Experts vs. Kooks

Things have changed dramatically over the years in the science world.  As a child, I was very interested in the sciences but eventually changed my mind of pursuing a career in that field because of a lack of cogent answers to questions.

 

In elementary school, science was taught to us by nuns who were not scientists.  They read from texts that gave us “facts” written by textbook authors who may, or may not, had a background in the subject about which they were writing.

 

Way back when, our lessons included the demise of dinosaurs.  Their carcasses were eventually covered with foliage that essentially composted their bodies into oil, hence the term “fossil fuel.”

 

Not being a scientist, I find it hard to imagine there were that many dinosaurs roaming the planet to result in the amount of oil we have in the world.  Still, that was gospel.  Amen.

 

Protagonists of questionable science can be found nearly everywhere.  It seems as though everyone is an expert on the contrived problem of “global climate change.”  The use of aerosol deodorants was the ultimate cause of the diminishing ozone layer.  Ozone is a gas that protects Earth’s inhabitants from being baked by the sun’s rays.  Ozone was allegedly disappearing at an alarming rate so, a ban on aerosol products using certain chemicals needed to be banned.  They were eliminated from store shelves decades ago but, clearly they were not the problem as society is on the verge of ultimate destruction from global warming.  No, it is global cooling.  Uh, maybe we’ll simply call it global climate change.  That, amigo, is weather.

 

And, the expert scientists continue with their drivel.

 

Science used to be a, well, science.  That field was one which was based on facts – cold, hard facts – that needed test upon test to prove or disprove a theory.  People who spurted out random ideas were known as “kooks.”  Kooks were merely average citizens who came up with nutty ideas about things such as NASA’s space rocket launches causing hurricanes.  Nonsense.

 

But, these kooks have become the norm for many world citizens who hang on their every word.  There is little science behind the alarm of the planet spontaneously combusting because I tote my groceries home in plastic bags.

 

Fortunately, we have the benefit of renowned scientist Leonardo DiCaprio, who must have secretly received his doctorate in ecological sciences, pointing out our shortcomings on how to keep our planet inhabitable.

 

Yet, the answers to questions I posed as a child are still unanswered.  The beginning of civilization on Earth is easily explained by evolutionists.  They believe that the Earth was revolving around the Sun, minding its own business, when a lighting bolt struck a pool of ammonia, creating an amoeba. This one-celled critter eventually evolved into a fish, then a dinosaur, then an ape, and now man.  These evolutionists are the same people who laugh at my belief in God and God’s creating the environment and man.  No word on where evolution scientists think the Earth, ammonia, or lightning came from. 

 

It is the thinness of such facts that make me believe in God and creationism even more.

 

Now, the scientists are saying the seven continents were all in one clump at one time.  Yes, if you take the continents and maneuver them around, you will find they fit pretty well – much like a jigsaw puzzle.  This new theory overlooks the fact that the continents are anchored to the ground through mountains and volcanoes from which many land masses arose.  Scientists think these continents moved around the oceans like air rafts in a swimming pool.

 

According to these geologists, this idea would explain how wooly mammoths and apes and other animal species wound up in places that would seem odd by today’s standards.

 

Perhaps I should feel grateful I didn’t pursue a career in the sciences as they are not as solid as demonstrating proof of much of anything.  But, don’t call me a kook, either.

Off We Go

 

We are all familiar with the mystery or suspense movie scene in which the person about to be killed reveals to his assassin that he has strategically hidden information about the identity of his killer.  In the event of his death, that package of incriminating evidence will be sent to the authorities, guaranteeing an arrest and conviction.

 

The good news is the killer usually relents, with a sneer, and allows the potential victim to live, thereby giving the story’s author more time to create more twists and turns than Chubby Checker on a skateboard.

 

My sainted wife and I just returned from a lengthy road trip after some time away from home.  It seemed as though we were packing for a covered wagon trip across the Great Divide.

 

While dutifully packing our spacious SUV for the ride, I actually incorporated one of those nifty baskets that slide into the trailer receiver, allowing for the moving of even more unnecessary junk.

 

Our trips also include the transportation of Smokey the Cat.  He has a particularly large metal cage in which he silently rests.  The cage size precludes us from fitting three sofas and a recliner hence, the exterior basket.

 

Packing must begin two nights before the actual trip so as not to spook Smokey who is truly adept at hiding.  Although he doesn’t scream during the fifteen hours of the fifteen-hour trip, he doesn’t enjoy being locked in a cage for length of time, either.

 

He has many placed to hide, and does so, well.  Finding him to situate him in his cage is laborious.  So, we fake him out and rely on his short-term memory loss to pack a day in advance.  Then, we pounce on him before he knows it.

 

But, it’s my sainted wife that gives me chest pains.  Much like that aforementioned movie scenario, I am telling all of you that my sainted wife is ardently trying to kill me.

 

She knows what our car looks like but fails to see the volume of space available.  When we pack, she invariably proclaims she has only “two small bags.”  These “two small bags” are roughly the size of sea bags – akin to the type in which sailors schlep their belongings around the world for two year periods.

 

This regular surprise is presented to me just as the cooler the size of a snowmobile is stuffed into the remaining two-foot square space.

 

“Here are my ‘little’ bags,” she cheerily announces.

 

With Smokey looking on in bemusement, I offer her ‘thanks’ to begin the unpacking and rearrangement process.

 

T.J. Lawrence, also known as Lawrence of Arabia, didn’t take this much stuff on his adventure in the Sahara Desert.

 

With the trip now delayed another two hours, we finally have everything in place.  Six miles down the road, though, my sainted wife mumbles something about stopping for ice for the cooler.  Too bad the cooler is now tucked neatly beneath the “little bags” and cast iron bathtub.  Smokey grins over the situation.

 

In the event of my untimely death, call the police and tell them she was responsible.

Radio Mall

While traveling the country with my trusty radio, I visited many, many cities.  I take a radio with me as sort of a security blanket.  Most shows I listen to are syndicated and therefore may be picked up nearly anywhere a signal exists.  There are, however, some that are just local in nature but, not unique by any means.

 

One type of radio show that I enjoy is the classified ads show that airs on more stations in more places than one would think.

 

Not being certain of the origin if these as shows, one this is certain – they are entertaining.

 

The Eastern Shore has its share of these shows which features callers inviting listeners to either sell or buy something, and making those items seem quite in-demand.

 

After a few weeks of listening to these programs, it would appear as though there is nothing one could not buy.  Items include pecans, apples, walnuts, and tomatoes, as most folks have access to various fruits and nuts on the Shore.  Vehicles are common with cars and trucks leading the way, with bicycles, mopeds, and jet skis, following close behind.  Furniture and appliances – with refrigerators the most popular – can be had here.  Clothes of nearly every size and shape are also available for weddings, proms, and even bee keeping.  Kayaks, boats, and motors abound, as well.

 

But the most fun calls come from locals selling unwanted rabbits, ducks, chickens, Guinea fowl, and turkeys.  Often described as “laying chickens,” or “producing rabbits,” one would like to think of otherwise livestock and farm animals.  The occasional stray cat or dog also makes its way to the daily list of items that “must go.”

 

Then there are the “regulars” who call in practically every day.  They appear to be lonely and less-than-connected with the real world by desperately looking for hats or free “unwanted” cars.

 

Too often, the callers slur their opportunity to reach their audience with unhelpful drawls or dialects that are indecipherable.  This is where a quick on-line visit to the host radio station’s website can be of assistance in figuring out what the actual item or description was.

 

It becomes obvious when viewing those websites, that you were not alone in missing the gist of the call or details connected therewith.  Very often, the written descriptions are equally vague or miswritten. 

 

“Stainless steal sink,” is exactly what?  “Bikes for sale: $25 each, three for $75;” really?  “Free Cocker Spaniel; $50 re-homing fee.”  What is a re-homing fee, and why is that “free” dog now fifty bucks?

 

And, anyone looking for a used riding lawnmower should wait for someone selling a “grasscutter.”  Beware of grasscutter sellers when they advertise their machines as “in great shape, runs good, no battery.”  If they don’t have batteries, they don’t run.

 

I have personally sold and bought stuff on these sites with great success, and will continue to use these tools as long as they are available.

 

In any case, these ad shows can be entertaining and insightful with free advertising on both the radio and the internet, reaching a fairly large audience in both media.

Filing Woes

Not all of America is digitized.  My Mother, who is well into her 80’s, is.  She recently bought a new laptop computer and uses it with aplomb.  But, she still relies on a Rolodex to maintain most of her telephonic contacts.

 

For those of you too young to remember record albums, a Rolodex is a desktop device that holds small cards attached to rings that permit its user to flip through them.  There are alphabetical separators to allow for quick retrieval of names and associated numbers and any other data desired that is placed on the cards by the user.  Often, addresses, birthdays, or other critical information can be included to assist the user and make them more efficient.

 

Although somewhat antiquated, a Rolodex has its place as a powerful tool to find contacts in an otherwise automated world.

 

While visiting my Mother, she needed to find a phone number of a friend of hers which led to the emergence of her Rolodex, which is where this story begins.

 

She was searching for an out-of-town lady friend named “Bobbie.”  After thumbing through this Rolodex, she displayed some facial frustration.

 

“Can’t find it?” I asked.

 

“I know it’s in here.  I’m just not sure where,” was her reply.

 

Logic would dictate it should have been filed under either “B” for Bobbie or under “J” for Johnson, Bobbie’s surname.  It wasn’t under either.  Pirate Blackbeard could find his loot along the North Carolina coast easier than we could locate Bobbie’s number.

 

Mom is a pretty-well organized person with her tax paperwork in the appropriate folder, banking stuff in another, and her medications arranged according to times of application.  Unfortunately her phone number filing system isn’t that efficient.

 

“Try looking under ‘F’ for friend,” she offered.

 

No dice.  I even checked under “P” for pal, and “A” for acquaintance, to no avail.

 

Eventually we found it filed under “C” for Christmas as she sends Bobbie an annual Christmas card.

 

Searching this filing nightmare for a doctor is also grueling.  Rather than filing her doctors under “D”, she files them under their names – some under their first, others under their last, and even other under their specialty such as ‘podiatrist.’

 

Such treasure hunts are unnerving coming from a woman who places her spices in the cupboard alphabetically.

 

Since Mom also uses a cell phone, I offered to transfer these paper numbers into her cell phone directory.  She expressed consternation about being able to find them once in that electronic directory.  Do we file them by first name or last name?

 

We need a filing convention to simplify this otherwise daunting task of sorting and e-filing phone numbers.

 

Much like a shady business, we’re going to have to set up two sets of numbers for her.  It appears as though she’ll end up with one set of just phone numbers and the other with addresses.  Otherwise, most of her Rolodex contacts will be in the Christmas card section.  Except the eye doctor and podiatrist, that is.

What Became Of…

It has been years since we heard of terrible calamities to the Earth and its occupants, and now is as good a time as any to revisit those dire warnings.

 

In the past few decades, we have heard Chicken Little’s cry about the falling sky of our planet.  Global warming would have devastating effects on the Earth, causing it to eventually spontaneously combust.  The definitive culprit was aerosol deodorant.  Once banned, all would be good but, it wasn’t.

 

We, as a people, needed to be responsible and demonstrate our verve by recycling bottles, cans, and newspapers.  If we only recycled, it would be a positive step to saving the planet.

 

Unfortunately, picking up all that separated trash demanded the use of a second garbage truck which resulted in twice the pollution.

 

Pretending that the paper bags issued to grocery shoppers needed to quickly cease because cutting all those pulp-wood pines endangered the Earth even more. Plastic bags were the exchange because we could now save trees.  But, plastic bags don’t decay in landfills so, they needed to be outlawed, too. 

 

Cloth bags seemed to be the reasonable alternative to both paper and plastic sacks.  Once again, that reasoning would be flawed as so many germs remain in the used bags, they are now causing severe illnesses.  All this would lead to “global warming;” those words were changed to “climate change” when we had record snowfalls, debunking any kind of warming.  Simply put, we Southerners call this “winter and summer.”

 

Then, there was the Three Mile Island (TMI) incident.  TMI is a nuclear reactor in Pennsylvania that had released radioactive particles into the air in 1979.  It was subsequently shut down amid protests, hearings, and movies about the catastrophe the allegedly poisoned thousands of nearby residents.  It was put back on-line in 2010 and, we are all still alive.

 

Next we visit that summer bane, mosquitoes.  The Shore is chock full of skeeters, and big ones, at that.  Rivaling sparrows, in size, they are aggressive bring all sorts of diseases including West Nile Virus.  Each summer the media floods the airwaves with warnings about the dangers of being bitten by these critters and how to avoid them by emptying plant saucers, changing bird baths, and ridding ones property of old tires – all of which allow water to accumulate where these pests breed.

 

Each year we buy can upon can of bug spray but still get a bite here and there and, we remain alive.

 

Other hype that seems endless concerns snowstorms, nor’easters, hurricanes, and droughts.  We are able to cope with these natural disasters not without inconvenience and discomfort.  We pool our resources and help one another when the time calls for assistance; we endure.  By the way, the Earth is till spinning.

 

We were deluged with bad news about the economy in 2009.  The government hastily passed a $1,000,000,000,000 bailout that was needed to help keep people employed.  It didn’t and we are further indebt than before.

 

Of interest to fisherman and boaters, hydrilla, an invasive underwater plant species was found to have crept into fresh water lakes and rivers across the eastern United States.  Its presence meant the demise of all where it resides.  Hydrilla’s existence spelled trouble for boaters and angler, alike.  In reality, this water weed has provided a haven for breeding bass and stripers and panfish – a pleasant side effect that has proven the aqua-biologists wrong.

 

In addition, we needed “free universal healthcare.”  It is not free nor universal.  Still, the Chicken Little’s garner all the press.

 

Instead of listening to all this bunk, we should focus on getting all the facts and keeping our Congressman and Senators honest.

Random Thoughts

Politicians, too often, forget they were hired by us, work for us, and need to heed us to keep their jobs.  If they forget those things, they should be fired by us when they don’t do what we want them to do.  It’s a job.

 

What’s the big deal with corned beef and cabbage?

 

Newspaper funnies are no longer funny.

 

People have tried for years to evade smoke from cigarettes and cigars.  They enact laws to prohibit use of a legal product which is heavily taxed in order to discourage its use.  In some cities, smoking in your car or apartment is illegal.  It’s interesting that a new push is on to legalize smoking marijuana.  I suppose that smoke is less offensive.

 

We regularly hear folks tell us that dogs are smarter than cats.  Cats poop in a box when it is raining outside and cover it up when they go outside.  Dogs don’t, hence cats are smarter.

 

Complaints are heard about the high cost of insurance, food, and gas.  But, we think nothing of spending in the neighborhood of $100 per month for internet service.

 

Microwave pizza is still awful after thirty years.

 

People pay more for bottled water than gasoline, and complain about the price of gas.

 

Women who often say, “I don’t care what other people think,” are very concerned about what other people think.

 

Weather forecasters would do better to get real jobs in which they need to be correct.

 

You never want to hear a doctor say, “Ooops!”

 

Where does all the toilet paper go?

 

My doctor told me to exercise more.  I offered to let him exercise with me.  He declined.

 

My sainted wife is at the store so often I suggested she get a job there.  And a discount.

 

It’s absurd that we can teach Islam principles in school but not say, “Merry Christmas.”  What happened to that church and state thing?

 

Why do people keep snakes as pets?

 

I wonder what those tattoos you got at age twenty will look like at age seventy.

 

Our U.S. attorney general said it was okay to kill Americans with drones domestically.

 

There are so many stupid people in this world you would think schools were outlawed.

 

Nobody counts change anymore.

 

It seems as though every kid has ADHD.

 

The lines in parking lots are there for a reason.

 

A former friend was sitting at my kitchen table when she got a phone call, looked at the number and said, “Not him again.”  Now I know why she never answered when I called, and you know why she is my former friend.

 

I could use a big lottery win right now.

 

Keep an eye out for knuckleheads with Confederate flags in the back windows, blaring rap music.  They’re actually pretty easy to spot.

 

Thanks for reading!

 

Excuse me while I get the cat more toilet paper.

Broken Glass

In the 1960’s, women saw the civil rights movement as a vehicle to attain their own idea of privileges perceived to be missing from their lives.

 

Jumping aboard the protest bandwagon, countless women across the country took to the streets to burn their brassieres and proudly carry novel signs with kitchy sayings.  Soon, the hungry media picked up these antics and carried them as stories about the downtrodden feminine gender.

 

This was the birth of the ‘women’s movement’ and encompassed everything from jobs to reproduction.  It was a monumental time for these women but, it continues today.

 

Yes, it was those same women who burned their bras that also gleefully threw their underwear on stage to male singers such as Elvis Presley and Tom Jones.  They wanted to be free of men but with men, at the same time.

 

This quite perplexing display of demands led America in various directions.  They claimed that a woman could do anything a man could do, only better.

 

A Miss title was changed to Ms. which confused those Mrs. titles.  That was fine since married women so desired to separate themselves from that dirty word “married.”

 

Carefully watching from the sidelines, many men witnessed women contorting facts to achieve such lofty goals as legalizing abortion, breaking the proverbial corporate glass ceiling, and wearing pants.

 

All these efforts brought us such illustrious female figures as Danica Patrick and Lauren Silberman.

 

It the event you were in a coma for the past month or so, Danica Patrick is a female racecar driver.  She drove an Indy car for several years and decided to switch to NASCAR to conquer a real challenge.  The Nationwide Series, which is a transitional league for less-experienced drivers, hosted her.  She didn’t do well.

 

Nonetheless, she was given a ride in the Sprint Cup Series – the big boy league – and qualified for the Daytona 500 in the pole position.  That is quite a feat that made many people proud.  Sportscasters fawned over her accomplishment while the media left race fans with the impression she was the only driver entered in that race.  She wasn’t.

 

Likening her pole-winning achievement to curing cancer, she finished a strong tenth place.  But, she broke the good ol’ boys barrier which delighted race announcer Darryl Waltrip to no end.

 

She dutifully proved she could compete with men on a level ‘playing field.’  Still, that was no the end of the good news for the fairer sex.

 

Lauren Silberman had a hankering to break the gender barrier in professional football.  Ms. Silberman tried out as a place kicker to much hoopla.  Once again, the media made quite a spectacle of this event.

 

She teed up the football and with a swift arching rotation of her right leg kicked the ball an astonishing 19 yards!  Her second effort made it roughly 13 yards.  Apparently, the NFL was not especially interested in her spectacular athletic abilities.  Still, she tried to prove the naysayers wrong.

 

Women in the military are akin to this display of the Women vs. Men battle in civilian life.  It seems as though women have been met with the law of unintended consequences in this struggle, though.  They have proven themselves as fit as men and may now be subject to registering with the Selective Service for draft during a crisis, as a result.

 

Unfortunately, we still have gender-segregated sports including basketball, baseball, tennis, and golf.  I’m not sure why now that women have proven they can compete with men.

 

Good luck to all those competitive members of society who have so much to prove.  You go, girl!