June 21, 2010

  • Another Side of the Chelsea

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

     

    drydock at Kody Marine
     6 a.m.--waiting for the shipyard guys to lower the dydock

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

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

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

    21945 
    What're you people looking at? Expecting more? Look, here's how much more there is... Zip! Now g'wan, git!

     

     

June 16, 2010

  • If I'm Funny, Blame it on the Folks

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

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

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

    ________________________________

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

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

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

    ________________________________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    ___________________________________

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

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

June 15, 2010

  • Ask Lemmy Telya

    Free advice dispensed freely, just

    LEMMY TELYA

    Dear Lemmy.

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

                                                                    Trekkie to the core

    Dear Trekkie,

    You are both still virgins, aren't you?

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

    Dear Lemmy,

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

                                             Desperately numb to it all

     

    Dear Desperate,

    Yeah, probably

     

    Dear Lemmy,

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

                                                        Tentative testifier

    Dear Tentative,

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

     

    Dear Dr. Telya,

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

                                                                     Worried Son in Dayton,

    Dear Worried Son,

    Please, call me Lemmy.

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

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

     

June 11, 2010

  • Add Inches To YOUR Deck!...Details Below!

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

    on deck with Mck and Memuna 
    Memonah, Msk and myself, making an appearance for the masses

    patio 13.5 x 13.5 
    Hello, you masses, you

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

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

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

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

    miles vants to be left alone
     It's called still-hunting. Now go away!

June 7, 2010

  • Pelican Pictures

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

    Img_3228

    pelicans on green beacon many pelicans many more pelicans Img_3344 Img_3171 Img_3267 Img_3170

    Good luck, fellas

  • Dr. Seuss, Call Your Lawyer

    That Darned Cat
    The Cat Under the Hat

    Untitled 

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

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

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

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

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

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

June 4, 2010

  • Barry, Maybe You Shoulda Skipped The Sing-A-Long...

    The Obamas hosted a party for Paul McCartney the other night....
    s-OBAMAS-SINGING-large300

     

     

    Meanwhile, back at the Gulf....
    s-OIL-BIRD-large300
    800 dead animals have been found so far.
     My guess is that 75-80% of carcasses will never be found.
    You simply must try the swedish meatballs, Mr. President.

     

     

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

    Headline: Sarah Palin Blames Environmentalists For Oil Leak
    s-SARAH-PALIN-large300
    "...your protests and lawsuits and lies about onshore and shallow water drilling have locked up safer areas. It's catching up with you. The tragic, unprecedented deep water Gulf oil spill proves it."

    Wait!
    There's more!

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

     

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

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

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

     

     

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

June 1, 2010

  • Oil Is Not Well

    Slick Rappin'

    I'm in plain white wrapping
    no hip-hoppin' rapper, but you see
    some things that're happenin'
    merit words that're snappin',
    poppin', crisp and cracklin'
    when you're verbal bitch-slappin'
    the C-E-O of ol' British-P

    Greedy man, you had no damn plan 'til
    the ocean with crude you filled
    from the wave tops to the bottom
    spin doctors? you got'em,
    on every screen you see'em,
    takin'every precaution, with artful tact
    to not reveal any awkward facts
    about doping inspectors into having your back
    and paying congressmen to give you some slack
    in the safety rules.

    How much jack is that, to make a man turn his back
    on his country and planet, his honor and duty too;
    how much money would it take for you?
    or would you do it to keep the octane flowing
    and your own guzzler filled, the pump line going
    three dollar gallons, or four or five, seven or nine
    The gulf will fix its own self in time
    Said the suits from Europe, and gas dropped a quarter
    thousands topped their tanks at one of BP's corners.

    In the mountains a tall man watches with glee
    As in our need we do his work for free
    no suit bombs, no shoe bombs, no video'd screed
    could equal the harm caused by our energy greed.

                                      Peace.
     
                                    MC Captain G

May 22, 2010

  • Uncle Bud Tries Social Networking

    Welcome to FaceTime©    
              Uncle Bud! *           

     

    UncleBud hates getting an e-mail that contains a mildly amusing, clever joke, followed by instructions on how to laugh, live, dance, etc. Next time, jerk(s), just send the damned joke. You can embroider the pollyanna crap on the hem of your nightgown, for all I care. If I want to laugh like a baby getting his feet tickled, dance like I'm barefoot on a swami's King-size, live like nunya bizness, I'll freaking do it. And I haven't had any serious complaints about my etc. in years.
    May 22, 4:34 p.m.

    UncleBudjust corked a batch of squeezins',It's going for the usual asking price. If you're wantin' some, click 'likes this', and come by my place after six, and I don't mean Farmville.
    May 22, 4:57 p.m.

    UncleBudA rig blows up, a well blows out, and BP can't wait for this to all blow over. Who should get that one, Leno or Letterman?
    may 22, 6:13 p.m.

    UncleBudhas joined the group TheTea Party Isn't Far Enough To The Right for Me
    May 22, 6:35 p.m.

    UncleBudcommented on luvsoldermen469's wall...

    "You're a bad, bad girl, and Uncle Bud wants to spank you real bad."
    May 22 9:53 p.m.

    UncleBudcommented on luvsoldermen469's wall...

    "Well, how do you make a message private?"
    May 22 10:02 p.m.

    UncleBudhas joined the group "Whiskey Taxes Are A Socialist Tool"
    May 22, 11:17 p.m.

    UncleBudwants to see Obama's baby pictures. Bet there's lions and tigers and grass huts in the background, if you get my drift.
    May 23, 12:24 p.m.

    UncleBudwants to know why search engines have such stupid names ...Goggle, yeehaw, boing. I'm a grown man! I want to use a search engine that don't make me feel like an old man alone in a Chucky Cheese. Something scientific like lookupatron, or factocumulator.
    May 23, 1:41

     

    *For previous encounters with Uncle Bud, click here

May 19, 2010

May 17, 2010

  • If We Don't Come To Our Senses...

    From the sci-fi poetry department......so far

     

     

    AFTER THE THIRD BLOW-OUT

    Another dead whale drifted into the bay
    Thats three this week, it's only Tuesday.
    The scientists said there was a baby inside
    Our very last hope for a species just died.

    A lightning flash struck the oil offshore
    and soon the sea was aflame once more
    I always liked having the beach to myself
    I got my wish when greed killed the Gulf

    We waded to our ankles where the water was clean
    My boy laughed with delight when he saw the sheen
    "Colors are funny, Daddy." He said with a grin
    But all I could see was the way it had been.

    Don't step on the tar, son, let's not anger your Mom
    And if your eyes start to burn, it's time to move on.
    We'll stop at the museum on our way back to the city
    Look at the old pictures, from when this was pretty.

    "It's pretty now, Daddy. Daddy, please don't cry."
    But I couldn't help it, tears flowed from my eyes.
    And I thought, absurdly, if we could cry enough tears,
    they might clean the beaches, in a few thousand years.

    But nothing can bring back the pelicans low soaring
    the ones in the zoo find their new life quite boring
    Sand dollars and scallops, the dolphin's clean dive
    only  such memories now keep my old gulf alive.
     

     

     

May 13, 2010

  • Had A Nice Little Visit

    This Red-Winged Blackbird landed on the railing in front of the wheelhouse shortly after noon today. When I shifted gears, the noise spooked him, and he took off. We've had other birds rest on the railing before, but he is the coolest by far.

    red-yellow winged blackbird on boat

    red-yellow winged blackbird on boat2

     

    red-yellow winged blackbird on boat3

    Anvil110pound
    I had a joke to go with this picture, something about confusing anvils with Advils™,
     but it must have been forgettable.

    Img_2081 
    I may have posted this picture before. If so, making its second appearance..

May 10, 2010

  • He Played for His City

     

    The street emptied for dinner, the saxman stayed
    though few stopped to listen, and fewer still paid
    Stick-figure frame leaned against the old wall
    he drained the spit-valve, and polished the bell.

    He left the case open for any dropped coin
    but it wasn't the money that kept him going.
    It was the city he loved for whom he played
    In that magic hour between night and day

    From balconies above he felt Louis' stare
    King Oliver's smile, Bechet's hard glare
    he took a deep breath, put the reed to his lips
    And with talent and passion, blew his city a kiss

    A flowering vine of sound climbed the walls
    traced iron grills, caressed broken windows
    with scents of love, passion, and musk
    real jazz filled the street just before dusk

    He riffed on slaves and cotton and voodoo, too
    Bordellos and speakeasies mixed into the roux.
    Smuggling and muggings and hurricane terror
    were a part of his jazz's unique, spicy flavor.

    No one's seen him in years, some say he's gone
    Some say he changed hats, and mows other's lawns
    Listen close though, at the end of the day
    on a street in Tremé, you may hear him play.

May 7, 2010

  • Arguing the Fifth

    Sid Caesar and Nanette Fabray did this in one take, no overdubs, over 50 years ago...


    How many comics performing today could pull this off?

May 6, 2010