This initial posting is Labor Day, 2016.  And to all the women delivering babies today, a happy Labor Day to all!

Do As I Say!

After preparing for hurricane Hermine’s arrival, I am sitting here in the EasternShoreFishAndGame.com nerve center.  The local newspaper arrived an hour ago, bringing with it so-so information about the Eastern Shore.  One item of note was that President Barack Hussein Obama had just met with Chinese president Xi Jinping, in China.

This meeting was a follow-up to last year’s Paris climate change agreement.  They hailed this a “new era of climate cooperation as the best chance for saving the planet.”

Now that’s powerful stuff.

According to these two comedians, the planet Earth is on the brink of disaster, the result of generations of man-made pollution and over-use of the planet’s finite resources.

This heralded meeting-of-the-minds cemented blather contrived in the previous Paris shindig.  I don’t know what was discussed in Paris because I don’t really care.

No matter what was discussed, the bottom line is that the consequence will wind-up costing American’s more money.  Whether it is for clean water, anti-coal mining, fracking retribution, or carbon tax credits, fees will result in me paying more for the brain trust’s ideas.

Every so often we hear about these critical meetings aimed at correcting some arbitrary goal for fuel mileage, atmospheric carbon dioxide content, or however many parts-per-million particles of the chemical du jour are allowed to invade our lives.

This bunch of egoists gathers to attempt to turn back the hands of time for future generations.  They worry that not enough is ever being done to stem the tide of self-destruction, using phrases like, “we need to do something,” and “the end is near.”

I used the word “egoists” because these people actually believe they have the ability to alter the climate of the planet.  We were supposed to witness dramatic changes in the ozone layer if we abandoned our aerosol deodorants years ago. 

We didn’t.  But that’s because we did not do enough.  Heavy vehicles are gobbling up too much fuel so, they are now being made from papier mâché to satisfy arbitrary Environmental Protection Agency dictates.

All these steps are nonsensical because the Paris accord attendees are no where to be seen during times of dramatic climate issues.

The Eastern Shore received 18 of 21 days of rain this past Spring 2016, Baton Rouge, Louisiana, is recovering from record flooding occurring in August 2016, and now I sit in water-surrounded soggy land.

Switching weather television stations between rain, wind, and tornado destruction in Florida, to potential tidal flooding and wind damage locally, I have become more philosophical.  Weather experts contend nothing can be done to stop these massive destructive forces.

Watching countless leaves blowing past my windows, torrential rains pounding the roof, and silver maple tree branches dropping form decades-old trees, I am pondering how Presidents Obama and Xi are going to stop these destructive hurricanes.

Perhaps some sort of tax – perhaps on free-thinking of the tax payers - will stem the destruction.

Egoists.

Just the Facts

Let’s begin today with some facts.  I am not an athlete by any stretch of the imagination, although I did play baseball, football, basketball, and ran the 880 in track.  I was a so-so contestant who tried their best but felt academics and team-playing was far more important than individualism.

That being said, we now all know why I never got a scholarship for sports or academics.  I simply didn’t deserve one.

Here are some more facts.  A person who was a good baseball pitcher in high school was offered several scholarships to play college baseball.  Those offers were refused because he felt he would rather play football, but was not offered football scholarships.

Eventually, the University of Nevada offered him a football scholarship in 2006 – the only one offered to him because he was a mediocre player.

After graduation from college he landed a spot in the NFL with the San Francisco 49ers.  He signed a 6-year contract worth $126,000,000, with $54,000,000 in potential guarantees.

His stats prove him a somewhat mediocre performer.  In 2015, he passed for 6 touchdowns; he also threw 5 interceptions.  That is not stellar.

This now 28-year old African-American was raised by white parents who may, or may not, have influenced his selfish, child-like behavior.

You see, this self-centered prima donna is Colin Kaepernick.

Self-centered jerk

During the playing of the Star Spangled Banner at a pre-season August 26^th game against the Green Bay Packers, Kaepernick refused to stand to honor the flag, and the men and women who died for it.

When asked about this conduct, he said, "I am not going to stand up to show pride in a flag for a country that oppresses black people and people of color. To me, this is bigger than football and it would be selfish on my part to look the other way. There are bodies in the street and people getting paid leave and getting away with murder."

In other words, the police are bigots, just as the white fans who pay for expensive stadium seats, television viewers who are forced to watch countless ads, and ardent fans who purchase over-priced clothing to show their staunch allegiances.

You see, Kaepernick must have missed the last two presidential elections.  Those were the ones in which racist Americans elected the first African-American president, and the era America saw its first two African-American Attorneys General.  He also failed to see the many generals, police chiefs, senators, congressmen, and judges, who are African-American.

Kaepernick should also be advised that roughly 500,000 illegal aliens enter the United States annually.  Some swim across the Rio Grande, others float on inner tubes across shark-infested waters, while a few are packed into hot trucks, all to come to the greatest country on Earth.

One more fact.  When I played baseball, football, basketball, and ran track, I did it because it was fun; it was a game.  As children we run, ride bicycles, swim, and simply enjoy ourselves often through athletic diversions. 

Most kids do not excel at any of these activities; rather they participate for basic enjoyment.  And rarely do people make annual salaries in excess of $21,000,000.  So to say the people who pay your obscene salary for playing a game are racist demonstrates the level of intelligence of this malcontented whiner.

It seems as though Colin Kaepernick got an education, a great job, a scholarship, and pretty much everything else in life – except discipline.  And that’s too bad.

Quiet!!!

cat·er·waul

ˈkadərˌwôl/

verb

gerund or present participle: caterwauling

1. (of a cat) make a shrill howling or wailing noise.

"the caterwauling of a pair of bobcats"

synonyms:

howl, wail, bawl, cry, yell, scream, screech, yowl, ululate "we could hear those felines caterwauling all night"

A quick run to a shopping place called Walmart, to pick up some provisions, was met with what was once known as Muzak.

Everyone laughed as Muzak because it sold music to hotels, casinos, airlines, and stores.  Their music consisted of popular tunes that were redone to make it more palatable to the everyday shopper.

The Beatles, Aerosmith, The Who, and other groups had their tunes re-orchestrated and recorded to appeal to the people with the true money, the elderly.

My late Father was not a big Aerosmith fan and would likely rip the radio out of a car if he ever heard an Aerosmith song.

This was the type of person for whom Muzak was created.  Often referred to as “elevator music,” Muzak was a successful until it was gobbled up in an acquisition by Mood Media some years ago.

Somewhere along the way, though, Muzak style music was discontinued in many businesses and replaced by “new age” singers and non-singers alike.

In 1978, a movie starring John Belushi was released entitled Animal House.  It was a film about a frat house and its pledges, and the antics surrounding their challenges to authority.

One scene during a pledge toga party centered around a singer/song writer, Stephen Bishop.  Mr. Bishop was seated on a staircase, surrounded by comely coeds, playing hokey folks music on his guitar.

John Belushi’s character descends this staircase and briefly listens.  After a few seconds, Belushi snatches the guitar from Bishop’s hands and proceeds to smash it against the wall rendering it useless for anything except kindling.  He was doing many attendees a service.

I recall this scene every time I enter a store playing one of these new age performers caterwauling while I’m cruising the aisles for paper plates and chicken fingers.

Sounding like a woman being beaten with a violin, these annoying screamers being piped through the PA system could easily replace waterboarding as a method of torture.

Be that as it may, just a few minutes of this aggravating yowling sends me directly to the exit doors.

I’m sure some shoppers enjoy it, but not I.  Shut it off or I’ll not return just so my bleeding ears can heal.  I’m just saying…

Let Go My Lego

My sainted wife was scheduled to meet a previously unknown relative in the form of a small child.  Since they live about 800 miles away from us, the trip is not convenient for anyone involved.

Five years past and this tyke and his Mom were finally “in the area,” staying about only 200 away.  She thought this was a good opportunity to make her move to become acquainted with the remainder of her already sparse family.

She was going solo on this mission.  Gifts were in order.  We set off to find the perfect offerings for a pleasant visit.

Since neither my sainted wife nor I have children, we are absolutely clueless as to what children like or dislike.  This is clear when children of friends stop by and she wants to give the kiddies a glass of scotch rather than lemonade.  But I digress.

A stop at the toy section revealed my true age when 98% of the goods were unidentifiable to me.  In fact, the only items I did recognize were bicycles and a deck of cards.

As a child myself, I was given a stick and an old spatula to play in the dirt around the garden.  I constructed roads, made guard rails, and pushed little toy cars around as a way to occupy my mush-brain years.

Of course I had an Erector Set, but was not allowed to play with it, lest I lose those teeny nuts and bolts that were needed to secure the steel girders together.  Yes, the parts were made from real steel with parts that anyone of any age was able to swallow.  But few did because they were important to the construction process.

In any case, the closest thing to an Erector Set we could find were Legos.  Legos are plastic – made from oil by-products – and sold to environmentalists who want the world to stop oil drilling.

Evidently there are many kits available for purchase to enable children to build upon to create cities, complete with jets, emergency vehicles, and boats.

One item of interest was a pretty large Lego add-on set called Lego Prison Island.  That caught my attention because of the content and because it was on sale.

It seems as though once Lego cities are built, Lego people – also sold separately – can be purchased to make things more realistic.  Crowded streets with Lego people crossing against the light, Lego people throwing trash on the Lego sidewalks, and Lego bus drivers missing Lego passengers at Lego bus stops all add to the reality.

With a well-equipped Lego city, I suppose one could expect Lego people to resort to a life of Lego crime.  In such a place, the down-trodden folks living in the Lego slum might resort to building a Lego meth lab.

Before long, the meth junkies would likely begin burglarizing Lego cars and stealing the Lego car radios to pawn them to get a few Lego bucks to buy more Lego dope.  Eventually, a Lego street gang would start a Lego turf war resulting in many Lego people deaths.

The dead would go the Lego Morgue.

Through the Lego Courthouse, these Lego miscreants would be subject to trial.  Those convicted would be remanded to the aforementioned Lego Prison Island.

Inside the prison were little Lego prisoners replete with prison stripes.  I didn’t see any prison showers or prison shanks but, they’re likely available at an extra cost.

No wonder why kids have it good today.

EST

Last week we took a quick look at Eastern Shore mosquitoes.  I’m not going to rehash that brilliant essay here but, I must add that although it is pretty humorous, it is all true.

This week we’ll examine a phenomenon on The Shore known as EST.

In most circles, EST is an abbreviation for Eastern Standard Time.  CST is short for Central Standard Time, PST would be Pacific Time, and MST is Mountain Standard Time.

However, the EST of which I write is not Eastern Standard Time rather, it is Eastern Shore Time.

It seems that on the thin strip of land known as The Eastern Shore, a mystical long-sought after physics anomaly that involves a time warp can be found that would definitely make Albert Einstein proud.

This EST can be better described as a loafer’s dream.  No, I don’t mean those shoes into which owners insert pennies; these loafers are the kind of people who loudly complain about their inability to find work on The Shore.

Jobs abound here, some varying because of crop harvesting or climate.  But many other jobs are available year-round and with abundance.  Perhaps the pay is about the minimum wage level, but they exist.

BTW, those morons who demand minimum wage be arbitrarily elevated to points of $15 per hour and beyond, should realize their skills are not commensurate with more money.  But, I digress.

EST is a syndrome that affects most hourly employees on The Shore. 

An example would be calling a plumber to rectify a leak.  It is not a big deal to the plumber because it’s not in the plumber’s house.  A call to the plumber is usually greeted by an answering machine.

A reasonable time to wait for a return call would be two days.  On EST, that time warp makes two days two months.

Electricians are very similar in their contact skills.  They sometimes return calls to schedule appointments, sometimes not.

As a note of interest, I left a voicemail message at the Bank of America.  The number I called was clearly printed on a business card.  Of course the phone was busy and directed me to an answering device; I left a unmistakably concise message with my return phone number.  That was in 2008.  I’m still awaiting a call from them.  I don’t think they’re going to call.

In any case, if we jump back to paragraph eight, I mentioned the factor of skills and money and the association therewith.

Perhaps all this lack of communications is not about a time warp, or not about being too lazy to acquire a small job.  Perhaps, just perhaps, these “professionals” are simply too stupid to know how to dial a cell phone.

Cell phones are those thingies you see people holding up to their ears while traveling the highways and byways of America.  Those new phone thingies have no wires, and so are able to be lugged around without barriers.

This ability to have people more available to others just by punching in a few numbers is nothing short of miraculous.

And perhaps those same people who receive calls could learn to dial out – because those phone thingies actually call out – to return calls to clients who will pay the plumbers and electricians.  Maybe those trades-people would quit complaining about finding work.

Sorry.  That Eastern Shore Time thing is real, but it is also self-imposed.  Mr. Einstein, I apologize for getting your hopes up.

Buzzzzzzzzzzzz!!!

Living on the Eastern Shore one can easily find sage advice about the environment, and most is accurate.

One of these adages is “Red sky at night, sailor’s delight; red sky in the morning, sailor’s warning.”  This refers to the way the sun reflects off the cloud cover thereby creating a prismatic effect which makes the sky appear different colors at different times.

Actually, it’s pretty accurate in predicting inclement weather for the beach-goers and water-lovers.

Then, we arrive at the one about food.  The Shore is covered with crops to include soy beans, potatoes, wheat, tomatoes, and corn.

Although I get awfully excited about Shore produce, I get especially giddy about its corn.  Driving down this narrow strip of land, one can see corn growing for mile upon mile. 

The corn adage is “Knee high by the Fourth of July.”  This means that a good, healthy, abundant crop can be expected.  This year’s crop was head-high on July 4^th which may mean we’ll be paving roads with corn cobs.

Finally we have the adage I coined to describe the bug situation on The Shore.  “If it’s June, you’ll be swarmed with mosquitoes the size of hummingbirds until November.”

Of course it’s not as catchy as the weather and corn adages but, it is every bit as accurate. 

If you’ve never been to The Shore, you are missing swarms of hungry mosquitoes buzzing about your head, arms, and legs.  They regularly bite through clothing and, if you wear glasses, sneak behind them to try to attack your eyelids.

Bug spray sometimes works, but not always.  I regularly mow my lawn and can attest to the voracity of these annoying creatures.

While we’re on the subject of bug juice, let me try to explain something about its chemical make up form a non-scientific view.

With the diseases spread by skeeters, local “officials” are quick to help control the spread of maladies such as malaria, West Nile virus, dengue fever, and yellow fever.  This year we have a new disease called Zika, which is a virus spread by – among other methods – mosquitoes.

Those previously mentioned officials suggest we empty plant saucers and clean rain gutters to eliminate breeding areas for these buzzing pests.  Aerial spraying is too expensive and would likely take precious tax dollars away from vital programs such as the local library.

In the meantime, we’ll deal with malformed babies, flu-like symptoms, and death in lieu of spending monies for pest eradication.  Job well done!

Still, you can use bug spray on your exposed body parts to repel any flying threat bent on exsanguination.  Keep in mind that I sprayed up with this juice and it literally melted my watch crystal. 

On my lower extremities, this lubrication came in contact with kitchen chair leg.  It actually removed the paint and glued it to my leg.

If it removes paint, how good can it be for your skin?

In any case, I’d like to change my personal adage to “I wish Accomack County officials would do the jobs their paid for.”