While looking for a picture of Mary, Bruce and Lee mentioned in my previous entry last night - I found this picture of a friendly Troll which I had taken while visiting Norway.
Happy Halloween!
Friday, October 31, 2008
Happy Halloween!
What's this? Intense Guy with or without his costume on?!
While looking for a picture of Mary, Bruce and Lee mentioned in my previous entry last night - I found this picture of a friendly Troll which I had taken while visiting Norway.
Happy Halloween!
While looking for a picture of Mary, Bruce and Lee mentioned in my previous entry last night - I found this picture of a friendly Troll which I had taken while visiting Norway.
Happy Halloween!
Mental Images - Part 3
I attended a small engineering collage called Rose-Hulman Institute of Technology located on the outskirts of Terre Haute, Indiana. This college was named after Chauncey Rose the college founder and an early and very successful business person in Terre Haute and Anton Hulman of Clabber Girl fame and the Indy 500 racetrack owner. Being located in the Midwest, Rose was a long way from home - too far from home for me to go home for weekends, which is what most of my classmates did. So as soon as I could, I got a car so I wasn't marooned on campus alone for the weekend.
A couple guys I knew were also stuck on campus; Lee, who was from Phoenix, Arizona, and Bruce, who was from the southern Indiana town of Evansville located on the Ohio River across from Kentucky. Both Lee and Bruce were my weekend buddies as well as study partners. One wintry Friday afternoon we all piled into my car - the same one that I later had pulled out of the ditch - and headed to E-ville, as the natives called it. E-ville wasn't known for much back then other than Maytag dishwashers. Likewise, a certain person some of us know named Tiff, hadn't even allegedly been born yet.
We had a good time, relaxing in Bruce's parent's farmhouse and enjoying ourselves doing some farm chores and also enjoying some real down on the farm cooking. Bruce's mother's homemade chocolate chip cookies were so good, I remember them today. Time passed quickly and when we awoke Sunday morning, a blizzard had settled in and many inches of snow were predicted before it stopped falling.
The three of us consulted each other and decided to head back to Terre Haute immediately since Rose-Hulman had never in a hundred years closed because of snow - so Monday morning we had to be there for classes. The car was quickly packed with clean freshly done laundry (we did our own thank you) and a couple brown bags - one with more chocolate cookies and one with some clothes for Bruce's sister Mary who was attending Indiana State University (ISU) which is also located in Terre Haute.
The drive was truly miserable. What normally took about 2 hours to drive, took us 4 and an 1/2 hours. We ended up following a snowplow truck for much of the way as the snow piles were well over two feet deep in the middle of the road already and the snow still falling so heavily nothing could be seen out the fogged up windows except endless whiteness and the flashing yellow light on the plow truck.
We drove on, Bruce and I taking turns at the wheel. Lee had never driven in snow before, so we thought now wasn't the best time to learn how! The whole while we were thinking we had class the next day since college had never closed in hundred years.
At long last we got to ISU and located a place to park about 5 blocks away from the dorm building Mary was living in - and this was was as close as we we could get. We took the two brown bags and trudged waist deep in snow to the door and went up some dozen or more floors to the room that Mary shared with 3 other young women.
Bruce knocked on the door and Mary opened it. Once again there is no need for me to have had film and a camera. I can still see her dressed in white PJ's looking at the three of us guys covered in steaming sweat from the stairs and having wet white snow melting off our jackets holding a couple brown bags. She had the HUGEST, impish-pixie like smile on her face, and she immediately shouted out, "There is NO school tomorrow for you guys!! Come on in and join the party!!"
When the snow finally stopped falling a couple hours later, we left with our fill of chocolate chip cookies and got back to our rooms at Rose.
Later that year the three of us, and the four young ladies would go see Larry Bird, who would lead ISU Sycamores to the NCAA Championships in 1979, practice foul shots in the field house. Funny thing is, I can't remember much about what he looked like - I could have used a camera for that. I do remember seeing him make literally hundreds of consecutive foul shots.
A couple guys I knew were also stuck on campus; Lee, who was from Phoenix, Arizona, and Bruce, who was from the southern Indiana town of Evansville located on the Ohio River across from Kentucky. Both Lee and Bruce were my weekend buddies as well as study partners. One wintry Friday afternoon we all piled into my car - the same one that I later had pulled out of the ditch - and headed to E-ville, as the natives called it. E-ville wasn't known for much back then other than Maytag dishwashers. Likewise, a certain person some of us know named Tiff, hadn't even allegedly been born yet.
We had a good time, relaxing in Bruce's parent's farmhouse and enjoying ourselves doing some farm chores and also enjoying some real down on the farm cooking. Bruce's mother's homemade chocolate chip cookies were so good, I remember them today. Time passed quickly and when we awoke Sunday morning, a blizzard had settled in and many inches of snow were predicted before it stopped falling.
The three of us consulted each other and decided to head back to Terre Haute immediately since Rose-Hulman had never in a hundred years closed because of snow - so Monday morning we had to be there for classes. The car was quickly packed with clean freshly done laundry (we did our own thank you) and a couple brown bags - one with more chocolate cookies and one with some clothes for Bruce's sister Mary who was attending Indiana State University (ISU) which is also located in Terre Haute.
The drive was truly miserable. What normally took about 2 hours to drive, took us 4 and an 1/2 hours. We ended up following a snowplow truck for much of the way as the snow piles were well over two feet deep in the middle of the road already and the snow still falling so heavily nothing could be seen out the fogged up windows except endless whiteness and the flashing yellow light on the plow truck.
We drove on, Bruce and I taking turns at the wheel. Lee had never driven in snow before, so we thought now wasn't the best time to learn how! The whole while we were thinking we had class the next day since college had never closed in hundred years.
At long last we got to ISU and located a place to park about 5 blocks away from the dorm building Mary was living in - and this was was as close as we we could get. We took the two brown bags and trudged waist deep in snow to the door and went up some dozen or more floors to the room that Mary shared with 3 other young women.
Bruce knocked on the door and Mary opened it. Once again there is no need for me to have had film and a camera. I can still see her dressed in white PJ's looking at the three of us guys covered in steaming sweat from the stairs and having wet white snow melting off our jackets holding a couple brown bags. She had the HUGEST, impish-pixie like smile on her face, and she immediately shouted out, "There is NO school tomorrow for you guys!! Come on in and join the party!!"
When the snow finally stopped falling a couple hours later, we left with our fill of chocolate chip cookies and got back to our rooms at Rose.
Later that year the three of us, and the four young ladies would go see Larry Bird, who would lead ISU Sycamores to the NCAA Championships in 1979, practice foul shots in the field house. Funny thing is, I can't remember much about what he looked like - I could have used a camera for that. I do remember seeing him make literally hundreds of consecutive foul shots.
Thursday, October 30, 2008
NASCAR #4
In view of how well LadyStyx is doing with her stationary bike riding - I thought I'd paint one up in NASCAR racer style to present to her as an award.
Introducing Car #4 - sponsored by Van Ness Doggy Baggies and OCHA #4!
I intended to make this is the first ever Keep On Keepin' On! award but in view of the sponsorship, it's going to be called the Keep On Going! award.
Oh, and by the way, there is the big honking AHHH-OOOOOO-GA horn on this bike if the neighbors and/or Kyle Busch don't behave as well as a smoke generator for creating realistic "burn outs".
Mental Images - Part 2
Ditches. They lurk everywhere. Along the sides of roads and in fields. Recently, I heard Punkn explaining why she didn't like them much. I am very glad Punkn survived her misadventure with a ditch with only bruises. Once more I was reminded of a time where it "could have been a Kodak moment."
A year or two out of college, about thirty years ago now, I was driving down a gravel road late one very dark night; it was either moonless or overcast and my old car's headlights barely penetrated the darkness of the remote area of strip-mined southern Indiana. The road was a mere car and half wide and the gravel surface covered with coal dust - I had been driving for hours.
While memory doesn't serve to tell me where I was going, I do remember needing to use the "little boy's room" - There was only one light to be seen as far as I could see in any direction about half a mile away on the porch of a farmhouse. I had seen no cars for hours on end, so I figured I'd just pull over a little and just stop there in the middle of the road. I opened the door and stepped out into the darkest night I think I've ever seen - and down, down I went as if I had stepped into an elevator shaft. I barely had the presence of mind to grab the chrome-plated threshold of the bottom of the car door and dangled there - I could feel nothing below my feet.
As it turned out, I had stopped just short of an intersection along side a ditch that was about 8 or 9 feet deep. The tires on the driver's side of the car were half-on and half-off the crumbly edge of the loose gravel road. While I hung there hoping my night vision would show me something, anything at all; I heard the front tire slowly crunching and sliding and finally it slipped off the edge of the road - leaving the wheel hanging suspended over the ditch and the frame of the car resting on the road.
I will never forget what little I could see in the dim light of the round overhead interior dome light - the car door opened, the driver seat above my head, the gleam from the worn spots on the steering wheel, and my hand holding on to the bottom of the door frame. No camera or film needed. I eventually collected my wits, and hand over hand, pulled myself back into the car where I found the car was completely stuck. I climbed on through the car, went out the other side, and walked toward the dim porch light making very, very sure my foot hit something solid before I went onwards.
At long last I got to the front door of the farm and knocked, a plaid-shirted farmer opened the door and after I told him my tale of woe, he simply said, "Come 'round back." I guess I was a bit soiled or perhaps had even soiled my... umm... well, anyway, I got around back and the farmer had fired up his tractor and told me to get on. We rode back to the car where he chained up the back bumper to the tractor and pulled the car back onto the road. I offered him all the what little money I had and he refused, saying, "Just bein' neighborly, 'spect you'd do the same fer me if need be."
So when Alice Kay posted that song titled "That's A Man" by Jack Ingram - that's why I said what I did, about respecting farmers - like this one farmer that quietly lived in the middle of nowhere - but worthy of respect.
A year or two out of college, about thirty years ago now, I was driving down a gravel road late one very dark night; it was either moonless or overcast and my old car's headlights barely penetrated the darkness of the remote area of strip-mined southern Indiana. The road was a mere car and half wide and the gravel surface covered with coal dust - I had been driving for hours.
While memory doesn't serve to tell me where I was going, I do remember needing to use the "little boy's room" - There was only one light to be seen as far as I could see in any direction about half a mile away on the porch of a farmhouse. I had seen no cars for hours on end, so I figured I'd just pull over a little and just stop there in the middle of the road. I opened the door and stepped out into the darkest night I think I've ever seen - and down, down I went as if I had stepped into an elevator shaft. I barely had the presence of mind to grab the chrome-plated threshold of the bottom of the car door and dangled there - I could feel nothing below my feet.
As it turned out, I had stopped just short of an intersection along side a ditch that was about 8 or 9 feet deep. The tires on the driver's side of the car were half-on and half-off the crumbly edge of the loose gravel road. While I hung there hoping my night vision would show me something, anything at all; I heard the front tire slowly crunching and sliding and finally it slipped off the edge of the road - leaving the wheel hanging suspended over the ditch and the frame of the car resting on the road.
I will never forget what little I could see in the dim light of the round overhead interior dome light - the car door opened, the driver seat above my head, the gleam from the worn spots on the steering wheel, and my hand holding on to the bottom of the door frame. No camera or film needed. I eventually collected my wits, and hand over hand, pulled myself back into the car where I found the car was completely stuck. I climbed on through the car, went out the other side, and walked toward the dim porch light making very, very sure my foot hit something solid before I went onwards.
At long last I got to the front door of the farm and knocked, a plaid-shirted farmer opened the door and after I told him my tale of woe, he simply said, "Come 'round back." I guess I was a bit soiled or perhaps had even soiled my... umm... well, anyway, I got around back and the farmer had fired up his tractor and told me to get on. We rode back to the car where he chained up the back bumper to the tractor and pulled the car back onto the road. I offered him all the what little money I had and he refused, saying, "Just bein' neighborly, 'spect you'd do the same fer me if need be."
So when Alice Kay posted that song titled "That's A Man" by Jack Ingram - that's why I said what I did, about respecting farmers - like this one farmer that quietly lived in the middle of nowhere - but worthy of respect.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Post #501 - Mental Images - Part 1
A few days ago, I got a much appreciated e-mail from ChicagoLady that brought a smile to my face.
After reading it, and thinking about it for a moment, an event that happened over 30 years ago quickly entered my mind and just about as quickly it left, leaving only a mental image. As LadyStyx might have said, "It could of been a Kodak moment," but sometimes we don't need the camera and the film for something to "stick in our heads" for a long, long time.
The e-mail began:
'Twas the Day After Christmas - "On the gridger board, align the zagenator, whindler and biceptor units 2.725 inches apart."
by NED CRABB
The following instructions, coffee-stained and torn, were found in a box amid a jumble of tools and mechanical parts on the sidewalk outside a Manhattan apartment building along with discarded trees and other holiday trash. Just visible inside the box was a gift tag that read "Merry Christmas to Johnny. Love, Mom and Dad."
Congratulations! You are the lucky owner of the Model ZVZ156 Vangplotz High-Digenation Wide-Scringe Framulator, Series 7000, with fernillated quick-response WorzelT and 20,000 zurlebytes of scringe-view quorms. Follow these simple instructions and soon you will enjoy untold hours of pleasure.
IMPORTANT: Begin by lifting out the plune-wrapped section marked "Lithinode Distrillitor" and refer to the blue-colored picrochit-regulator intensity chart on the side. If the chart has the fuchsia-colored code BRZ3434, your unit requires an AC4(x2z3) power influrger. Extract the influrger pack from the distrillitor's surge-protection splange and check the code. If you have an AC5(x3z4) influrger instead of an AC4(x2z3) model, or if the intensity chart is colored burnt orange instead of blue, then call your local Vangplotz "Speedy Geek" home service provider at 1-800-UONHOLD. (WARNING: If the intensity chart is colored silver with pink stripes, then your distrillitor must be activated in person by a Vangplotz lithinode technician within 48 to 72 hours. Vangplotz service centers are conveniently located in the Yellow Dog, Ala., industrial campus and the six-story Grendel Mall-City in Frozen Badger, N.D.)
...and on it went in this vein, listing the needed assembly tools and going into great details for steps 1 and 2 of part 1, where almost mercifully, it left off.
I smiled at the "call your local Vangplotz "Speedy Geek" home service provider" and the "conveniently located in the Yellow Dog, Ala., industrial campus and the six-story Grendel Mall-City in Frozen Badger, N.D." since neither location would be convenient for me, if indeed, these towns actually exist.
This e-mail reminded me of a birthday gift my old next door neighbor got many years ago - he was a really all-round nice, kind, and decent run of the mill guy that sang in his Church's choir every Sunday morning. He served in the Navy as a cook in the south Pacific, married a woman that made his life hard (she was a chronic gossip, hypochondriac and nag), had three girls, and if you ever needed a hand, he was there to lend his - he just wasn't the brightest bulb in the box - but that didn't matter.
His birthday fell on the same day as one of his daughters, so he was often "left out" of the birthday celebration spotlight, but one year his birthday gift from his three daughters was a outdoor Bar-B-Que grill from Sears. It came with "some assembly" required, and the instructions were printed on some badly mimeographed paper and poorly translated from some other language (possibly Chinese) and had hand-drawn sketches of the parts (that only vaguely resembled the real parts) - the assembly instructions were like two or more dozen pages long.
He must of stared at them for a week or two and one day while I was cutting grass out back (I was maybe 12-14 years old at the time and this was one of my chores) he ambled over and asked me if I would mind "looking at this thing he had gotten" to see if it was even possible to assemble it. I guess even then I was a thought of as a "Speedy Geek."
I went over as soon as I finished the lawn - and oh my, the Grill was a hideous shade of brown and had what looked to be 1,000 pieces. He had out a screw driver and set of socket wrenches and had assembled absolutely none of it. I looked at the directions and I must of groaned out loud because he said "Well, that bad?" And I just kind of nodded - he had some assembly instructions for one of his girl's bikes (which has also been a gift that year) mixed in the bunch and that was the page he had started with - anyway I discretely moved the pages around until I had them in the right order (and the ones for the bike at the bottom) and just said something like, "Wow.. this is going to take a while."
And it did... My younger brother and I spent two days assembling this hideously colored BBQ grill (it had an electric motor to turn the spit and all that) and we ended up with 3 dozen parts left over. For a change of pace, I put the girl's bike together on the side when the old guy wasn't hanging around.
He came over to my folks house a week or two after I had assembled the BBQ Grill - knocked on the door and when I opened it, he ducked a bit under the door frame, being quite tall and reached in, shook my hand, gave me a wink, and said, "Thanks for doing the bike - my girl thinks I'm a hero now." I just smiled back and said, "anytime."
I think that BBQ grill sat out back of his place for nearly a decade. It eventually rusted away and if I had to say so, it looked better and better the rustier it got.
No camera or film required, I can still see that bemused, proud, happy, goofy, grin on his face - he wanted so badly to be a great Dad to his girls - and he really was...
After reading it, and thinking about it for a moment, an event that happened over 30 years ago quickly entered my mind and just about as quickly it left, leaving only a mental image. As LadyStyx might have said, "It could of been a Kodak moment," but sometimes we don't need the camera and the film for something to "stick in our heads" for a long, long time.
The e-mail began:
'Twas the Day After Christmas - "On the gridger board, align the zagenator, whindler and biceptor units 2.725 inches apart."
by NED CRABB
The following instructions, coffee-stained and torn, were found in a box amid a jumble of tools and mechanical parts on the sidewalk outside a Manhattan apartment building along with discarded trees and other holiday trash. Just visible inside the box was a gift tag that read "Merry Christmas to Johnny. Love, Mom and Dad."
Congratulations! You are the lucky owner of the Model ZVZ156 Vangplotz High-Digenation Wide-Scringe Framulator, Series 7000, with fernillated quick-response WorzelT and 20,000 zurlebytes of scringe-view quorms. Follow these simple instructions and soon you will enjoy untold hours of pleasure.
IMPORTANT: Begin by lifting out the plune-wrapped section marked "Lithinode Distrillitor" and refer to the blue-colored picrochit-regulator intensity chart on the side. If the chart has the fuchsia-colored code BRZ3434, your unit requires an AC4(x2z3) power influrger. Extract the influrger pack from the distrillitor's surge-protection splange and check the code. If you have an AC5(x3z4) influrger instead of an AC4(x2z3) model, or if the intensity chart is colored burnt orange instead of blue, then call your local Vangplotz "Speedy Geek" home service provider at 1-800-UONHOLD. (WARNING: If the intensity chart is colored silver with pink stripes, then your distrillitor must be activated in person by a Vangplotz lithinode technician within 48 to 72 hours. Vangplotz service centers are conveniently located in the Yellow Dog, Ala., industrial campus and the six-story Grendel Mall-City in Frozen Badger, N.D.)
...and on it went in this vein, listing the needed assembly tools and going into great details for steps 1 and 2 of part 1, where almost mercifully, it left off.
I smiled at the "call your local Vangplotz "Speedy Geek" home service provider" and the "conveniently located in the Yellow Dog, Ala., industrial campus and the six-story Grendel Mall-City in Frozen Badger, N.D." since neither location would be convenient for me, if indeed, these towns actually exist.
This e-mail reminded me of a birthday gift my old next door neighbor got many years ago - he was a really all-round nice, kind, and decent run of the mill guy that sang in his Church's choir every Sunday morning. He served in the Navy as a cook in the south Pacific, married a woman that made his life hard (she was a chronic gossip, hypochondriac and nag), had three girls, and if you ever needed a hand, he was there to lend his - he just wasn't the brightest bulb in the box - but that didn't matter.
His birthday fell on the same day as one of his daughters, so he was often "left out" of the birthday celebration spotlight, but one year his birthday gift from his three daughters was a outdoor Bar-B-Que grill from Sears. It came with "some assembly" required, and the instructions were printed on some badly mimeographed paper and poorly translated from some other language (possibly Chinese) and had hand-drawn sketches of the parts (that only vaguely resembled the real parts) - the assembly instructions were like two or more dozen pages long.
He must of stared at them for a week or two and one day while I was cutting grass out back (I was maybe 12-14 years old at the time and this was one of my chores) he ambled over and asked me if I would mind "looking at this thing he had gotten" to see if it was even possible to assemble it. I guess even then I was a thought of as a "Speedy Geek."
I went over as soon as I finished the lawn - and oh my, the Grill was a hideous shade of brown and had what looked to be 1,000 pieces. He had out a screw driver and set of socket wrenches and had assembled absolutely none of it. I looked at the directions and I must of groaned out loud because he said "Well, that bad?" And I just kind of nodded - he had some assembly instructions for one of his girl's bikes (which has also been a gift that year) mixed in the bunch and that was the page he had started with - anyway I discretely moved the pages around until I had them in the right order (and the ones for the bike at the bottom) and just said something like, "Wow.. this is going to take a while."
And it did... My younger brother and I spent two days assembling this hideously colored BBQ grill (it had an electric motor to turn the spit and all that) and we ended up with 3 dozen parts left over. For a change of pace, I put the girl's bike together on the side when the old guy wasn't hanging around.
He came over to my folks house a week or two after I had assembled the BBQ Grill - knocked on the door and when I opened it, he ducked a bit under the door frame, being quite tall and reached in, shook my hand, gave me a wink, and said, "Thanks for doing the bike - my girl thinks I'm a hero now." I just smiled back and said, "anytime."
I think that BBQ grill sat out back of his place for nearly a decade. It eventually rusted away and if I had to say so, it looked better and better the rustier it got.
No camera or film required, I can still see that bemused, proud, happy, goofy, grin on his face - he wanted so badly to be a great Dad to his girls - and he really was...
Sunday, October 26, 2008
---
"The person who tries to live alone will not succeed as a human being. His heart withers if it does not answer another heart. His mind shrinks away if he hears only the echoes of his own thoughts and finds no other inspiration."
Pearl S. Buck (American author, 1938 Nobel Prize for Literature, 1892-1973)
Saturday, October 25, 2008
Counting Crows? No! Counting Pumpkins!
Yesterday, while taking a lunch break, I enlisted my younger brother to help me with a project. I wanted to walk completely around one block here in the Borough of Lansdale and simply photograph and count pumpkins - The results are as you see below.
Tori - I really wish you could see this - it is a slide show showing 36 pictures each with a pumpkin or two on peoples front lawns, steps, and porches.
My brother reports, for the 27 buildings that we saw in our walk around the block, there were 119 pumpkins - which means there were 4.4 pumpkins per building!
And while we didn't see this one, this is my favorite pumpkin -
Tori - I really wish you could see this - it is a slide show showing 36 pictures each with a pumpkin or two on peoples front lawns, steps, and porches.
My brother reports, for the 27 buildings that we saw in our walk around the block, there were 119 pumpkins - which means there were 4.4 pumpkins per building!
And while we didn't see this one, this is my favorite pumpkin -
Friday, October 24, 2008
Dogs and Doggy Bags
Well since it is getting dark earlier and earlier, I've not much luck capturing the remaining 25 or so dogs on my "Doggies Wanted" list. :)
But I did get one of them. This little guy can bark and bark for hours on end. I was going to crop the picture more closely around him, but then noted all the pumpkins in the background.
Dog #23, Name unknown but I call him Dusty
In order to bring 'what doggies do' under control - the township has put up these signs and doggy bag dispensers in public spaces where people are likely to walk their dogs.
They not only draw an outline of how you are to put your hand into the bag, they give you pretty extensive directions on how to use them.
Pet Pick-ups
"The Responsible Thing to Doo"
Step One: Insert hand into the Pet Pick-Up.
Step Two: Pick up waste.
(What? No details on how firmly to squeeze the hot steaming pile?!)
Step Three: Pull Pet Pick-Up inside out.
Step Four: Invert fold lock top over opening.
Followed by the helpful tip:
For a more convenient package to carry - roll end with waste into flap
And finally end with the admonition:
Please dispose of thoughtfully.
[Begin Andy Rooney-mode here]
I don't know what I'm supposed to be thoughtful of - I probably would be thinking thoughts like, "I wonder how hot this stuff can get?" or "Gosh, I'm glad I don't own a Great Dane or even an elephant!" or even, "What the heck do I do if I'm left-handed????!?"
My final thought was this one though - "How stupid do the local township government folks really think we are that we need these directions??"
[End Andy Rooney-mode here]
But I did get one of them. This little guy can bark and bark for hours on end. I was going to crop the picture more closely around him, but then noted all the pumpkins in the background.
Dog #23, Name unknown but I call him Dusty
In order to bring 'what doggies do' under control - the township has put up these signs and doggy bag dispensers in public spaces where people are likely to walk their dogs.
They not only draw an outline of how you are to put your hand into the bag, they give you pretty extensive directions on how to use them.
Pet Pick-ups
"The Responsible Thing to Doo"
Step One: Insert hand into the Pet Pick-Up.
Step Two: Pick up waste.
(What? No details on how firmly to squeeze the hot steaming pile?!)
Step Three: Pull Pet Pick-Up inside out.
Step Four: Invert fold lock top over opening.
Followed by the helpful tip:
For a more convenient package to carry - roll end with waste into flap
And finally end with the admonition:
Please dispose of thoughtfully.
[Begin Andy Rooney-mode here]
I don't know what I'm supposed to be thoughtful of - I probably would be thinking thoughts like, "I wonder how hot this stuff can get?" or "Gosh, I'm glad I don't own a Great Dane or even an elephant!" or even, "What the heck do I do if I'm left-handed????!?"
My final thought was this one though - "How stupid do the local township government folks really think we are that we need these directions??"
[End Andy Rooney-mode here]
Play It Again, Errr.. Frank!
Someone wearing an award winning Halloween costume...playing the ol' Jazz classic, "I've Got the Stolen Pumpkin Blues" (Apologies to Albert King):
I got the blues 'cause my pumpkin has gone
Oh, I got the blues 'cause my pumpkin has left
They took all of my hard earned money, yeah,
it left with someone else
Cold hearted pumpkin!
Hmm!
Well all right!
The blues can come to you in any shape or form
It can come to you in the shape of a pumpkin,
just like the one that left me alone
Now I got the blues and I'm not ashamed to say
I been tryin' to shake them, each and every day
I got the blues 'cause my pumpkin has left
Well they took all of my money
The big pumpkin left with someone else
I gotta find it....
Thursday, October 23, 2008
A Case For Captial Punishment?
Who amongst us could help but chuckle seeing this huge Jack-O-Lantern? I spotted this one at a doorstep along my way to the Post Office. These Jack-O-Lanterns would look pretty cool wearing sunglasses.
His neighbor across the street, however, is not so happy. His sign says, "Some JERKOFF Stole Our PUMPKINS - $100 Worth!!"
Perhaps only in America when the economy is in the tank - would someone buy or steal $100 worth of essentially useless pumpkins... ...but I will be on the lookout for the stolen goods. Hopefully they were branded with serial numbers or something... Anybody know the phone number for the folks at CSI: Lansdale?
A pumpkin thief deserves capital punishment I think...Perhaps death by "pumpkining"?
Beware all you pumpkin thieves! this could be your fate!
An Explanation
The previous entry was written a long time ago, and in fact predates the Bubba's Tale. Having thought about it some, I believe the title is misleading and inaccurate. There are no between-the-lines meanings of which I am conscious; the writing is vague and allegorical, but not by intention.
As in Bubba's Tale, this story deals with the author's struggles and an attempt to find a way out of a dark place - it is perhaps less open than Bubba's Tale as the author had not yet come to terms with what he had done or what he would do. The meeting with the "Eldest One" was the confused result of "trying to get to heaven" - and the since the attempt failed - the failure was thought to be due to being rejected even by "God" and being sent back... sent back to a place thought to be Hell.
In order to find a meaning and purpose in life, the author did volunteer work, working with a number of people much, much less fortunate than himself. This work was always exhausting, at times perplexing, and occasionally he thought it to be...a form of penitence or the just desserts of being in Hell - rather than being rewarding. Some of those other people are lumped together in the "Other" that makes it out of the storm. Some of the people the author worked with got off drugs, found jobs, and happier places. One of them is even one the Vice Presidents of a very large US corporation, married and now a happy parent of two fine children now entering college. Obviously, not all of the others made their way to a better place but many did. The author has never spoken to any of these people again.
In any event, in each case, the role the author had to play in their lives was minor - but after some years of this volunteer work, he could no longer take "being left behind" and quit.
The previous entry journals this time in his life - and reflects a number of jumbled thoughts badly expressed. To the author, the sense of always being alone when trying to determine right and wrong is one of those jumbled thoughts. The meaning and purpose of life continues to elude the author even to this day. He no longer believes he is living in Hell - and no longer believes helping others to be a form of penitence but rather has found it has it's own intangible rewards.
He doesn't think there is any more to this - and this will be the last of the dark entries.
-The author
As in Bubba's Tale, this story deals with the author's struggles and an attempt to find a way out of a dark place - it is perhaps less open than Bubba's Tale as the author had not yet come to terms with what he had done or what he would do. The meeting with the "Eldest One" was the confused result of "trying to get to heaven" - and the since the attempt failed - the failure was thought to be due to being rejected even by "God" and being sent back... sent back to a place thought to be Hell.
In order to find a meaning and purpose in life, the author did volunteer work, working with a number of people much, much less fortunate than himself. This work was always exhausting, at times perplexing, and occasionally he thought it to be...a form of penitence or the just desserts of being in Hell - rather than being rewarding. Some of those other people are lumped together in the "Other" that makes it out of the storm. Some of the people the author worked with got off drugs, found jobs, and happier places. One of them is even one the Vice Presidents of a very large US corporation, married and now a happy parent of two fine children now entering college. Obviously, not all of the others made their way to a better place but many did. The author has never spoken to any of these people again.
In any event, in each case, the role the author had to play in their lives was minor - but after some years of this volunteer work, he could no longer take "being left behind" and quit.
The previous entry journals this time in his life - and reflects a number of jumbled thoughts badly expressed. To the author, the sense of always being alone when trying to determine right and wrong is one of those jumbled thoughts. The meaning and purpose of life continues to elude the author even to this day. He no longer believes he is living in Hell - and no longer believes helping others to be a form of penitence but rather has found it has it's own intangible rewards.
He doesn't think there is any more to this - and this will be the last of the dark entries.
-The author
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
The Role of Friendship
It had been a long, lonely, and difficult flight... ...and high in the drab gray sky, flying small circles, seemingly oblivious to the chilly wet rain which had turned his once graceful feathers into a sodden mess, the Old Gull flew on. The long flight had left him weary, without hope, and feeling very empty. The Northeasterner had blown hard and soft, warm and cold, one way and then the other. Its only consistency was its unending variability. The Old Gull reacted to the changes late and ineffectively. He was benumbed, dizzy, rebuffed, tumbled, and completely spun about.
When he thought he had reached a haven from the tumult, in the shelter of a shimmering white cloud, he encountered the brilliant dazzle of the Eldest One. Here in the warmth of this small sanctuary, the Eldest One asked the Old Gull to tell him his purpose. The Old Gull's mind, deprived of spiritual purpose and lacking in any physical purpose was unprepared for the Great Question, and it flickered and sputtered into a state of numbness. His life-purpose was undecided. His emulation models unchosen. His soul had found no one to share in the pleasure of binding, of sharing. The Eldest One fully tested him with a simple question and found him totally wanting in life-purpose.
From the warmth of the temporary shelter of the shimmering white cloud he was flung back into the merciless storm, and the increasingly desperate and fruitless flight went on. He strove forward, not knowing where he was heading or even knowing why. Time stretched and dissolved, becoming endless, then meaningless. The joy of flight had become the tedium of remaining aloft. Presently, he became aware of another, the Other had the same faceless bleak grayness of many, and flew with laboring strokes of the wing. The Old Gull approached the Other for no reason but to have company to share the effort in flying pointlessly to nowhere. The Other seemed not to notice and the Old Gull did not try to force a greeting. Together they flew, on and on through the endless chilly rain.
After what seemed to be a considerable time although it may not have been, the Old Gull noticed the Other's labored flight had become erratic and unsteady. The steady beat required to maintain a given height was lost. A sharp stabbing sense of anguish swept through the Old Gull, for a gull to fly like this meant the distressed bird was close to giving up and letting their spirit fly unbounded. The Old Gull knew not his companion, his purpose, his aims, his hopes, or history, but the Other was someone who had shared the terrible storm. The Old Gull's numb mind started to seek the reason for the emotions he was experiencing, the emptiness and meaninglessness slowly dissolved into a deep-seated distress. In the nexus of the storm, all of his being, all of his purpose, was to feel, absorb, reflect, and to grow. Understanding was not important. It was important only to be aware, to sense, to grow, and to empathize.
The Old Gull's mind became a mirror of the storm, it had no form or direction, but rather, it slowly shifted and swirled beyond control. And when the Old Gull had shared the pain of the Other, he at long last understood. He felt a need to help and his caring grew and grew. It grew beyond the bounds of his once proud feathers and reached outward. It searched, not in a thinking way, but as an liberated energy, outward it flowed, seeking a way to help the Other. The Other had turned ashen gray and had little power behind his wings, his strokes became ever weaker. A small break appeared in the somber clouds ahead, and the Old Gull silently urged the Other to turn and move toward it.
On they went, the Other seemed to draw strength from the Old Gull. And the Old Gull had found the source of life-energy, his unselfish caring had tapped its source. They entered the calm bright daylight together, one aiding the other. In the warmth of the sun, the Other grew pristine and glowed with ethereal brilliance. His feathers became smooth, long, and orderly. His wingtips became black, a black not seen since the Other's childhood. The pain left his eyes, the milky sheen faded and turned a dizzying orange. The Other regained the rhythm of flight and flew with great strength and power. He circled the Old Gull once and then followed the rainbow to another existence.
With a flash of warm yellow light, the Other was gone. The Old Gull was left behind and the storm clouds collapsed, leaving him in the wet, chilly winds once more. But the storm had broken, its intensity slowly tapered and soon only a cool light rain fell from the moody skies.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
It was a fun and mischevious night...
This is a story I like to tell at this time of year, when the days be short and the wind are becoming cold, bitter, and severe. The trees be a-turning, from green to red to bare, and the animals of the woodlands are busy scurrying and burying food for the months ahead.
For it is the time when the folks of the quiet little village get together to gather firewood and bake a turkey or two, with camaraderie and cheeriness, the cider is past 'round. It was 'bout this time of year when way back in '62, there was strange happenings seen by the folks of the village. Strange happenings that haven't been seen a'fore or since that fateful year...
It began one quiet moonless night in '61, the corn harvesting time was just over and the pumpkins were ripening in the patches, the leaves fallin' gently over 'em, they was, when a strange character entered the village a'ridin' an old swaybacked horseshoe crab. Now, bare in mind the the villagers be hospitable folks and not one of them would think twice about an oddity or eccentricity, least not back then anyhowsy. So when the stranger dismounted his unlikely mount, swung his overcoat back into place and entered the village pub, only the regulars observed him up close like and took little notice. After a few huddled words with the pub keeper, the stranger moved up the stairs and after a few muffled bumps, was seen or heard no more that night...
The next day dawned bright and glorious, the countryside was awash in the vivid colors of fall, on the banks of a pond on a farm near the village center, the ducks were quacking, overhead the geese were honking as they passed by, and the leaves continued a'fallin' from the trees. It was on this wondrous morn the stranger was seen riding through the meadows on his ever faithful steed, hailing all he came to with a big hallo and a howdy-do too. And soon the word got out, he had come to the village to woo the lovely Miss Stephanie O'Gullsy.
The stranger took up a job at the local burger place, feeding the toaster the sesame seed buns, and promptly got down to the task at hand. Now, the stranger, as you might of guessed, was the Old Gull, and his steed, well history will tell that story better that I... The courtship went off like a charm. That spring giggles were heard in the hills and by the stream picnics were had, the summer fairly flew by, the two were inseparable, and words of a wedding started to buzzing on the sly...
Now all was not as it seemed, for deep in the doo, in a stable nearby, was a local chap who went by the name of Allus A. Raven, who before the stranger's arrival, had intended to be Miss Steph's intended (sorry..) He decided to take matters in hand a'fore it was too late, so he started to plan... The season's march had brought the land full cycle, and once again pumpkins dotted the countryside and the leaves were a'fallin' yet again, the local folks gathered to celebrate the harvest, least that was the stated excuse that they had in hand. So up from the valley came the fiddler crab and his band of merry conch horns, the barn doors was a'flung open and the village people came a'trottin' from yon and hither. Some brung pies, other dunking apples and carmel, some brung cider and others turkeys and gravy. Now the stranger, he brung Miss Steph, and Mr. Raven, he done brung his plan. It was soon the party was a'stomping, and the cider passed 'round...
The night ran on, the dances grew swifter, the cider a'goin' downed, when the storytellers gathered in a corner and a contest was a'held, why of course, the scariest should win! Whilst the band was treated to a much needed drink, the folks gathered in and the story telling begun. The first one told was a proper fright, the second was worse, the stories grew in the telling, they did.
The Old Gull grew pleasantly scared, but when Mr. Raven told the gory story of a shark that wouldn't die the Old Gull jumped up with a start and left with a rush, onto his horseshoe crab he leapt, and home he headed, all a shakin', posthaste and in a hurry too... The night was dark, the wind was a'swirlin' and yes, the leaves were a'fallin' yet again. Mr Raven, whose plan this a'frightenin' was, was a laffin', thinkin' soon the Old Gull be gone, and Miss Steph would a'soon be lookin' his way...
It was in the dark woods when the much a'feared bird heard the baying of a rabid canine chasin' him and when he turned for a look see, and he saw two glowing eyes watchin' back, for in pursuit was a gleaming black dog, and on top of him was a demonic creature, twisted fingers, bloody fangs an' all...
Now I am sure you have heard the tale of the rider of the headless doberman, with whom the Old Gull and his faithful stead ran a'foul that night, deep in the dark woods, high in the hills near the quiet village, back in '62, so I'll leave this story where it is with a word or two and a note to boot. Firstly, Mr. Raven, well, he still shovels doo in the stable nearby, and Miss Steph, well, she moved on, and the rider of the headless doberman is but a legend now... The Old Gull was never again seen, 'cept perhaps for a feather or two...
Monday, October 20, 2008
Harvest Season
While taking a short walk around the neighborhood today, I noticed something that made me stop in my tracks. I don't know how many of you read Tori's entry about why the leaves of a tree change color - but here one can see the process against a vivid blue sky. Even with a technical understanding of the process - I just looked at the colors in awe.
A little further down the block, I see at least one family is, shall we say rather enthusiastic about the imminent arrival of Halloween? Not only do they have a big inflatable witch, they have Frankenstein, a number of graveyard crosses, pumpkins, a huge scary scene with bare trees, three ghosts popping out of a jack-o-lantern, and a skull and crossed bones on a Survivor like archway.
All that seems to be missing is a huge purple spider (or is it a tick?) that I found across the street. I was going to crop this picture down to the many legged thing, when I decided the blazing orange tree and fallen leaves were worth keeping.
Yes, that Halloween display had everything I guess. But gee, look at what my neighbor did! A Phantom of the Opera, witches, pumpkins, scarecrows, ghosts, a dead guy in an open coffin, and lots of other insanity. At night, this whole "mess" is lit up with a couple thousand candle power worth of search lights -
A little further down the block, I see at least one family is, shall we say rather enthusiastic about the imminent arrival of Halloween? Not only do they have a big inflatable witch, they have Frankenstein, a number of graveyard crosses, pumpkins, a huge scary scene with bare trees, three ghosts popping out of a jack-o-lantern, and a skull and crossed bones on a Survivor like archway.
All that seems to be missing is a huge purple spider (or is it a tick?) that I found across the street. I was going to crop this picture down to the many legged thing, when I decided the blazing orange tree and fallen leaves were worth keeping.
Yes, that Halloween display had everything I guess. But gee, look at what my neighbor did! A Phantom of the Opera, witches, pumpkins, scarecrows, ghosts, a dead guy in an open coffin, and lots of other insanity. At night, this whole "mess" is lit up with a couple thousand candle power worth of search lights -
Sunday, October 19, 2008
Going to the Dogs! - Part II
Firstly, some news from the Virtual Walker!
As of October 16, 2008 at 7:00 AM
Steps: 447,871
Miles: 191.95
Location: Entering Weymouth, about midway between Plymouth and Southhampton heading for Portsmouth, England.
---
I decided to start the dog photographing despite the large number of them and despite the ever increasing darkness in the evening due to the shortening of the days while I counted the houses I passed on my one-mile neighborhood walk.
I counted fourty two houses, and only when I got home did I slap my forehead and think, I should have noted how many were of what color. And would't you know, as soon as I carried my camera ready to take their pictures, I didn't hardly see any! I did see two or three, well, sort of...
Dog #33
Since some of you are Taco Bell (my way of avoiding typing the hard to spell Chihuahua!) dog owners, I thought I'd show you a picture of Squire aka Squirt.
Dog #39, Name Unknown
I missed this dog in my listing! What breed is this and what should I call him/her? I can't quite umm.. tell its gender.
Dog #Hmmm...
Oops, that's not a dog. Did I accidently break the terms of my "No Harrassing Squirrels" parole?
Some late additions:
Dog #4, Meatball
Dog #6, The White Dust Mop
Dog #9, Abby the Black Labrador
Dog #11, the backwards leaping Shetland Collie
Dogs #15 and 16, the big Yellow Labrador puppy whose feet and legs are way too big for him next to his figurative older sibling, a white-ish Pomeranian that always greets me from behind the front door at the back door this time
Alice Kay will be happy to see that they are both Penn State fans.
Dog Numbers #24 and 26, Rottweiller and Yellow Labrador
I'm sorry the picture is blurry - Dog #25, Yellow Labrador came up behind me and goosed me just as I was taking the picture! I guess I ought to know her name since we are on goosing terms.
Dog #35, Perky
That makes about 10 of the 40 or so dogs captured on film - it took 4 walks to get this many.
As of October 16, 2008 at 7:00 AM
Steps: 447,871
Miles: 191.95
Location: Entering Weymouth, about midway between Plymouth and Southhampton heading for Portsmouth, England.
I decided to start the dog photographing despite the large number of them and despite the ever increasing darkness in the evening due to the shortening of the days while I counted the houses I passed on my one-mile neighborhood walk.
I counted fourty two houses, and only when I got home did I slap my forehead and think, I should have noted how many were of what color. And would't you know, as soon as I carried my camera ready to take their pictures, I didn't hardly see any! I did see two or three, well, sort of...
Dog #33
Since some of you are Taco Bell (my way of avoiding typing the hard to spell Chihuahua!) dog owners, I thought I'd show you a picture of Squire aka Squirt.
Dog #39, Name Unknown
I missed this dog in my listing! What breed is this and what should I call him/her? I can't quite umm.. tell its gender.
Dog #Hmmm...
Oops, that's not a dog. Did I accidently break the terms of my "No Harrassing Squirrels" parole?
Some late additions:
Dog #4, Meatball
Dog #6, The White Dust Mop
Dog #9, Abby the Black Labrador
Dog #11, the backwards leaping Shetland Collie
Dogs #15 and 16, the big Yellow Labrador puppy whose feet and legs are way too big for him next to his figurative older sibling, a white-ish Pomeranian that always greets me from behind the front door at the back door this time
Alice Kay will be happy to see that they are both Penn State fans.
Dog Numbers #24 and 26, Rottweiller and Yellow Labrador
I'm sorry the picture is blurry - Dog #25, Yellow Labrador came up behind me and goosed me just as I was taking the picture! I guess I ought to know her name since we are on goosing terms.
Dog #35, Perky
That makes about 10 of the 40 or so dogs captured on film - it took 4 walks to get this many.
Saturday, October 18, 2008
Little Iggy Loses His Big Brother
I got into work the other day and found this heart-wrenching sight at my desk.
Some of you are familiar with Little Iggy (the pint-sized orange chap on the left) and his adopted Dad, the Pointy-Haired Boss of Dilbert fame but only a very select few of you know that Little Iggy has a bigger brother, even though you may know of him.
Little Iggy's big brother, sprung to life in an entry I made titled "Rod Steward Concert " which chronicled the thoughts of four orange coneheads waiting in line to use a port-a-potty during a concert given by none other than Rod Stewart. (Note: I checked the spelling at least three times, ChicagoLady!)
You may know of him as OCHA #4.
It turns out that OCHA #4's real name is Tangerine "Tang" Bonehead, and while he has found success as a perfume manufacturer, he is largely a social failure and misfit in general. In order for him to build his self-esteem, the Warpedconeologist suggested he volunteer his time as a big brother. And so it was he met Little Iggy.
Unfortunately, the Pointy-Haired Boss got a bit jealous of the attention Tang was getting from Little Iggy, so he plotted with Carol, his misanthropic and bitter secretary on ways to have Tang sent to Ebonia. Turns out that Tang was to be placed in a parcel box and was going to be sent to Ebonia when, fortunately, good ol' lazy Wally intervened and put Tang in the box he didn't have to walk so far to reach. He did this shortly after the tearful farewell scene I stumbled into pictured above.
As I write this, I think Tang is in the UK. If so, I am hopeful that his newly adopted parent isn't squeezing him for perfume. That scent has produced unfortunate events in the past.
Friday, October 17, 2008
I Got Tagged
A Chicago land resident and by all appearances, awesome mother of two, Wife O Riley tagged me. She writes a humorous blog that I've only recently started to read but even so I get the feeling she goes through life with a bemused smile on her face most of the time.
Top Four Wishes
To be holding hands with AusGrl on Kangaroo Island and watch dozens of happy, very lively and bouncing Kangaroos against a background of a spectacular sunset.
To sit across a dinner table from ChicagoLady and have a discussion so meaningful I forget what I've eaten five minutes later even though it's a 5-star restaurant.
To hear and join in the laughter and gleeful shouts of MarmiteToasty, her sons and nippers while Janet, Mabel and Cedric strut around in the backyard.
Most of all, to go to a real bed at night knowing that all of you are: pain-free - have a brilliant sparkle of happiness and joy in your eyes - hearts brimming with love and well-being - smiles that disappear only when you are laughing - have the security the knowledge that you had a good day - the fullness of quiet satisfaction that the knowing you did the absolute best you can do and that you have made the world a better place - have the contentment of knowing you have at least a couple good squirrel pictures on your camera - and truly feel the connection to all the rest of us when you see something as ordinary and humdrum as an orange traffic cone.
I beg your indulgence - I must add a fifth.
I want to be on the team of people that develop the very first, totally successful bionic eye that is completely natural both in vision and appearance, I could perhaps be involved in some of the programming or software testing, and be able to watch via TV when Tori receives and activates the very first one to see her Mam all healthy, Kelly with a bunch of fresh roses for her, and Kero wagging his tail in delight.
Four Places I Want to Travel To
Into the past to a time when I was younger so I can tell some people that I took for granted that I love them.
Into the future with all of you, sharing the good times and the bad times.
To the moon, planets and stars, since the human race has finally gotten its act together and realizing it's fullest and finest potential.
Down the road to see animals living in their rightful place - the local woods, fields, and streams.
Four Careers I Want to Try
Orange traffic cone placement specialist
Photographer
Story Teller
Food, Wine, and/or Film Critic
Four Things I want God to say at the Gates of heaven
Jopete has your sofa all ready for you.
Of course, Gypsy, your faithful dog is here, she's been waiting for you.
You won't be needing that Metamucil anymore.
That is blessed silence that you hear.
I'm suppose to tag 4 other people - so I'll tag Punkn, Karla, Marz, YellowDogGrannie. I hope you have fun, and remember it's completely optional.
Top Four Wishes
To be holding hands with AusGrl on Kangaroo Island and watch dozens of happy, very lively and bouncing Kangaroos against a background of a spectacular sunset.
To sit across a dinner table from ChicagoLady and have a discussion so meaningful I forget what I've eaten five minutes later even though it's a 5-star restaurant.
To hear and join in the laughter and gleeful shouts of MarmiteToasty, her sons and nippers while Janet, Mabel and Cedric strut around in the backyard.
Most of all, to go to a real bed at night knowing that all of you are: pain-free - have a brilliant sparkle of happiness and joy in your eyes - hearts brimming with love and well-being - smiles that disappear only when you are laughing - have the security the knowledge that you had a good day - the fullness of quiet satisfaction that the knowing you did the absolute best you can do and that you have made the world a better place - have the contentment of knowing you have at least a couple good squirrel pictures on your camera - and truly feel the connection to all the rest of us when you see something as ordinary and humdrum as an orange traffic cone.
I beg your indulgence - I must add a fifth.
I want to be on the team of people that develop the very first, totally successful bionic eye that is completely natural both in vision and appearance, I could perhaps be involved in some of the programming or software testing, and be able to watch via TV when Tori receives and activates the very first one to see her Mam all healthy, Kelly with a bunch of fresh roses for her, and Kero wagging his tail in delight.
Four Places I Want to Travel To
Into the past to a time when I was younger so I can tell some people that I took for granted that I love them.
Into the future with all of you, sharing the good times and the bad times.
To the moon, planets and stars, since the human race has finally gotten its act together and realizing it's fullest and finest potential.
Down the road to see animals living in their rightful place - the local woods, fields, and streams.
Four Careers I Want to Try
Orange traffic cone placement specialist
Photographer
Story Teller
Food, Wine, and/or Film Critic
Four Things I want God to say at the Gates of heaven
Jopete has your sofa all ready for you.
Of course, Gypsy, your faithful dog is here, she's been waiting for you.
You won't be needing that Metamucil anymore.
That is blessed silence that you hear.
I'm suppose to tag 4 other people - so I'll tag Punkn, Karla, Marz, YellowDogGrannie. I hope you have fun, and remember it's completely optional.
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Lights! Cameras! Action!
Recently, Photojournalist LadyStyx came across the filming of a new action movie starring the ever popular Orange Schwarzenegger. According to credible Hollywood sources, the film has preliminarily been titled, "Orange The Destroyer," and features very advanced special effects by George Lucus' Industrial Light & Magic.
The scene above apparently shows Orange, reprising his role as Orange the Barrelian, chasing down a Large Man-Eating Blue Square and a very large Wrinkled Black Beatlejuicean Worm through a scene of complete urban desolation.
In another desolate scene, perhaps outside the ruined city we saw in the first scene, we see Orange observing a sinister grave being dug for a very large but very dead, partially decaptitated, Wrinkled Orange Beatlejuicean Worm. What thoughts are running through his head? We can only guess.
The star of the movie, two-time Orange Globe winner - is of course, the unassuming Orange Striped Barrel (OSB) named Orange Schwarzenegger who is thought to be somehow related to the current Governor of California given his trademark catch phrase, "Hasta Mi Vino" which is strikingly similar to Arnold's catch phrase from his previous life as the Terminator.
Orange Schwartzy, as he is known by his adoring public, was born in a plastic factory in Van Nuys, California, one of three gazillion children of Big 'O' and Nevahadanoh Schwarzenegger in the spring of 1993.
His film career consists of such gems as Orange the Barrelian, Orange Sonja, Oh No! I've Been Recalled, Exterminator One: Cone Head Annihilation, Exterminator Two: Judge The Men Today, and the Last Orange Barrel. Many critics feel his only forgettable role was that in Batman and Robin as Mr. Freeze's cell mate, Orange Creamsicle.
New Alien Species Found!
Long rumored to exist, this very rare tri-eye alien species has finally captured on film by roving Photojournalist LadyStyx. Our kudos to the lady with the camera!
This tri-eye species has been classified by scientist to be related to the Angry Red Round with Probe and even more distantly related to the Cement-Headed Door Watchers and/or Rusty Necked Bouncers.
For those of you that want to see one for yourself in the wilds, LadyStyx informs me that this alien has been seen orbiting near malls and very select IHOP restaurants.
I propose naming this new species the Lanieous Blinkerium as it reminds me so very much of another rare creature.
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Going to the Dogs!
Firstly - since some of you asked - the shoulder seems to be healing well - I'm still doing PT three times a week. The doctor expects that I will be able to "fire" Hoke (of Driving Miss Daisy fame) and start driving on my own by the end of the week.
A couple days ago, I was able to raise my hand over my head without pain for the first time in months. That was a thrilling moment, to me anyway. I am now allowed to walk three to four miles so I am slowly getting back into stride.
:)
Recently while walking, I encountered a Basset Hound I call Fred even though I know his real name is Hank. I was warmly welcomed by a ton of barking and much running back and forth along the fence. I tossed him my peanut butter covered cracker, mostly to get some quiet. I've not seen Fred (or Hank) in a while and wondered, briefly, where he had been hiding.
Since I was at the end of my walk and nearly home, that thought didn't have time to...percolate and progress very far along a mental path before I had to turn my attention to other things, like battling with the contraption on my shoulder and the sling to get it off so I could shower.
While showering, I thought to myself, "I wonder if I can retrace my steps and mentally list the dogs in the neighborhood that I pass while walking?" and so the restless mind proceeded to do so. I exited the shower mentally exhausted!
I thought it would be a neat entry to include a photograph of each dog but when I got done the list I decided that project would take forever since I see:
Exiting my house and turning to the left -
1) "Winston" the English Bulldog
2) "Daisy" the tan Mastiff
3) A black long haired Collie dog I can't remember the name of...
4) "Meatball", a brindle colored mutt
5) "Hambone", a grey mutt that must be about a gazillion years old
X) A dark grey long haired cat that gets walked on a leash but it's a cat!
- That is just three houses and I'm finally off my street! -
6) A white dust mop I've never met the owners of...
7) A huge Rottweiler named "Adam"
8) Adam's figurative brother - a little Poodle mix of some sort - name unknown
9) "Abby" the Black Labrador
10) A brown, black and white collie of some sort actually named "Smore"
- The end of the block, turning left -
11) A really adorable little Shetland Collie that barks and does back flips, but shies away when I approach him or her
- Now out of my neighborhood -
12) A big Black Labrador that has really good lungs
13-14) The two big dogs in the second floor window that I took a picture of before
15) A big Yellow Labrador puppy whose feet and legs are way too big for him
16) The Yellow Lab's figurative older sibling, a white-ish Pomeranian that always greets me from behind the front door
17-18) A matched couple of Pugs that I call "Wart" and "Moldy" but don't remember why
- Heading back to my neighborhood -
19) A Lassie-like dog that is really old and stiff
20) A mostly back Border Collie named "Ollie"
21-22) "Hermann" the German Shepard and his figurative little (in size) brother "Peewee" which I've talked about before.
23) A white dust mop-like dog I call "Dusty"
24) A middle aged Black Labrador that I don't really like because he is always smelly
24-25-26) A house with three dogs, 2 Yellow Labradors and a Rottweiler
- On the homestretch now -
27) A boy Beagle that really bays when I walk by
28-29) A twin set of Rhodesian Ridgebacks who are actual brother "Easy" and sister "Harly"
30) An Elkhound named "Pete"
31) An old mutt that always runs up and licks my hand - I just call him "Ol' Tongue"
32) A Spaniel of some sort... its not a Cocker, but what it is, I don't know
33-34) A Chihuahua I call "Squirt" (real name "Squire") and his figurative brother a small Welsh Corgi that I call "Yaps" who's real name is "Tiny"
35) An old black mutt that's part Black Lab named "Perky"
36) Another Shetland Collie who I think they call "Roland"
37) A Boston Terrier
38) ...and finally Freddy the Basset Hound whose real name is "Hank" and who's picture is above.
This list is the result of a short one-mile walk out and about the neighborhood and probably omits a half dozen or more dogs I can hear barking but never can seem to locate or see. Next time I'll try to remember to count how many houses are involved here - I'm sure its not more than three or four dozen.
A couple days ago, I was able to raise my hand over my head without pain for the first time in months. That was a thrilling moment, to me anyway. I am now allowed to walk three to four miles so I am slowly getting back into stride.
:)
Recently while walking, I encountered a Basset Hound I call Fred even though I know his real name is Hank. I was warmly welcomed by a ton of barking and much running back and forth along the fence. I tossed him my peanut butter covered cracker, mostly to get some quiet. I've not seen Fred (or Hank) in a while and wondered, briefly, where he had been hiding.
Since I was at the end of my walk and nearly home, that thought didn't have time to...percolate and progress very far along a mental path before I had to turn my attention to other things, like battling with the contraption on my shoulder and the sling to get it off so I could shower.
While showering, I thought to myself, "I wonder if I can retrace my steps and mentally list the dogs in the neighborhood that I pass while walking?" and so the restless mind proceeded to do so. I exited the shower mentally exhausted!
I thought it would be a neat entry to include a photograph of each dog but when I got done the list I decided that project would take forever since I see:
Exiting my house and turning to the left -
1) "Winston" the English Bulldog
2) "Daisy" the tan Mastiff
3) A black long haired Collie dog I can't remember the name of...
4) "Meatball", a brindle colored mutt
5) "Hambone", a grey mutt that must be about a gazillion years old
X) A dark grey long haired cat that gets walked on a leash but it's a cat!
- That is just three houses and I'm finally off my street! -
6) A white dust mop I've never met the owners of...
7) A huge Rottweiler named "Adam"
8) Adam's figurative brother - a little Poodle mix of some sort - name unknown
9) "Abby" the Black Labrador
10) A brown, black and white collie of some sort actually named "Smore"
- The end of the block, turning left -
11) A really adorable little Shetland Collie that barks and does back flips, but shies away when I approach him or her
- Now out of my neighborhood -
12) A big Black Labrador that has really good lungs
13-14) The two big dogs in the second floor window that I took a picture of before
15) A big Yellow Labrador puppy whose feet and legs are way too big for him
16) The Yellow Lab's figurative older sibling, a white-ish Pomeranian that always greets me from behind the front door
17-18) A matched couple of Pugs that I call "Wart" and "Moldy" but don't remember why
- Heading back to my neighborhood -
19) A Lassie-like dog that is really old and stiff
20) A mostly back Border Collie named "Ollie"
21-22) "Hermann" the German Shepard and his figurative little (in size) brother "Peewee" which I've talked about before.
23) A white dust mop-like dog I call "Dusty"
24) A middle aged Black Labrador that I don't really like because he is always smelly
24-25-26) A house with three dogs, 2 Yellow Labradors and a Rottweiler
- On the homestretch now -
27) A boy Beagle that really bays when I walk by
28-29) A twin set of Rhodesian Ridgebacks who are actual brother "Easy" and sister "Harly"
30) An Elkhound named "Pete"
31) An old mutt that always runs up and licks my hand - I just call him "Ol' Tongue"
32) A Spaniel of some sort... its not a Cocker, but what it is, I don't know
33-34) A Chihuahua I call "Squirt" (real name "Squire") and his figurative brother a small Welsh Corgi that I call "Yaps" who's real name is "Tiny"
35) An old black mutt that's part Black Lab named "Perky"
36) Another Shetland Collie who I think they call "Roland"
37) A Boston Terrier
38) ...and finally Freddy the Basset Hound whose real name is "Hank" and who's picture is above.
This list is the result of a short one-mile walk out and about the neighborhood and probably omits a half dozen or more dogs I can hear barking but never can seem to locate or see. Next time I'll try to remember to count how many houses are involved here - I'm sure its not more than three or four dozen.
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
The Verdict on Marmite
I've finally had some peace and quiet and a chance to truly sample the Marmite goodies that arrived at my door courtesy of a marvelous friend.
I first ate the Marmite-flavored breadsticks thinking to myself, what could possibly make a breadstick taste bad? ...and found that they were yummy with only the slightest hint of some exotic flavor.
Eyeing the rest of the goodies, I decided to try the Marmite-flavored Cheddar Cheese. I knew this was risky grounds as I like a "good cheese" and I am not terribly fond of those that are heavy in flavor. A timid nibble put my mind at ease, it was edible... I wasn't jumping up and down, gotta get me some more of this, crazy about it, but I enjoyed it's unique taste.
Building up even more courage, I then sampled the potato crisps which are potato chips in American-English but don't call them that in England! Some of the natives there get all worked up in a lather if you do. Ah! They were nice and salty, and with all the walking I do, I find I hanker for some salty food on occasion. These were even yummier than the breadsticks.
Thinking to cleanse my palate, I then sampled the organic dark chocolate, ginger, and pear flavored biscuits from Marks and Spencer's of which I had only one because of the sugar; Oh! How heavenly.... it was simply scrumtastic!
I opened the tube of Coleman's Mustard and first just tried a dab on my finger... There are so many kinds of mustard available - including French's Yellow, which are so humdrum... As a matter of fact, did you know that French's is currently owned by Reckitt Benckiser, a company best known for products such as Lysol and Musinex?
Anyway I digress, Coleman's is a "real" mustard. I immediately pronounced it suitable for application on Philadelphia's finest culinary treat, the soft pretzel, which I ate with great... umm... relish. Ugh! sorry about that...
Hmm... All that remained unsampled was the contents of the little brown jar of Marmite.
- Drum roll please -
The little brown jar, so clean, bright, and pure... never been opened or tried... sat there on my counter, so cheery and oh-so-alluring with it's yellow, red and white label. Gently, with soft warm fingers, I removed the clear cellophane that sealed the jar - it crinkled happily in my hand... and slowly I undid the bright yellow top, my anticipation growing by the moment. I lowered my face to the opening of the jar in order to give my nose access to it's scent... and my eyes watered, a loud alarm claxon sounded, and a blinding, flashing red warning light in my head went off!
Back off! Back off!!! Wowsers! This stuff is ever so pungent. I didn't even need to be in the same room to smell it.
The aroma caught my attention though. Completely transfixed, I savored it, inhaling it - letting my mind go... trying to associate what I was smelling with something in my memory - and then it came to me - it smelled like a pint (well, make it a couple gallons) of dark Guinness stout spilled into a rug and left to sit for several days.
Ah, a wonderful smell - it reminded me so much of the good times I had while in a college dorm, so many years ago, when the entry lobby and the halls would reek of stale beer long after a hard weekend's partying.
Trembling, with trepidation of trying something so fabled, and so new...I slowly dipped my pinkie finger into the jar and slid it across the surface of the thick brown substance - it had the consistency of slightly hardened molasses... or perhaps it it was more like some of the residue that an emptied pint of Guinness would leave in the glass after a week in the sun... be as it may, some stuck to my finger tip.
Closing my eyes, I raised my finger to my mouth and licked the my finger clean. Whoa! My eyes flew open as the intense flavor exploded in my mouth like a piece of red hot Cinnamon candy or unadulterated horseradish or even the red cocktail sauce you dip shrimp into -
Gagging, choking, wiping the tears from my eyes, I realized that Marmite was most likely an "acquired taste". I couldn't and still can't describe the flavor - but I knew I had to try some more - but not this way, not so hardcore and straight from the bottle. So I decided to try some on toast made from whole grain bread - but I had to go to the store and buy some - I wanted the hardiest, darkest bread I could get - I ended up with some - I don't remember what it was now - it didn't matter as I later found out - it couldn't be tasted with even with the slimmest of layers of Marmite on it.
Looking about, I found I had some old (not quite green) slices of ham in the backmost recesses of my refrigerator and decided well, if it has gone bad, it won't matter any, the Marmite will kill off any E. Coli or whatever... Braving the aroma of the jelly coated ham - I placed a slice on the heal from the loaf of dark bread and applied a layer of Marmite. Eyeing my open-face sandwich dubiously, I once more closed my eyes and raised it to my opened mouth - and took the plunge.
Ahhhhhhhh! Now that's more like it! I found myself enjoying the new taste - tangy, pungent, tongue numbing, and all.
Verdict: He LIKES it! He LIKES it! And I'm going to experiment some more with it.
World War II Airplane Show - Part 2
Last weekend, I went to a small airshow with my dad at the Mercer County (Trenton, NJ) Airport. At the show, they had books on World War II experiences written by local veteran airmen on exhibit. Included in the display was this painting:
Little Friends by Robert Taylor
To the young men in the bombers, the sight of the escorting fighter planes was a very welcomed sight. The young men in the fighter planes and their planes were called "Little Friends". The fighter planes in the painting are P-51 Mustangs, and there was one on exhibit at the airshow.
P-51C, Dual Seat, Trainer
Of course, this Little Friend, has lots of his own little friends. :)
Rumor has it, after a long hard days work, all of these hungry OCHAs walked single file off the airfield and climbed into a red SUV. They then rode off to a local McDonald's, where instead of a Big Mac or even a Happy Meal with a toy, they surrounded a Honda Minivan and ate it for dinner.
Follow-up on comments in Part 1 -
I spoke to my Dad about whether or not he did any work for New York Shipbuilding, which was located in Camden NJ and the builder of the USS Kitty Hawk that LadyStyx's father served aboard. He immediately replied that he had done "tons" of stuff - and sent me a picture of a foundry pattern used to produce one of the parts he mentioned. He made a good deal of the "big" plumbing, that is, the 4 inch pipe fittings used for steam and fuel lines. It's such a small world. This is the third or fourth time someone of you have stumbled into something in my world that we share somehow - each connection makes me feel even more connected with you all.
A 1054 SE pilot certification was someone qualified to co-pilot a 4 engine airplane in US Army-speak. The SE means ChicagoLady's father was also rated as a pilot in single engine aircraft.
Both Hank Jr and Alice Kay have encountered the Nine-Oh-Nine themselves. The planes in the airshow are owned by the Collings Foundation and tour the United States. Rides are available for around $425.
Little Friends by Robert Taylor
To the young men in the bombers, the sight of the escorting fighter planes was a very welcomed sight. The young men in the fighter planes and their planes were called "Little Friends". The fighter planes in the painting are P-51 Mustangs, and there was one on exhibit at the airshow.
P-51C, Dual Seat, Trainer
Of course, this Little Friend, has lots of his own little friends. :)
Rumor has it, after a long hard days work, all of these hungry OCHAs walked single file off the airfield and climbed into a red SUV. They then rode off to a local McDonald's, where instead of a Big Mac or even a Happy Meal with a toy, they surrounded a Honda Minivan and ate it for dinner.
Follow-up on comments in Part 1 -
I spoke to my Dad about whether or not he did any work for New York Shipbuilding, which was located in Camden NJ and the builder of the USS Kitty Hawk that LadyStyx's father served aboard. He immediately replied that he had done "tons" of stuff - and sent me a picture of a foundry pattern used to produce one of the parts he mentioned. He made a good deal of the "big" plumbing, that is, the 4 inch pipe fittings used for steam and fuel lines. It's such a small world. This is the third or fourth time someone of you have stumbled into something in my world that we share somehow - each connection makes me feel even more connected with you all.
A 1054 SE pilot certification was someone qualified to co-pilot a 4 engine airplane in US Army-speak. The SE means ChicagoLady's father was also rated as a pilot in single engine aircraft.
Both Hank Jr and Alice Kay have encountered the Nine-Oh-Nine themselves. The planes in the airshow are owned by the Collings Foundation and tour the United States. Rides are available for around $425.
Monday, October 13, 2008
World War II Airplane Show - Part 1
Last weekend, I went to a small airshow with my dad at the Mercer County (Trenton, NJ) Airport. The show featured restored planes that flew during WWII and some time to talk to some of the ever diminishing number of veterans that flew them.
They offered flights to the public - a rare treat given that the planes are over 60 years old. This entry will be a two-parter - as I want to be serious in this part to show my utmost and complete respect for the courage, fortitude and abilities of those that fought for the USA during WWII.
The white-haired man with the cane flew the B-24 Liberator in Italy walking along side of a B-25
This veteran barely glanced at the B-25 Mitchell while walking past it on his way to the B-24 Liberator. He flew 42 missions - bombing Germany from airfields in Italy and he was in Italy when the war ended. He told me of the intense cold he suffered for hours on end when in the air - and of the horrors of watching his squadron-mate's airplanes breakup into pieces and plummet thousands of feet into a ball of fire on the ground after being hit by flak (anti-aircraft shells fired from the ground) and by machine gun fire from German fighter planes.
He tensed up visibly. I could see him replay these things in his eyes when he spoke to me. He related to me, that when the war was over, he flew his bomber home to the States and then onwards to the storage fields in the Arizona desert - and how he never, ever, got back into an airplane to fly again - he said he even took the train home from Arizona after climbing out of his bomber that last time.
B-24 Liberator, The Witchcraft
The USA built over 18,000 of these planes during the war years - 3,000 more than the B-17s that were built. Now only a handful of these planes remain and this is the only one left of this model that can still fly.
The Witchcraft was a B-24 assigned to the 467 Bomb Group, 790 Bomb Squadron that compiled an amazing record of 130 combat missions - it is an olive drab aircraft, with red and white nose bowls, red and white rudders, 130 bomb markings and a cartoonish witch flying a machine gun as nose art.
The B-25 Mitchell attracts the attention of a couple
America's most famous medium (two-engined) bombers, the B-25 Mitchell, is most famous for the Doolittle Raid on Japan, the first American attack made on the Japanese mainland after the attack on Pearl Harbor. This famous raid saw sixteen B-25s take off from the aircraft carrier, the USS Hornet on a daring mission that brought morale back to America in a time of war. The B-25 was never conceived to fly off of an aircraft carrier, but it adapted - All 16 aircraft were lost on this mission.
The story of the Tondelayo is mind-numbing, it was credited with sinking a 6,000-ton freighter and, while returning to it's airfield heavily damaged, fought approximately 50 Japanese fighter planes, shooting down five in a 75-minute running battle - all the while with only one engine still running. Two other B-25's flying in escort of the crippled bomber - where shot down in this action.
Oh, was he ever excited to fly on the plane his dad flew!
The man wearing blue jeans running in front of this plane has been told it was time for his ride. He was thrilled beyond words - while waiting to get on the plane, he told me his father flew 25 missions in a B-25 in the South Pacific and had passed away a couple years ago. His father bombed the Japanese-held airfield in Rabaul, Papua, New Guinea. This airfield was later a favorite target of the Blacksheep Squadron of TV fame, and was used by the Japanese to attack the mainland of Australia.
My Dad standing in front of the B-17 main wheel
One of only fourteen B-17s still flying in the United States, this aircraft is named the Nine-O-Nine. The most widely recognized and revered aircraft type of World War II, is the B-17 Flying Fortress. This Flying Fortress was built at Long Beach, CA by the Douglas Aircraft Company and accepted by the Army Air Force on April 7, 1945.
In April 1952, this plane was instrumented and subjected to the effects of three different nuclear explosions. After a thirteen-year "cool down" period, it was sold as part of an 800-ton scrap pile from which it was retrieved and restored.
The original "Nine-O-Nine" was assigned to combat on February 25, 1944. By April 1945, she had made eighteen trips to Berlin, dropped 562,000 pounds of bombs, and flown 1,129 hours. She had twenty-one engine changes, four wing panel changes, fifteen main gas tank changes, and 18 Tokyo tank changes (long-range fuel tanks). She also suffered from considerable flak damage.
After European hostilities ceased, "Nine-O-Nine", with its six-hundred patched holes, flew back to the United States where it was unceremoniously scrapped.
Priming the big engines to circulate the oil before starting
The oil in the big engines settles into the lower part and they spin the propellors in order to recirculate it back into the rest of the engine - as you can see, turning the propellor is no easy feat as they really had to lean into them.
The B-17 Nine-O-Nine takes off into the wild blue yonder
Take-off, a sight that must have been seen countless times in England during 1942-1945. The ground crew must of stood and watched as dozens of heavily laden bombers took off on missions of 8-10-12 hours in length and waited and waited and waited for their safe return. Too many of them, did not come back.
More pictures from this weekend if you you want to look at them
I uploaded a couple videos I recorded that I think you will enjoy. Note: The propellors are whirling - the camera makes them look like they are turning slow.
Engine Start of the B-25 Mitchell
The B-25 rolls off and the B-17 engines running
Note the waving guy in the window behind the wing, he was the excited guy I mentioned earlier.
They offered flights to the public - a rare treat given that the planes are over 60 years old. This entry will be a two-parter - as I want to be serious in this part to show my utmost and complete respect for the courage, fortitude and abilities of those that fought for the USA during WWII.
The white-haired man with the cane flew the B-24 Liberator in Italy walking along side of a B-25
This veteran barely glanced at the B-25 Mitchell while walking past it on his way to the B-24 Liberator. He flew 42 missions - bombing Germany from airfields in Italy and he was in Italy when the war ended. He told me of the intense cold he suffered for hours on end when in the air - and of the horrors of watching his squadron-mate's airplanes breakup into pieces and plummet thousands of feet into a ball of fire on the ground after being hit by flak (anti-aircraft shells fired from the ground) and by machine gun fire from German fighter planes.
He tensed up visibly. I could see him replay these things in his eyes when he spoke to me. He related to me, that when the war was over, he flew his bomber home to the States and then onwards to the storage fields in the Arizona desert - and how he never, ever, got back into an airplane to fly again - he said he even took the train home from Arizona after climbing out of his bomber that last time.
B-24 Liberator, The Witchcraft
The USA built over 18,000 of these planes during the war years - 3,000 more than the B-17s that were built. Now only a handful of these planes remain and this is the only one left of this model that can still fly.
The Witchcraft was a B-24 assigned to the 467 Bomb Group, 790 Bomb Squadron that compiled an amazing record of 130 combat missions - it is an olive drab aircraft, with red and white nose bowls, red and white rudders, 130 bomb markings and a cartoonish witch flying a machine gun as nose art.
The B-25 Mitchell attracts the attention of a couple
America's most famous medium (two-engined) bombers, the B-25 Mitchell, is most famous for the Doolittle Raid on Japan, the first American attack made on the Japanese mainland after the attack on Pearl Harbor. This famous raid saw sixteen B-25s take off from the aircraft carrier, the USS Hornet on a daring mission that brought morale back to America in a time of war. The B-25 was never conceived to fly off of an aircraft carrier, but it adapted - All 16 aircraft were lost on this mission.
The story of the Tondelayo is mind-numbing, it was credited with sinking a 6,000-ton freighter and, while returning to it's airfield heavily damaged, fought approximately 50 Japanese fighter planes, shooting down five in a 75-minute running battle - all the while with only one engine still running. Two other B-25's flying in escort of the crippled bomber - where shot down in this action.
Oh, was he ever excited to fly on the plane his dad flew!
The man wearing blue jeans running in front of this plane has been told it was time for his ride. He was thrilled beyond words - while waiting to get on the plane, he told me his father flew 25 missions in a B-25 in the South Pacific and had passed away a couple years ago. His father bombed the Japanese-held airfield in Rabaul, Papua, New Guinea. This airfield was later a favorite target of the Blacksheep Squadron of TV fame, and was used by the Japanese to attack the mainland of Australia.
My Dad standing in front of the B-17 main wheel
One of only fourteen B-17s still flying in the United States, this aircraft is named the Nine-O-Nine. The most widely recognized and revered aircraft type of World War II, is the B-17 Flying Fortress. This Flying Fortress was built at Long Beach, CA by the Douglas Aircraft Company and accepted by the Army Air Force on April 7, 1945.
In April 1952, this plane was instrumented and subjected to the effects of three different nuclear explosions. After a thirteen-year "cool down" period, it was sold as part of an 800-ton scrap pile from which it was retrieved and restored.
The original "Nine-O-Nine" was assigned to combat on February 25, 1944. By April 1945, she had made eighteen trips to Berlin, dropped 562,000 pounds of bombs, and flown 1,129 hours. She had twenty-one engine changes, four wing panel changes, fifteen main gas tank changes, and 18 Tokyo tank changes (long-range fuel tanks). She also suffered from considerable flak damage.
After European hostilities ceased, "Nine-O-Nine", with its six-hundred patched holes, flew back to the United States where it was unceremoniously scrapped.
Priming the big engines to circulate the oil before starting
The oil in the big engines settles into the lower part and they spin the propellors in order to recirculate it back into the rest of the engine - as you can see, turning the propellor is no easy feat as they really had to lean into them.
The B-17 Nine-O-Nine takes off into the wild blue yonder
Take-off, a sight that must have been seen countless times in England during 1942-1945. The ground crew must of stood and watched as dozens of heavily laden bombers took off on missions of 8-10-12 hours in length and waited and waited and waited for their safe return. Too many of them, did not come back.
More pictures from this weekend if you you want to look at them
I uploaded a couple videos I recorded that I think you will enjoy. Note: The propellors are whirling - the camera makes them look like they are turning slow.
Engine Start of the B-25 Mitchell
The B-25 rolls off and the B-17 engines running
Note the waving guy in the window behind the wing, he was the excited guy I mentioned earlier.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
