first punch sent Sra. Panera's boy Bluto into the air, as like a rocket which the fablist Marco Polo described in his questionable journals. Then, whence Bluto's plummet did bring him once again into proximity with the fists of the transformed sailor man, he was subjected to a trouncing of comic proportions. The dust did settle, and a sight was revealed to us that defies understanding. Bluto was reduced to a stack of sliced Genoa Salami, with a sticker on the top listing the price at 50¢/lb. Now, what is this ¢, I asked, but some symbol of the dark arts? The constable agreed, and Popeye, the sailor man, is at this very minute being burned at the stake for his sorcery. Now, ladies, if you will accept my pardon, I must find a funny-looking fellow who has taken my Genoan salami as his own, and have him join the warlock on the pyre.

Chorus of whores: We saw him! (Pointing left)He went that way!

(Archios turns and strides away. From underneath the dresses of the chorus of whores, Wimpy peers out. Satisfied that Archios has taken the misdirection, he picks up the remains of Bluto and prepares to head back to his ship.)

Wimpy: My thanks, ladies, for the protection, as well as the quality of your service.

Chorus of whores: All well and good, sirrah. But we take our thanks in coin of the realm.

Wimpy: Which coin I will pay tomorrow for what I ate today. Good day, ladies, I have business to conduct with the baker down the way. 

{Exit, stage left, curtain falls}

...And Other Offensive Book Titles

Amazon caught Hell this week, when it was discovered that a book extolling the virtues of pedophilia, The Pedophile's Guide to Love and Pleasure: a Child-lover's Code of Conduct was for sale on the site. They quickly removed it, and a consulting firm was hired to draft an apology that will be tested on audiences in Ames, Iowa, Tempe, Arizona, and Rome, Georgia, before its release to the general public.

Now, that's all well and good, but it is merely reactive. Proactive measures are called for. Amazon needs to streamline their and fine-tune their review process. However, they need to do more than just reject offensive published material, they need to get ahead of this problem, and be on the lookout for offensive titles to books yet to be written, titles such as:

Great Moments In Animal Cruelty

Wife-Beating Made Simple

Waterboarding The Autistic, It Works!

A Child's Guide to Glue-Sniffing

Profiles In Ethnic Cleansing

The Joys of Cannibalism

Elementary, My Dear, Sexting For the Younger Set

So You Want To Make A Car Bomb

Cyber-Bullying  For Dummies

Knife Tag, Playing With Matches, and other fun things to do on rainy days

The Xangan Connection

I was between assignments, enjoying a rare moment of java-induced conviviality, but I knew deep-down that it could not last....

Missing author? A bar in Old New Orleans? Never mind
the mixed metaphor, this has the stink of Xanga written all over it!

I had to act fast. First, I drew on my contacts in the area....

...who, in turn consulted their sources

Word of my arrival spread quickly

A lead involving this fashionably decaying house proved to be a dead end...

 
What does 'The Tall Rider" have to do with anything?
I filed the encounter away for later ponderation, ruminizing, what's that damn word? 
thinking about.

Hard to concentrate with all these annoying street musicians around, their high
lonesome harmonies paired with impeccable picking, but I have a job to do.

     A call from Mme Memonah;
 her rooster's entrails led to this seedy establishment

And there it was, Doah's car!

That disarming smile hides a wickedly nefarious imagination. The same can be said about Jeff.

We spent a wonderful two hours with Jeff and his lovely wife Carol, sampling the local cuisine and spirits. Then we had to leave, but not before I received my fee; a signature and personal dedication on the first page of Jeff's latest mystery opus, It's Beginning to Look a Lot like Murder.Thanks for the encouragement, friend, and I will be sure to sign your copy of my first published work.

Why did you grow a beard? She asked me
Only a child is ever so forward
and a child will ask the questions we never expect
Like, why did I grow a beard?

I think it looks good, is my answer today
She ponders this with a frown
Beard queries mean as much as questions about God
And you can touch a beard

I don't like it, you look better without it
she says with youthful surety
Well, that is that, she switches subjects like channels
Before I am quite ready

Why do I wear a beard? I have a weak chin
Is my frequent answer to this
I'm too lazy to shave, I respond on Tuesdays
Sundays, razors damage the dermis

The seventies were the easiest time in the world
To spare one's cheeks from the blade
My heroes were hairy, girl-laden, and wealthy
And most times, after shaving, I bled

Twenty-plus bearding equals thirty and dashing
General Custer without the Indians
moody horsebacked envy of colonels and majors
By forty the bare spots had filled in

The silver in my beard of fifty opens doors for me
Ageist chivalry in all its glory
Instead of tickets, I get a chuckle and a warning
The whiskers, it's gotta be

I must be hiding something, my beard is a mask
or so the pundits declaim
who in daily rite razor part of their manhood away
What are they hiding from?

The mirror sees well each wart and wrinkle
through my barrier of hair
I cannot answer a question asked wrong
My beard grows with me.

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

                  A PREMATURE RANT

 The Harris-Gallup poll dance leads to but one conclusion, that the republicans are going to be in charge of both houses of Congress next year. So, I am going to  get out ahead of the pack, and release my post-election commentary early, as in now:

To the Winner(if you are a democrat): Congratulations! You had an opponent who either said one too many incredibly stupid things (i.e., a Tea-Party dunderhead) or one who helped you by splitting the Republican vote (i.e., a Tea-Party dunderhead).

But the reason most certainly has little to do with your grasp of economics. It also does not reflect your concern for your constituents, or there would be a public option in the health bill. Nor does your concern for justice set the electorate on fire, or we would not be sentencing Omar Khadr to prison for 8 more years for crimes he supposedly committed when he was 14. Crimes which he only confessed to after being tortured, during a trial wherein he was not allowed to mount anything remotely resembling a defense. You say that you were against the tribunals? That you wanted a public option? Well, you didn't fight hard enough for the latter, nor were you vocal about your opposition to the former. Now, grow a backbone and conscience, and shed your corporate sponsors like a snake sheds its skin, and start doing what's right for American citizens, instead of multi-national corporations.

To the winner (if you are a Republican): congratulations, you earned it. Or rather, Dick Armey, the Koch Brothers, and corporate America earned it for you. You are bought and paid for, you are no less of a tool than Bush 43 was; the same corrupt bastards will be pulling your strings. hey, your zipper's down....Hah! made your handler look! We know what you are going to, eight years of Bush are still fresh in our minds, as they are in yours, the only difference being you think this time, it'll work. It won't, it has never worked anywhere, dimbulb.

To the voters (if you are republican) Fox News is a hole in the sand, get your head out of it, and see what you have wrought. Lobbyists will be writing the bills for the morons you elected. At least they are more likely to make dope legal, I need something to take my mind off the terroist-inspiring, screw-the-poor, torture-state this land has become. May your kid be the first to land in Iran after you elect sarah palin to the office of President in 2012.

To the voters(if you are democrat): Didn't have much choice, did you? Tell me about it, most Dems were running on empty; empty of ideas, empty of spine, and full of corporate cash. Seriously, for all the diffence it's going to make, you should have vote for the Green Party guy/gal, for all the difference between the dems and reps these days. Yeah, there is a difference, Republicans do mean and nasty things, and Democrats whine and wring their hands, then meekly go along with Republicans, and all because they want to win over the...

Independent voter--You unmitigated asshole, the only thing that you are independent of is independent thinking.! Every election, you switch sides, depending on what the polls say you are voting for this year. And you say stupid crap like "Fox News and MsNBC are just alike". No you jerk-off, they are not. Unlike Fox's constant drumbeat for the Tea-Baggers, MSNBC does not side with a particular party. Like Fox, they do criticize the President, but for Not being Left-Wing Enough. I disagree here, Obama has a left-wing, he just keeps it tucked under his right-wing, safe from harm.

ON THE JERRY SPRINGER SHOW

I got home from the night shift, and grabbed myself a beer,
turned on the cable-ready TV, and quickly there appeared
The Ringmaster and his crew, with the daily dose of weird
Between my socks I watched as his audience began to cheer

Jerry, Jerry, who's on today? We would really like to know
Albino gays that are easy lays, or pimps who like fat ho's?
Nazis dressed in diapers, swastikas tattoed on their toes?
Worse than that, my beer I spat, my daughter's on his show!

She's with a midget wrestler, who dresses just like Presley,
He gets spanked by tranny skanks, her best friend is a lezzie
They have food fights between the sheets, that gets awful messy
She calls him L'il Daddy, a fact she could have spared me

Omigawd! This just can't be, my heart begins to sink
We raised her to be better, what will the neighbors think?
Her gal-pal flashed the crowd, is that fuzz a merkin mink?
A beer ain't near to what I need, I'm going to fix a drink

When I return, Jerry sternly asks her why she's cheating
True love is here to stay, he says, passion is so fleeting
The midget swears he doesn't care about her flagrant meetings
Some pics he takes of them are sent as Christmas greetings

Some smart-ass in the crowd has the nerve to call her plump
Security has to hold her back before off the stage she jumps
Is this the same sweet little girl we nursed through the mumps,
Who just told the tiny toad for a dwarf he has been dumped?

I mix a double bloody mary to the final thoughts of Springer
So blue was I, it took some time to hear the telephone's ringer
It was daughter dear, calling about a big diamond on her finger
She and the dwarf had a plane to catch, so she could not linger

She's on her own, I told myself, and far too old to scold
I listened and my spirits soared; the closing credits scrolled
Her beau had made big money, when shortcomings.com he sold
Now we're rich because a midget's bitch went on the Springer show

The Demon Tide

It's twenty minutes to midnight,
Mother, be sure to lock the door
Keep the children from the windows,
Though they've seen it all before 
The demon tide is rising fast, 
It overruns the land once more

It rolls with quiet, ominous force
So slow it's hard to trace its course
Did this arise from river or coast?
How many victories does it now boast?
How many of us know nobody close
who's suffered? A handful, at most

Shapeless shifting fills the gaps
Where grows the foreign menace
It leaves its mark in blackest dark
When senses are not at their best
It feeds on fear in all its forms,
This tide of dreadful strangeness

No demon tide shall drown this land
Nor wave of strangeness bring an end
to what we fought for way back when
Against the onslaught we will stand
Make this land safe, and free again
We'll stem this tide, anyway we can

We are sitting here in eastern New Orleans, waiting for a mean nor'wester to blow through before heading east in its wake. I don't mind a day or two of standing by, but any more than that makes the hitch seem more like two months than two weeks. I have actually run the boat only 2 1/2 days out of the last 8, and this trip be draggin'!

Right now, Chad, our sole deckhand until Friday, and I are studiously ignoring each other as we stare into our respective screens. We are listening to music that he is accessing from Youtube; not a single song so far was first aired after his birth. Credence, Stones, Otis, Sam Cooke, The Who. He's a good lad. The songs he has chosen to play are subtly influencing my thoughts as I put finger to keyboard:

{Bad Moon Rising}
I just read an article from an English newspaper on Lovegrove's site that put into words my thoughts and feelings on the failures of the Obama administration. Thanks to his corporate pandering (Obama's, not Lovegrove's), the Republicans are about re-take the House of Representatives and possibly even the Senate. I rail against the stupidity of the American voter, but, in reality, they are not presented with any better choice than Mick Jagger's 'cancer or polio'. The trouble is, the corporations win, no matter which side controls Congress. The Tea Party is funded by corporate interests, and its platform reflects this:

{Willie and The Poorboys}
1)Privatizing social security, which would give the brokerages a phenomenal amount of new business, and remove the security from from this social safety net.

{Fortunate Son}
2) Institutionalizing anti-muslim sentiments-There is a lot of bullshit out there concerning Sharia law. The fact is, that some banks have created divisions that conform to the Islamic practice of Not charging interest, replacing it with upfront fees. There are also certain provisions that mandate a greater asset/loan ratio than our regular banks are required to carry. In this recent recession, sharia-oriented banks have suffered far less than the gambling joints that our financial institutions resemble.

Also, one needs to keep in mind that having a Muslim majority, which situation we are far from , does not lead to the automatic installation of Sharia law in a country. A simple look at the make-up of the governments of Egypt, Morocco, Indonesia, Turkey, Pakistan, and many others shows this; all the aforementioned are republics with universal suffrage and religious freedom mandated by their respective constitutions.

{Mony, Mony}
3) Tax cuts for the wealthy- Business profits more from tax-based spending on infrastructure and other services(police patrols, firefighting, deductions for capital investment, etc.) than the average tax-payer, yet they pay less. This is topsy-turvy and needs to be addressed by easing the tax burden on those who an least afford it. It only makes sense, the more discretionary income a family has, the more shiny objects they can buy, thus making everybody happy, except those who only sit back, clip coupons and lament that they don't have even more money.  

4)Tax cuts for the wealthy- I just put it twice, because it is such an important part of the Tea-Party agenda. What are these idiots thinking? That they will be one of the rich one day, and by god, no one is gonna live off the money they will (never) make except theirs truly, that's what! And you will never make it, friend, because the big guys you worship aren't going to let you. They will keep your wages low, and send your job overseas if you bitch too much. Wal-Mart did more to destroy small business in this country, with predatory pricing, than any tax ever did.

{Tangled Up In Blue}
5) Repeal the Health Bill- I am ambivalent on this one; It does little for me until 2014, and little more even then. Maybe we should start over....just not with these ignorant corporate-worshipping jerks in charge. (Let's hang on, to what we've got!  Franki Valli & the 4 Seasons, Chad hasn't played that song but the sentiment fits.)

{No More Mr. Nice Guy}
6)Did I mention tax cuts for the wealthy?

{Show Me The Way}
I am tacking straight into the wind here; it looks as if we are facing a repeat of the Bush years, only squared or possibly cubed. Regular folks will just have to button up their coats and brace themselves for another 6-12 years of oligarchic thinking and racial intolerance. Yes, racial intolerance; Tea Partiers pretend to be unbiased, but the make-up of their rallies gives proof to the lie, if there is a black or brown face, it is for show(think Alan Keyes) or the result of a tanning booth. Brown shirts are more suitable to their rhetoric.

{Hurricane[the Dylan Song, not Neil's]}
The wind is coming from the west now. It will gradually shift around, coming more from the north and increasing to 20-25 knots(23-28 statute mph). Temperatures are expected drop by 20°. {Button Up Your Overcoat}

....and other recession-oriented t-shirt slogans and bumper stickers

Omar Khadr has confessed to numerous crimes during his incarceration. It was a smart move, as he was threatened with gang rape if he did not. He was also deprived of sleep, slapped around, kept naked and cold for days at a time, and possibly tortured, as if all the previous items were not torture to a 15 year-old boy.

Two days ago, he was brought in front of a military magistrate, where a military prosecutor read off a series of charges, to all of which the now 24 year-old pled 'guilty'. It was a smart move; had he gone to trial, the court would have heard his forced confessions read out loud, as a judge in the country in which the 15 year-old had been imprisoned decided that forced confessions are okay. He would have faced life in prison had he gone to trial, under a plea bargain, the young man confesses, spends another year in Guantanamo Bay, and then seven years in Canadian prisons.

Yes, this gross miscarriage of justice was miscarried out by the good ol' USA, and I have never been more ashamed to be an American.

Omar was the son of a friend and ally of Osama Bin Laden. At the age of 12, he was already training to fight in Pakistan. At the age of 15, he, his father, and his uncle were in Afghanistan when the US invaded. The house they staying in came under attack by Us forces, and was bombed into rubble. Khadr survived, though he was wounded, and threw a grenade at the troops who were entering the house, thinking the inhabitants all dead. An American soldier was killed, and Khadr was shot and severely wounded. He was taken prisoner and his status as 'enemy combatant ensured that he was not treated according to the Geneva Convention.

If Khadr had, at the age of 15, killed his father for being grounded, he would be most likely be free today. He killed in self-defense during a battle. It was war, and POW's aren't supposed to be tried for killing the enemy during conflict. Nor are we supposed to coerce confessions out of people, but we did.

I voted for Obama, but I may as well have voted for George W Bush to serve a third term, if this is the sort of justice he endorses.  President Obama, if you don't pardon Khadr or commute his sentence, you will have participated in the Soviet bloc-ing of America.

Oh, by the way, the military commissions have succeeded in garnering 3 convictions so far. In regular US courts, 400 terrorists have been convicted in the same time frame.

You want to read about what this kid was put through? Click here, but it ain't pretty. Hey whaddya expect? We're talking about America here.

I would have no problem with the proverbial new, uncorrupted Senator
riding into DC on the back of a mule. But when the ass turns out to be
the newly elected official, as in the case of  'Uncle Bud'....

-- Keith Olbermann, on Countdown, November 3rd, 2010

"...and to The Media's claim that I only supported airheaded, clueless
women who are unfit for office, I campaigned for 'Uncle Bud', didn't I?
(points fingers, winks) Gotcha there, media!"

--ex-Gov.(AK) Sarah Palin

Overheard at a Victory rally
"..Really, you call the winner in each race, no matter what
party? ....That's real sportin' of you Mr. President....well, thanks
again, and let's have us one of those beer summits after the fuss is
over....you done your homework, sir, I do like the purified spirits,
that is true,..see you at the Impeachment, just a joke...sir.(hangs up)
That was the President, calling me! And to think, only a few weeks ago...

( ( ( ( ( ( ( ( ( ( ( ( (
 ) ) ) ) ) ) ) ) ) ) ) ) )
( ( ( ( ( ( ( ( ( ( ( ( (

Announcer: ...And in tonight's Man Off the Street segment, Uncle Bud is
going to show our audience the steps one must take in order to run for
office. If Uncle Bud can do it, then you can too. Isn't that right,
Uncle Bud?

{switch from street camera to inside local gov't office}

Uncle Bud: What business is it of yours who I affiliate with, young feller? You
temp with the FBI or something?

Clerk: Sir, I mean your Party affiliation. Democrat(Bud holds his nose),
Republican, or Independent, perhaps.

Uncle Bud(seeing he is on the air again): Oh Hi folks, Uncle Bud here,
to let you know the steps one has to take before getting your hands on
our tax money, or, in other words, how to run for office. We live in a
state with no filing fees(In a stage whisper) now don't go tellin' the
gub'mint, they would fix that oversight in one big hurry.
Behind the counter here is Sandy, who has been assisting me in the
process. So Sandy, all I do is sign here, here, initial here, here...

Clerk: Sanjay, Mr. Bud. And yes, once you have signed these, and you get
10,000 signatures, you are a candidate for the office of US Senator from
the state of...

Cameraman: Bud, don't sign those, we are just supposed to demonstrate
how easy...

Uncle Bud: Sanjay? That's Indian, right?

Clerk: Yes, I am son of immigrants. (Sees Uncle Bud's raised eyebrow)
Legal immigrants, I might add.

Uncle Bud: So what's that about? We haven't outsourced enough jobs to
India, they gotta send ya'll here to InSource the rest of our jobs?

Clerk: Sir, I was born here! This is my country!

Uncle Bud: Yeah, one generation, and you own the place. Ain't nuthin' in
the Constitution okayin' that!

Clerk: Actually,....

Uncle Bud: Don't interrupt me, son. Respect your elders. That's the
trouble with America today.

Clerk: My elders, I respect. You are an old coot, and I pray to the Gods
that there are not 10000 people in the state stupid enough to....

Quote from People magazine:
...When he was awakened from a nap and informed of his victory,
Uncle Bud said, "Call the bar, start me a tab."

( ( ( ( ( ( ( ( ( ( (
 ) ) ) ) ) ) ) ) ) ) )
( ( ( ( ( ( ( ( ( ( (

Uncle Bud:...And now the President calls me Senator! You people are
gonna be proud of me, I'm gonna change your lives. We're gonna drive out
the communists, the unions, the communist unions, and the socialists,
and the, and the...Look! It's Jimmy, my manager. Hey Jimmyyyyee! We did
it! Now what! (Uncle Bud spits out a laugh and staggers towards Jimmy).

Jimmy: You're undoing it Uncle Bud, is what. This is the wrong hall, and you
you just called a bunch of Teamsters communists. Oh hell, Uncle Bud how are
you going to give a speech in this condition?

Uncle Bud: It's Senator Bud now, get me one for the road, son. Hey, can
I start a war with India, get our damn jobs back?

Jimmy: (sighs) I'll get right on it, Uncle Bud.

* for previous adventures with Uncle Bud click here

I took some pictures this morning, when I was on the salt mine run. We'll get to those in a moment, after I clear some of the clutter on my hard-drive....

The Cochrane Bridge, in Mobile, Alabama,
always looks at its best at night.

 
St. Andrews State Park, Panama City Beach, Florida

 
I hope to one day get a clearer shot of one of these beautiful bugs.

 
I was lucky to get this shot. Dolphin monsters are very camera-averse.
Seconds after I took this shot, it it attacked and fed ravenously on this unfortunate man

The Judson B works at a fleet above the Cochrane Bridge.

The fog lifted after sun-up, and I saw how close I came to hitting this inset

I love this reflection

 
An old fuel dock, now an abandoned relic, this barge is sitting on the bottom.

 more reflections...

 
Do you see a pattern emerging?

 
Jack-up boats,  all jacked up

 I love these flowers

Dragonflies were all over the barges this summer

I am still looking for one picture of an iridescent blue butterfly, and one of an Osprey in flight; these will have to do for now...

Walkway at Meaher State Park, Mobile Bay, Al.

 Hummingbird at Ricky's feeder

 
Butterfly at Meaher

 
Morning glories

Ageratum, growing on the trail at Meaher

 
Wal-Mart has greeters, so why can't we? This guy inhabits a bromeliad on our front porch

 I'm ready for my close-up, Mr. DeMille

 
Sunset south of Morgan City, Louisiana

Land ho!

I empty the trenchwater from my boots, dry socks but a memory
Dean peers over the top, sits down in the mud, lets out a last sigh
The medic's team drags him away, south, where other friends lie.
I wonder if he saw the bullet before it blew away his left eye?

"It's your unit now, Sarge", the lieutenant says as he slouches past,
"Tell your men, we go over the top in ten. Stay low, fire, move fast." 
Ma, I made sergeant. Tell Sis and Davey, tell the priest after mass.
In my pocket I feel Susie's last letter, in which she finally said, "Yes!".

"Tell the boys at the shop, your students at school. Tell Pa in his grave.
Has Prince caught that rabbit? Tell Susie how much her letters I crave.
I will come back to you, one and all, when I am through acting brave.
Dim figures beside me add new shades of gray, the night has become day.

I want to sleep in a warm bed again, and wear a new shirt, one made of silk.
But today I may die. If so, make it quick. I've no wish to die slowly nor sick.
"Fix bayonets!" My first command. "Shoot or stab the boche and their ilk.
Let this thirsty French soil drink Hun blood the way an infant sucks milk."

"I'm scared, Sarge." "Me too", I reply. "Those not scared have already died."
"Got mit uns!" A guttural cry from men like us, though on the wrong side.
They're as ready as we are, we both have our orders, both have our pride.  
It's time; "Over the top!" We scramble up out of the trenches, into the fight.

I hi-jacked Melfamy's weblog so I

could say

HAPPY BIRTHDAY 

to the love of my life!