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Shades of Edward R. Murrow, this was Keith Olbermann's finest hour!


ADDENDUM:
Here is the text of Keith's commentary.

Warfare in the 21st Century

Want to get past the crap handed out by Rumsfield-Bush-Rove-Mass Media clique on what it is we are doing in Iraq and Afghanistan? Yeah, so do I.

Forget all the blabber they hand you. It's virtually all BS. You want to know about what we face? Check out this guy's blog.

The dude knows his stuff. Your assignment is to read the first 144 column inches of it.

Then report back to me. Ah, how I long for those halcyon days of the Soviet Bloc and Mutually Assured Destruction.

Out.

The Black Swan

Sounds like something from Pirates of the Caribbean. But, it's not.

An actual black swan has taken up residence in the lake by my house. There are six other swans, all white. Since we've lived here there have always been at least two white swans. Some lady in the condos bought them for her viewing pleasure I'm told. Where these other four or the one black one came from I don't know. I think the white ones are mute swans. Every once in a while a trumpet swan would swing by for a few days. But this black one has me stumped.

The thing is, black swans appear to be native only to Australia. Check it out on Wikipedia.

So what's he/she doing here? That's a heck of a flight. If someone bought the thing and placed it here I find that unconscionable. How many times has Man screwed up the local ecology by introducing non-native species?

It seems to have paired up with the white swan in the pix.

Why I Love Google Earth...

The news broke about a small plane crash near Indianapolis this morning. Within two minutes I had this satellite photo of the pond the plane crashed into.

Technology and retirement: a deadly combination.

Check this out

I sold my first ever item on eBay this morning. I had a Fred Bear archery bow I bought WAAAAAAY back when I was an undergrad. It was for a PE class. For some reason I've carried this thing around for three and a half decades. I only used it for the class and the one time, in Ft. Sill, OK, I shot a rabid skunk with it.

Got $100.

Wonder what else around her I can unload? What d'ya think the dog would bring?

Kidding.

Somebody is watching you...

And that somebody is me. I signed up for this service at Statcounter.com that counts how many hits I get every day. Check the second table. Someone from IRAN checked my blog! Unbelieveable.

Well, whoever you are and whereever you're from, welcome to Mike's World. Even if you found it by accident.

Iran. What are the odds?

Moby-Dick: Done

Melville's tale of Ahab, the Pequod, the White Whale and madness. Quite the yarn. Mick loved it. I thought it was pretty good, but I'm not gaga over it.

I have "Collapse" by Jared Diamond, the sequel to "Guns, Germs and Steel" on deck. But, first I think I'll launch into "Flashman's Lady", the third in Fraser's series about my favorite poltroon.

Read on, McDuck.

This Just In About Orcas

You want to know why I like Orcas?

Sell Your Cola Stocks

Today marks one week since my last Pepsi. I'm drinking Lipton's Green Tea like a mad man. Of course, I always drink (drank?) Pepsi like said mad man also. I'm not saying it will last. I've tried before without success.

Sure, I know the tea has caffeine and sugar. At least it doesn't have the carbonation (gas passing down 47%) and all the other bad stuff colas supposedly have.

AND green tea has anti-oxidants.

So does dark chocolate. Which is a whole 'nuther issue.

Any way you cut it I have fewer problems than John Mark Karr.

Done!

Finally finished reading "Guns, Germs, and Steel" by Pulitzer Prize winner Jared Diamond. It's the Appalachian Trail of books. Only ten percent of those who start out actually finish. Mick read it through, but Jason (a pretty devout reader) hasn't. It's an important book examining how the world managed to develop as it has. For example, why did Europeans "discover" then subsequently subdue the native populations in the Americas instead of vice versa?

Diamond's main conclusion was "that societies developed differently on different continents because of differences in continental environments, not in human biology." Basically, those with the lucky advantage of sufficient and the right kinds of natural resources who were situated in areas of an optimal level of competition with other peoples stood the best chance of developing technologies, languages, and resistance to diseases necessary to succeed.

Diamond has also written "Collapse" explaining how seemingly dominant societies fall apart. I'll tackle that soon.

But, first I have Moby Dick on deck and the third of the Flashman series. Ah, the workaday world.

Question of the Day

I've been wondering about this for a while:

Do any species other than H. Sapiens combine different foodstuffs to produce a particular taste?

Any primates out there making salsa?

More Pix From the Kayak Trip

Thanks and kudos to fellow camper Mike Funk who sent these along. Mike had a REALLY nice camera, which put mine to shame.

Just in from Our "I Can't Believe This S***!" Department:

They're saying on CNN President Sock Puppet is getting a boost in his approval ratings from the latest terror alert/threat/scare/scam in London. What! Why?

What did HE do!?!? This is nuts. There was a line from "The Magnificent Seven."

"If they were not sheep, they would not need to be shorn."

Pix From Our Campsite in Johnstone Strait, BC

Took Mick down to Columbia, SC for grad school over the weekend. Looks like he'll be OK. He called yesterday (Sunday) in a rage (What else is new?). The southern bible-belt crackers wouldn't sell him anything until after 1:30PM on Sunday. It's the law ONLY in his county. Has something to do with religion I'm sure. You know Baptists won't allow you to have sex while standing because it could lead to dancing?

But, I digress....

The view across the Sound on our first night. After the moon set I crawled out of the tent to view the stars. Not as awesome as my dream night outside Vinales, Cuba. But, pretty sweet nonetheless.

The morning view from my tent flap. How do I keep finding myself in these Hell holes?

The campsite from this rocky outcropping. When the tide was low we could walk out on it and look back towards camp. I think the tent in the foreground is mine.

Me with two of the guides, Steve and Dave. If you look closely you can see the "jewelry" Dave cut for us from the Bull Kelp. That Bull Kelp is something. Dave also cut a length of it to make a trumpet. Naturally, I gave it a blast or two. Maybe three.


More to come later.

Here We Go...(Terror Alert Opinion)

Not that I'm a suspicious person, BUT:

The terror alert comes two days AFTER Hawkish Joe Lieberman gets bounced from the Democrat nomination for his Senate seat in Connecticut. The Right has been in freefall in the polls over the morass in Iraq. Now they play the fear card.

They wouldn't do that would they? Why did Cheney come out bashing the Democrats as soft on security AFTER he and President Sock Puppet had been informed of the plot, but BEFORE we the people were notified. Politics at play.

They sell fear and we the people buy it. Was there a plot? Where are the perps? Why do we never see any actual evidence of all these plots, warnings, alerts, etc.?

Mick called it yesterday before any of this happened. He said to watch for some incident before the election to sway the sheep I mean voters. I raised a smart boy.

Kayaking among the Orcas. It was a Close One!

Had a fantastic voyage. We were guided by Spirit of the West outfitters. Camped along the shores of Johnstone Strait north of Campbell River, British Columbia. Four days, three nights.

So we had been out all day kayaking up the Strait and doing some hiking. Very peaceful. We hadn't seen any Orcas all day. It was our second day there. The first night we spotted a couple out in the middle of the Strait, but they were far away and it was getting onto dusk.

The guides were getting reports that a group was moving our way. Just before we made the take-out we saw some fins. There were several Orcas passing by the campsite way out in the water. It was a thrill, even though they weren't close.

Then here comes a few more right at us. It looked like they were going to come right through our group. But, apparently they spotted us and disappeared. A few moments later they re-appeared out in the middle far way from us. Again it was a thrill, but we hadn't gotten a REALLY close look at 'em yet.

Just as we were about to return to camp I spotted another small group again coming straight toward our little flotilla. Maybe this time they would hold course. I got my video running and caught them about 40 yards out. I was tracking them, trying to anticipate where they would come up again. I was guessing the left side of the kayak. They came up right.


Jennifer, in front of me, caught him as he broke the surface. If you look close enough (To the left of the paddle shaft) you can see his black and white colors.

Now THAT was the thrill! I was speechless. Another of our party caught just a bit of it on his video. When he sends it to me I'll post it.

That was the highlight, but everything else was great. I could have stayed out there for many more days.

The Wind Down

No more rushing from place to place. We just chill with Jason's friends, Nick and Matt. The condo is awesome. We spend our time reading, swimming in the pool, lounging. Occasionally we taxi into Jaco for a change of pace.

But, within a day or so I start to get the itch to get moving. Even when Jan was alive our family could never do the "Lounge Vacation by the Shore" thing. Always had to be on the go.

On the third day I talked the guys into going somewhere. Anywhere. At 7:30 I dragged them out of bed. We rented a Kia SUV and headed out. Destination: Parque Manuel Antonio.

Along the way we drive detour off the main highway, seven kilometers up a rutted road to a Jungle Canopy place. The kind of deal where you can walk on bridges erected among the tree tops. Mick and I had done this last year. Great views of flora and fauna.

The parking area is empty, our first clue something was amiss. The boss-man gives us a bunch of attitude.

"Do you have reservations?" (How would one learn this was necessary?)
"We are closed today" (Again...)
"But we are having some VIPs this afternoon if you want to stay. Sixty-five dollars per person, you can go along. It includes lunch." (A blatant rip-ff, ala The Kramer Reality Tour on Seinfeld. I couldn't get out of there fast enough.)

We were back on the highway in minutes. There were some pretty ratty bridges to cross along the way. Scary.

Parque Manuel Antonio was advertised as a jungle setting complete with monkeys, sloths, etc. Mainly it was a tourist beach. We were immediately overrun by "guides" willing to point out said animals. No dice.


The place was beautiful. We hiked the trails, our last hike of the trip. The culmination was to this cliff overlooking the blue Pacifico.

On the way to the beach we passed a restaurant with a full sized C-123 cargo plane inside. El Avion. I had jumped from C-123s back in the day andwanted to check it out on our return. We decided to eat there. This was the occasion of one of the greatest things Mick ever said about me. Unwittingly.

I was demonstrating the jumpmaster technique of hanging out the paratroop door in preparation for the jump. Mick said, almost to himself, "That takes balls." But, I heard him! I don't think he even realized what he was saying. No one could EVER pay me a greater compliment. This trip was complete.

After the Storm

After a day of hanging around Liberia (just to make sure all was well) we headed for our final destination. Of this trip. Jaco, Costa Rica, where Jason's family has a condo. We would spend the last few days lounging around. Mick is anxious to return to the States. His brush with excruciating pain has given him a good scare. And a different perspective. Standing on his head in shit doesn't seem so bad when compared to the pain he felt.

(I read him this last line and he has a good laugh, agreeing. It makes me feel good to make him laugh.)

Happy Independence Day. I expect I'll never again "celebrate" the 4th with a backyard BBQ among family. Just hanging with Mick is celebration enough for me.

We checked out of the hotel early and walked to the bus station. The bus to Puntarenas wouldn't leave for two hours, so we walked the three blocks back to a newish food court near the hotel. Burger King, Ice & Hot (Whatever that is), Church's Chicken and Papa John's Pizza. Three blocks, two worlds. Here it was clean, air conditioned, orderly, neat, and quiet. Safe.

The bus station is dirty, noisy, chaotic (at first glance), spanish speaking. Not so safe.

In the food court we write and read unbothered.

We can read at the station, but always with a watchful eye. Mind your bag, watch who's behind you, be on guard.

The food court could be in South Kumquat, Connecticut or East Blandville, Ohio. The station, Kegalle, Sri Lanka or Managua, Nicaragua.

Given my druthers I'll take the stations every time. Here is life. People scratching out a living, buying cheap food, cheap sandals, cheap clothing, cheap transportation, living what many in the West consider cheap lives. You know it's true. Anyone care how many Iraqis have died in our war? Anyone care?

"Car bomb in Baghdad-Beirut-Darfur-Colombo-Mogodishu (pick one. Or more.) kills four." The CNN crawl marches by without pause.

Mick and I share our thoughts on this. Given the means wouldn't all those folks over at the station like the idea of fresh pizza in a clean, air conditioned environment?

I prefer the station because it is energetic, chaotic (Not really. There IS a system of sorts.) and alive. But, I also have the freedom to move between both worlds. Anytime I get tired of "slumming" or feeling insecure or whatever, all I have to do is produce a piece of plastic and I'm out. Most here and in two-thirds of the world can't do that. It's like I'm cheating.

Tourists say, "I want to see what the authentic natives experience." What is authentic? The "authentic natives" are selling Made-in-Nicaragua (or China) pottery and handicrafts to tourists. That stuff isn't used in any large way in native homes anymore. They use pots and pans like we do. There's little romanticism among natives for that old stuff. If Daniel Boon could have had Goretex and ultralight equipment, don't you think he would have used it?

Anyway...somehow we missed the 10:20AM bus. Either it never came or it drove away right under our noses. So we waited for the 11:30. Lots of time for more inner dialogue. Mick says I like the sound of my own voice. Of course! I've ALWAYS liked the sound of my voice. I think about lots of things, develop ideas and verbalize them. What's not to like?

But, I digress...So after a time Mick says, "Here comes Jesus." I look around and here comes this bearded, bare-foot cat in a red robe.

"Whaddya wanna bet he thinks he's a holy man," I muttered? Sure enough, a couple minutes later he launches into a bible wving spiel. It seems to have little effect and after awhile he shuts up.

We saw him drifting around the station, checking out the contents of a garbage can, testing the coin returns of several pay phones. Later he was walking along across the street.

Eventually our bus to Puntarenas arrived and we got on. It would be a two hour leg and the bus was crammed. Several passengers had to stand in the aisle. We got seats about halfway back. About ten minutes into the tide I look up and, Son-of-a-gun(!), here comes "Jesus" working his way toward the front of the bus. I never saw him get on.

He gets about three rows in front of us and launches into another sermon. Of course it was in Espanol, so I had no idea what he was saying.

The thing was, the guy's voice was BOOMING. There was no ignoring him. But, he's roaring along and no one is paying him the slightest bit of attention. Not even a wince as he blasted into the ears of those standing next to him. Not a roll of the eyes. Nothing. It was like he was invisible.

At one point he turned to face the back of the bus and was facing me. I tried to stare him down, to make him avert his gaze, but to no avail. You can't outstare a whack job.

When we came to his stop he filed past us. He said something I didn't catch. Later Mick said he called us brothers. "Adios, muchacho," I said. You meet all kinds out here on the road to Ithaca.

We got to Puntarenas right at 2:30. A guy on the bus said we'd be in plenty of time for the 3:00 to Jaco. As usual it took a couple minutes to get oriented. I took the opportunity to heed the call of nature. While passing the time facing the bano wall, the 2:30 bus for Jaco pulled out. Never fails.

The next (and FINAL) bus to Jaco left at 4:30. So we had a couple hours to kill. Every restaurant had the Germany-Italy World Cup semi-final on. So we got to see the Italians put the knife into the collective hearts of Germany fans in the final moments of overtime. The anguish on the faces of the German fans in the stadium evoked my own memories of the '92 Pittsburgh Pirate's loss to Atlanta (Where were You When Sid slid?) knocking them out of the World Series.

That's why I will never give my heart over again to a pro sports team. They'll almost always fail to win "The Big One," and the players wouldn't give you the time of day if you met them anyway. (Maybe that's a little harsh. When Ben Roethlisberger, quarterback of the NFL champion Pittsburgh Steelers was sitting in front of me on a recent flight I'm pretty sure he would have given me the time if I had asked.)

Two hours later we hit Jaco. After grabbing a bite we took a cab to Los Suenos condominiums. After three weeks of chicken buses, hostels, casas particulares and generally low-end living, this was of another world. The word "Posh" came immediately to mind. Ridiculously posh for a Central American country. But there it was.

Fireworks were being shot off near the marina. Celebrating American independence in a foreign land.

Another day.