Family Feud Futility

When roaming through remote Great Lakes country, media options can be very limited…and often times frustrating. While Leah has her Kindle, and I have my blog, sometimes it’s nice to lounge after dinner and watch television. However, settling in at RV parks with poor TV and WiFi reception has become increasingly routine on this journey. But we will not be deterred.

As with every new campground site setup, we crank up the antennae and run the auto program, if only to prove to ourselves that, once again, there is nothing to watch but God TV–at best, a righteous and self-fulfilling prophecy.

On the occasion that we pulled into our newest destination on the edge of Munising, Wisconsin, we did our due diligence to raise the antennae and run the channels.

“Hey Neal, we got 5 channels coming through on digital air,” Leah exclaimed.

Having left the Apostle Islands, I concluded that it was probably God’s will.

The next voice I heard belonged to Steve Harvey. He was introducing the Garrett family from Conway, Arkansas, and their opponent, the Crosby family from Bonnor Springs, Kansas. Perhaps, it was some kind of omen that we were picking up the digital signal from the local FOX affiliate in Duluth. Or maybe it was my penance.

“Gimme Dante [Garrett] and Mike [Conway], and let’s get this feud started. One hundred people were surveyed and asked, ‘Before a date, name a food a flat-chested woman might stuff in her bra,'” mused Steve.

Dante beat Mike to the buzzer. “Apple,” he asserted, and quickly got blasted with a superimposed “X” over his face.

“What!? Are you kidding me, an apple?” I asked.

Harvey turned to Mike and reiterated, “Before a date, name a food a flat-chested woman might stuff in her bra.”

“Onion,” announced Mike, which also earned him a shiny red X.

Harvey turned to Dante’s wife, Shawnte for an answer. “Pear,” she answered.

Another X.

Steve crossed over to Jessica Crosby and appealed for a correct answer. “Before a date, name a food a flat-chested woman might stuff in her bra,” he pleaded.

“Watermelon,” she proclaimed with certainty.

It turns out that Melons/Watermelon was the #4 answer. The Crosbys decided to play.

Leah and I laughed uncontrollably.

“Really!? I can’t believe that answer was up there,” said Leah.

Dustin suggested coconut, which got him an X. But Jen thought that biscuits were the best way to fill out a bra.

Surprisingly, so did the judges, as Bread/Buns was revealed as the #2 answer.

Steve Harvey approached Sandy Crosby next. “Peach,” she affirmed, and consequently, accrued a second X.

Steve returned to Mike. “Your family has two strikes against them. One more strike and the Garretts can steal your money. Give me the name of a food that a flat-chested woman might stuff in her bra,” he pitched.

“I think she would pick an orange,” expressed Mike.

Sho’nuff, it was the #1 answer.

Moving down the line, Steve turned to Shawnte again, and repeated the survey question.

“How ’bout a pepper. Y’know, like a bell pepper,” thought Jessica.

“Who are these people!?” I exclaimed.

“I think the whole question is ridiculous,” mused Leah.

“It’s not how I would prepare stuffed peppers,” I scoffed.

Meanwhile, the Garretts were huddling and wildly gesticulating behind their stage props as they considered their options.

Steve Harvey strode across the stage to the Garrett family’s side, and announced that the Garrett family can steal the Crosby’s money, if they can come up with another answer that’s on the board.

Dante Garrett steps out from the huddle and turns to Steve, “We’re gonna go with chicken.”

“That’s right, Steve. Y’know, like chicken…breasts, an’ all?” Shawnte mimed with imaginary breasts.

Leah and I were shaking the Airstream with laughter.

The TV image froze, then sputtered, then randomly pixilated all around the screen before vanishing. My television reception was lost, and the screen went blank.

“That’s how it ends for us!? I shreiked.

“What about their answer? Did the Garretts steal the Crosby’s money or not?

“I guess we’ll never know,” Leah speculated.

“You’re not curious?” I wondered.

“Not really. But I think it’s such an absurd answer–it wouldn’t surprise me if it was up there.”

“I guess we’ll never know,” I shrugged.

The following day, Leah and I hiked over .4 mi. of boardwalk to get a look at Wagner Falls.

Wagner graffic

Because the forecast was uncertain, with a high probability of rain, we figured on a nearby activity that wouldn’t require much effort or time,

Wagner Fall

but still gave the impression that we did something active.

water (2)

Our next stop was the Musining Public Library for its WiFi connection. Because the library shares space with the neighboring high school the librarian personally entered the password…as if that was going to stop me from selling it to coeds, who would use it to stream porn instead of doing school research.
Once Leah finished downloading a series or two or three from Netflix, we were ready to go.

“By the way…I have the answer from Family Feud. I know how it ends.” I teased.

“So tell me,” she coaxed.

“But you said you didn’t care. You said the whole thing was stupid,” I argued. “Tell you what…

I’ll let you know online…”

Family Feud (2)

And that’s why I miss TV from time to time.

Name Changer

Ocuppying nearly four square miles and located between the Upper and Lower Peninsulas of Michigan, Mackinac Island was home to the Odawas, and the epicenter of Great Lakes fur trading before the British established a strategic fort on the island during the American Revolutionary War. 

Native Americans referred to Mackinac Island as Mitchimakinak because of its likeness to a “Great Turtle.” The French fur traders preserved the Native American pronunciation, but spelled it as they heard it: Michilimackinac.

Michilimackinac

However, the British anglicized what they heard, spelling it Mackinaw. Regardless, the pronunciation for Mackinac and Mackinaw are the same, with an emphasis on aw.

Today, most tourists and vacationers take the ferry from Mackinaw City to Mackinac Island from May to November. Leah and I carried our own bikes aboard for an extra $10 a piece.

ferry pier

On the approach, the French colonial architecture was charming.

shoreline

We recovered our bikes, and headed toward the water, dodging pedestrians and horse poop, but keeping pace with other cyclists and horse-drawn carriages.

taxi transport

It was a step back in time, and a peddler’s paradise.

Closing my eyes, I could focus on the sound of a world without machines, because  motorized travel has been outlawed since 1898.

An 8-mile highway loops around the island, hugging the shore,

infinite water and sky

offering amazing views of Lake Huron’s crystal clarity,

tide pool

and access to Arch Rock, a popular geologic limestone formation close to downtown.

Arch Rock

Equally impressive is Mackinac Island’s Grand Hotel,

Grand Hotel

opened in 1887,

Grand Hotel award

and still operated by the Musser family through three generations.

The all-wood hotel boasts the longest porch in the world, at 660 ft. (200 m),

Grand Hotel entrance

and overlooks a picturesque tea garden.

Grand Hotel with flowers

Nearby, the Little Stone Church,

Little Stone Church

constructed in 1904 with field stone offers local history through its colorful stained glass windows.

stained glass window

After a full afternoon of cycling and sightseeing, Leah and I were aboard Shepler’s ferry, heading back to Mackinaw City.

During the 20-minute return ride, I thought about the variant spelling and linguistics of Mackinac/Mackinaw, and its similarity to immigrants who passed through Ellis Island and emerged with new surnames, courtesy of disinterested immigration officials. 

So what are the chances, a real Shlepper immigrated to America and his name was changed to Shepler?

Imagine the public relations coup for his offspring today.

 

Agawa Rock Pictographs

The trail was advertised as 0.5 km.

“It’s probably very steep,” Leah figures.

“How hard can it be?” I wonder, still a skeptic.

“It says so in the brochure,” she states. “I quote, ‘Caution is advised when venturing onto this rock ledge due to its slope and the unpredictable nature of Lake Superior and its wave action.'”

“Sounds like fun. We should see it,” I suggest. “This is ancient historical shit!”

“It sounds a lot like the petroglyphs that we saw in Nevada,” she offers.

“You mean the Atlatl Rock in Valley of Fire State Park,” I acknowledge.

“Exactly!” she states.

“But this one’s on the water, and not the desert,” I tease.

“I know that, smart ass, and it’s also harder to get to, so you need to be careful!” Leah lectures.

“Like I said, how hard can it be?” I reiterate.

We park the truck only minutes from our campsite at Agawa Bay, and enter the trailhead where we are met with a screaming red sign:

warning (2)

“Like I said…” drops Leah.

I deflect the dig. “Check it out.” I direct Leah’s attention to a different sign to our right–a red diamond hammered to a tree with a white arrow and 400 km on it.

“That’s where the trail begins. And according to that sign, we’ve already walked 20% of the trail!”

It’s true the trail is rugged and a scramble. The descent runs through a narrow chasm, over sharp boulders and bulging roots. But it’s only treacherous if wearing flip flops, which a student rangerette at the visitor’s center admits can be a problem with some hikers.

Halfway to our destination, a gash in the cliff exposes a 10 ft granite chunk mysteriously wedged between darkness and daylight.

split rock (2)

In 15 minutes we arrive at a clearing of flat rock where the sky opens up to the water. A colorful cliff 15 stories high looms above us, grabbing my attention.

Painted Rock

Leah is content holding onto a pipe rail that separates the adventurous from the cautious.

“Are you coming?” I ask.

“Down there? Not a chance!” Leah answers instinctively.

A short drop onto a wet ledge of granite sloping into Lake Superior takes added time, but planting my feet with measured steps is the best method for staying safe.

on a ledge
courtesy of Leah

Knotted ropes threaded through embedded pipes are there to assist the daredevils who spill into 50° F water.

from Picturegraph ledge

Once I get my footing, I can sidle across the ledge for a better look at the cliff face.

painted rockface

Venturing further out on the ledge, I meet Mishipeshu, the Great Lynx, who was empowered by the ancient Ojibways to control Lake Superior.

Mishibizhiw Great Lynx, who controlled Lake Superior

There are dozens of sacred drawings set in stone, dating back to the 17th century, but most are faded and nearly unrecognizable from eons of sun, water, ice and wind. Their message remains unknown, but experts reason that the pictographs depict historical events, and could signify manitous from shamanistic ceremonies.

I carefully manuever onto terra firma,

Agawa Rock Lake Superior (3)

and we hike back to the parking lot.

“That was amazing, down there,” I exclaim.

“It was alright,” notes Leah.

“But you never got to see the pictographs,” I mention.

“That’s OK. You did all the hard work for me. I’ll just have a look at your photographs,” she laughs.

 

 

 

Great Lakes Hyperbole

Of course, the Great Lakes are great; they constitute the world’s largest above-ground freshwater system in the world, containing about 18 percent of the world’s supply.

However, beyond its scale (larger than all the Eastern seaboard states combined), what about all the other awesome attractions that border its shorelines? Are they equally as great, or big, or best, or exclusive?

Let’s take a look:

Given the many possibilities for food around the Great Lakes, the area’s largest hamburger rests atop Burger King in Niagara Falls, ON.

Burger King

And the largest hotdog can be found in Mackinaw City at Wienerlicious.

Wienerlicious (2)

Both can be purchased with the world’s largest nickel…

biggest nickel

the brainchild of Dr. Ted Szilva,

Dr. Rred Szilva (2)

and on display at Sudbury’s Dynamic Earth.

Dynamic Earth

Only one mile away, Inco’s superstack–the tallest chimney in the western hemisphere–rises 1250 feet atop Vale Inco’s Copper Cliff processing facility–the largest nickel smelting operation in the world.

INCO Superstack

Nowhere as tall, Castle Rock (commonly referred to as Pontiac’s Lookout) is a natural 200-foot limestone sea chimney…

Castle Rock

overlooking Lake Huron and Interstate 75,

I-75

and considered the oldest lookout in St. Ignace, Michigan…until the Mackinac Bridge was built in 1957.

Mackinaw Suspension Bridge

Spanning the Straits of Mackinac, and connecting the Upper and Lower Peninsulas of Michigan, the Mackinac Bridge is hailed as the longest suspension bridge in the western hemisphere.

Building the bridge

Although less of an engineering feat, the upside-down house, built in Niagara Falls, measures up to 1200 square feet of topsy-turvy, making it Canada’s most unusual landmark.

upside down house

Nearby, at Niagara on the Lake, locals can tee up at Niagara Golf Club, the oldest existing golf course (albeit, nine holes) in North America.

Niagara Golf

In Midland, Ontario, a grain elevator looms over a Georgian Bay harbor, featuring North America’s largest historic outdoor mural created by Fred Lenz.

Midland mural

mural history

History also abounds at Colonial Michilimackinac–

Fort Michilimackinac

a reconstructed 18th century frontier fortress originally garrisoned by the French during 1715, and later controlled by the British.

3 British Stooges

After 60 years of excavation, valuable relics from fort living continue to be unearthed, making it the longest ongoing archeological dig in North America.

digger

One of the many buildings discovered and recreated inside the fort belonged to Ezekiel Solomon, a fur trader who has been celebrated as Michigan’s first Jewish settler.

Solomon House

Solomon plaque (2)

And then there’s Niagara Falls, a natural wonder that needs little hyperbole.

While not the highest, or the widest falls, its combined falls (Horseshoe Falls, American Falls, and Bridal Veil Falls) qualify Niagara Falls as the most powerful, forming the highest flow rate of any waterfall in North America.

Niagara Falls horseshoe

While this “Great” list may not represent the best of all gilded attractions in the Great Lakes area to date, it’s the only list I’m likely to compile

…until the next one.

Rain or Shine…or Snow

It’s been two weeks since crossing over into Canada, and it’s been mostly cloudy and wet so far. I don’t know if this is a cause and effect circumstance, but locals are approaching me with snorkels and flippers.

The weather has put a damper on our outdoor time while extending our Airstream time. The mosquitoes have been hungry and swarming around the clock, turning mosquito swatting into a cabin past-time.

Nevertheless, it hasn’t been completely bleak and dismal. We had agreeable weather during a brief stay at Six Mile Lake Provincial Park, where we visited Georgian Bay National Park on an unusually clear day, and took a 15-minute ride on a Daytripper ferry…

daytripper.jpg

to explore the network of trails on Beausoleil Island, guiding us to Honeymoon Bay,

30,000 islands

Fairy Lake,

Fairy Lake

and a keyhole to the many island cottages that dot Chimney Bay.

island cottage

The weather also cooperated during a recent visit to Discovery Harbour, once a British naval and military base in Penetanguishene commissioned to secure back door access to Upper Canada after the War of 1812.

nautical history.jpg

Of the two warships safeguarding the King’s Wharf at the time,

skiff and Tecumeth

the H.M.S Tecumseth has been replicated to stand guard once again,

skiff hull.jpg

Yet the schooner has been deemed unseaworthy by authorities, and is destined to be a floating exhibit, much like the original.

Tecumseth replica

Because the Rush-Bagot agreement between Britain and the United States restricted the number of active warships on the Great Lakes, the H.M.S. Tecomseth was decommissioned in 1817, and kept in a state of readiness until it eventually rotted and was reportedly scuttled in 1828.

However, its 1815 hull was raised from Penetanguishene Bay in 1953, and placed in a climate-controlled museum inaugurated in 2014.

1815 hull.jpg

As day turned to twilight, the clouds began to thicken,

tree silhouette.jpg

providing a curtain call that few campers had seen in weeks.

Sunset over Lake Mindemoya

Moving our location to Manitoulin Island did little to change a now-familiar weather pattern. We pondered whether sandbagging the Airstream might become necessary, but that thought slipped our minds soon after being preoccupied with scratching our mosquito bites.

Working around the rain was challenging. Under cloudy skies, we hiked the trail leading to Bridal Veil Falls’ 35-foot drop near the town of Kagawong.

Bridal Veil Falls.jpg

And despite the threat of rain, we continued on, climbing the cliffs of M’Chigeeng on the Cup and Saucer Trail,

The Cup and Saucer Trail.jpg

for splendid views of the North Channel.

Cliffside overlook.jpg

But our luck ran out as we drove to Ten Mile Point for a stormy lookout of Georgian Bay…

10 Mile Point

and found similar blustery conditions at Providence Bay, on the edge of Lake Huron,

Lake Huron surf

before returning to the sanctuary of our Airstream.

The following day, our four-hour travel time to Sault Ste. Marie was compromised by a tire mishap (see Blowout!). And then it rained…a lot!

By now, mosquito bashing had turned into a bloodsport. There were a few brief intermissions that allowed us to explore Sault Ste Marie’s famed boardwalk, which carried us past a whimsical sculpture in Roberta Bondar Park,

Three Bears

on our way along St. Mary’s River…

Soo Locks Boat Tours

to Sault Ste. Marie Canal–transitioning between Lake Huron…

Sault Ste. Marie Canal (2)

and Lake Superior…

Lake locks

before continuing across to Whitefish Island, where the convergence of Lake Huron and Lake Superior forms St. Mary’s rapids.

St. Mary's Rapids

And then a ride through downtown Queen St. produced a completely different climate,

Queen St.

where traces of snow formed around a movie set,

Christman in June

looking much like fire foam…

Fire foam (2)

to create a wintery look…

Fire Foam

for a Hallmark Christmas production adapted from Kevin Major’s The House of Wooden Santas.

Lamp pole and steeple

The weather always sets the tone for the trip. At the moment, rain amounts are up 30% over past years, and lake levels continue to rise above one meter.

This is a time for the birds…

bird on bird

the mosquitoes, and black flies.

And while there’s little we can do to control or avoid the weather, at least we are now prepared.

netting

Beasts of Botswana–Family Style

In the Animal Kingdom, animal magnetism has evolved over time–shifting between monogamy and polygamy, to cheating and outright promiscuity–something humans have been wrestling with since walking erect.

Every animal species is wired to adapt, survive, and pass along the blood line, no matter what, and the behavior dynamics are fascinating to observe.

For instance, the primary male lion roams with a harem of ladies in his pride, but will momentarily pledge himself to the lioness who bears his cubs.

nuzzling lions

However, a rival male to the pride will kill his predecessor’s offspring to force the pride’s females into ovulation.

2 female lions

Male and female Grevy’s zebras live apart until food and water are plentiful. Female Grevy’s zebras are polyandrous and will breed with many different males in succession.

Zebra family

Male Grevy’s zebras establish territories that lie along paths to water, often intercepting an ovulating female while passing through. And then it’s on to the next.

Zebras B&W

African wild dogs live as a monogamous breeding pair supported by a small pack.

2 dogs prowling (3)

The litter of pups is first cared for by the alpha female and guarded by the alpha male…

Nursing 3

who doles out hunting and caretaking responsibilities to subserviant wild dogs within the pack.

wild dog pups

A dominant impala ram will manage a harem of 10 ewes and their lambs, keeping them in line with his constant braying, biting and boasting. Young bucks continually challenge the ram in charge, insuring ewes will always deliver the strongest gene pool…

alpha male impala

thus providing a defense perimeter of plebes to discover danger from every direction.

herd of impalas

Baboons run in troops ruled by social dominance. When it comes to mating, any male of the troop will accept any female’s offer should she present her swollen rump to his face; however, the social rankings between males will often lead to aggressive fighting.

mother and child baboons

Females are the primary caretakers of the young, although males on occasion will babysit to win a female’s affection. 

baboon discipline (2)

Hippo bulls are polygamous by nature and insecure creatures by design. When the cows of the pod are fertile, the bull whips up a piss and dung cocktail that he atomizes with his propeller-like tail to capture their attention.

Great heron with catch and hippos

He will repeat this process until all the cows have been serviced. Should any of the offspring be male, the cow will protect it by hiding it near the fringe of the herd, lest it be killed by the bull.

hippo clash

Consequently, the bull fears his mature son will someday challenge him for control of the pod, and mate with his mother, creating a Freudian nightmare of hippo proportions.

grazing hippo

Rival bulls that follow a female tower of giraffes will often “neck” together (spar with their necks) for the attention of a fertile cow.

tall family

The victor will smell her urine to determine her readiness, and court her by resting his chin on her back.

sniffing urine

The females and their calves remain loyal to the tower, while the males move on, in search of long legs and firm hind quarters.

tower of giraffes1519442324641718967..jpg

Ostriches have seemingly taken their cue from the Mormons, where the dominant and polygamous cock will mate with many hens, while the hens remain monogamous.

Ostrich pair

The flock of hens have their own pecking order. As one female emerges as the dominant majority hen, she uses the minority females’ eggs to ring around her eggs as an extra layer of protection.

3 males_1 female

Dominant kudu rams will keep company with three to five kudu ewes within a herd of females and their calves.

2 kudus

Usually the ram comes a-knocking when it’s time to mate. Otherwise, the ram is a solitary creature that enjoys alone time.

kudu (2)

Male warthogs are not very selective. They will mate with any of their female counterparts wherever and whenever they may be found.

warthog in the grass

Maybe that’s why they are considered pigs.

Pumba

Several cow crocs may reside within the dominant bull croc’s territory, and each one is fair game for mating. The bull courts his cow in an elaborate and sensual dance that is certain to win her scales and tail.

big daddy croc_cu

It so happens that bull crocodiles are always ready! They keep their ever-erect penis tucked inside their body waiting for the right moment when both bodies are properly aligned under water.

croc at sundown

Dominant cape buffalo are distinguished by the thickness of their horns. They set the rules of their herd–

buffalo_cu

deciding whether to tolerate an overt act of copulation by a defiant subordinate bull, or keeping the cows in heat to himself by staving off all rival advances.

Cape buffalo herd

According to Kimberly Yavorski in “How do Elephants Mate?”:

“Elephants are social creatures and live in complex hierarchical communities. Each herd has one female that is the matriarch. She dictates where the herd goes and helps to teach the younger elephants proper behavior. Female elephants, or cows, live in multigenerational family groups with other females. Males stay with the family until they reach 12 to 15 years of age, when they leave the herd and live alone or join up with other bulls. Male and female elephants live separately with bulls only visiting when some of the females are in their mating season, known as estrus.”

elephant family walking by the river

“Elephants mature later than many other animals. Females reach sexual maturity at 10 to 12 years of age, males at around 25. A male doesn’t generally start breeding until age 30, when it has reached a sufficient weight and size to compete with other breeding males. At that point, it will start to seek out females in estrus.”

elephants' mudbath

“Bulls enter a state called musth once a year, and older bulls tend to stay in musth longer than younger bulls, up to six months. During this period, they have increased levels of testosterone. They secrete a fluid from their temporal gland between the eye and ear and will actively seek a mate. Dominant males, which are older, tend to come into musth when a large number of females are in estrus, and the males exhibit physical behaviors, such as flapping their ears and rubbing their head on trees and bushes to disperse the musth scent. They also have a particular rumble, a low frequency vocal call, used to attract females who are also ready to mate. Females sometimes respond with their own call, indicating interest. While a cow can mate with any male, those in musth may be more attractive to females in estrus.”

family of elephants drinking

“When a male approaches, a female in estrus may at first show wariness, but if she is interested, she will then leave the family group, walking with her head up and turned sideways to watch the male as he follows behind. The male may chase the female if she retreats and will chase off any other males. Elephants may stroke each other with their trunks before the male mounts the female from behind, standing almost vertically as they mate. Elephant sex lasts for up to two minutes and afterward, he will stay near the female and guard her from other males. Females may mate with more than one bull in each estrus cycle, which lasts up to 18 weeks. While elephants do not mate for life, a female may repeatedly choose to mate with the same bull, and bulls are sometimes seen being protective of females.”

mom and baby elephant

“At 22 months, elephants have the distinction of having the longest gestation period of all animals and give birth to live young. Pregnancy almost always results in a single birth; twins are rare. When it is time to give birth, female elephants move away from the herd and then return to introduce the new member, who is inspected by each other member of the family. At birth, babies weigh 90 to 120 kg (198 to 265 pounds) and are typically around 3 feet tall. Baby elephants tend to be hairy, with a long tail and a short trunk that grows as its diet changes. Offspring are weaned at two years, though some may continue to nurse up to age six and a half. Because of this long gestation and nursing period, estrus cycles are between four and six years apart. On average, a female elephant will give birth to seven offspring in her lifetime.”

2 month old elephant

 

 

 

No Shit!

There’s a wall of potty talk that circles the public restroom in the center of St. Augustine’s Old Town on St. George St. It follows a chronology of lavatory achievements through the ages as a testament to shitty innovations in evacuations.
So before you make a big stink and turn a blind eye to an issue this pressing, just cut the crap and log into a blog that offers a fulfilling means to an end:

3100-1200 BC

“This small chamber, located inside an ancient dwelling, had a drainage system that connected to other dwellings, and may have been an early toilet and sewage system.”

2600-1900 BC

“Cities of the Indus Valley Civilization had elaborate drainage and water supply systems, with flush toilets in almost every house.”

1370 BC

“This limestone toilet seat would have been placed over a compartment containing sand, which would be changed much like kitty litter today.”

2100 BC-1000AD

“Ancient Greeks used small rounded ceramic pieces called ‘pessoi’ instead of toilet paper. Other toilet paper precursors included ‘tersorium’ (a sponge fixed to a stick, Greco-Roman), ‘chuugi’ (25cm wooden sticks, 8th century Japan), and natural materials such as leaves, fur, and corncobs (used by many cultures throughout the world). China actually had toilet paper in the 2nd century BC!”

6th & 7th century BC-79 AD

“This toilet was found in a Pompeii brothel, and would have had a chamber pot beneath the seat.”

292 BC-700 AD

“This large public latrine with marble-topped toilets was used by the elite as a privilege of royalty and nobility.”

1596

“Sir John Harrington published a book describing the forerunner to the modern flush toilet and installed one for his godmother, Queen Elizabeth I, at Richmond Palace, which she refused to use because it made too much noise.”

16th century

“This ceramic Spanish chamber pot is one of the earliest documented chamber pots in North America. Its original flat rim is missing.”

Spanish Colonial Hygiene

1770-1830

“This British chamber pot, a ceramic called Sponged Pearlware, was used by St. Augustine colonists.”

British Colonial Hygiene

1895

“Archaeologists excavated this toilet from the moat that ran along the Cubo Line, a defensive earthwork that protected access to the city. Long used as a dump by St. Augustine residents, the city filled in the moat in 1900.”

mid 20th century

“Chamber pots persisted in the U.S. into the mid-20th century for use in toddler potty-training.”

Every drop counts

“St. Augustine colonists did not have pipes and indoor plumbing to bring water to their homes. They dug wells to access fresh water and carefully controlled its use. Today we take water for granted–but fresh water is in short supply. With climate changes and population increases, water consumption is critical.”

Society has made major advances in personal hygiene, to the extent that there are deco palaces devoted to pepsic discomfort…

radio city mensroom (3)
Radio City Music Hall men’s restroom, NYC

while also allowing for targeted political commentary.

potty mouth
William Duke and Brandon Griffin’s Photoshopped version of the men’s restroom at St Christopher’s Hostel, Paris. Photograph: Jacky Naegelen/Reuters

All’s well that ends well!

Eye Candy

I took a stroll
and spied a tool
that looked real cool–
where taffy pulled
around a spool.

I pulled a stool 
to watch this jewel.
And like a fool
who’s ridiculed,
my spittle drolled.

But there’s a rule
recalled from school:
That life is full
of soles with holes
whose souls are whole.

So ’round it folds
a to and fro,
the taffy flows
to fuel a flue
and form a glue.

 

 

The Angry Inch

On September 5, my grandnephew Ari unwittingly followed Abraham’s footsteps and entered into a covenant with God by sacrificing his foreskin to join the Tribe. He was only eight-days-old at the time, but had he been asked and able to answer, I’m certain he would have opted out.

Leah and I travelled to a Scarsdale, NY temple for the event, where we were greeted by Bubbe Debbie, Tante Ava, and most importantly, Ari, dicked out in Bubbe’s crocheted yarmulke creation. Presently locked in a blissful sleep, Ari had little clue of his near-future fate.

greeters

All guests were expected at 11:00 am sharp, but slow arrivals dictated a slower start, which was a good thing for Tante Marilyn–who like cock-work–arrived during the overture, and ran to the restroom with a change of clothes over her arm.  

“There’s no time for that,” I called out as she sprinted by.

“Nevermind,” she answered, and she was gone.

Inside the sanctuary, Ava stood steadfast as Ari’s chaperone, cradling him on a pillow that would hopefully cushion the inevitable blow.

Ava and Ari

Despite outsiders’ cries of trauma and mutilation, the notion of circumcision has stood the test of time for four thousand years, and the ceremony of brit milah, or bris marks the ritual of welcoming the newborn male into a society that connects all Jews through thousands of generations–from Abraham to the great-grandfather…

Great grandfather

to the grandfather…

Yohays

to the father…

David2

to the son.

Ari

Ari’s mohel (rhymes with recoil), who was hired for his steady hand (and because he only works for tips), stood resolute and cocksure before the congregation,

mohel blessing

as if to reassure Ari’s anxious Mommie,

fighting back tears

that he was more than a cut above the rest.

However, after the recitation of several requisite readings,

blessings.jpg

Blessed art Thou, O Lord our God, King of the universe, who hast sanctified us with Thy command­ments, and hast given us the command con­cerning circumcision.

and blessings,

reciting the prayer

Blessed art Thou, O Lord our God, King of the universe, who hast sanctified us with Thy commandments, and hast commanded us to make our sons enter the covenant of Abraham our father.

I concluded the mohel was a touch long-winded, although I never considered asking him to cut it short. 

Finally, it was showtime. The sandek–in this case, Zayde Craig,

preparation (2)

the maternal grandfather–was called upon to hold Ari’s legs, while the mohel got a grip of Ari’s equipment.

before (2)
edited to conceal

Once the clamp was affixed and the ceremonial anesthetic (Manischewitz wine) was orally introduced,

clamp1

a flick of the wrist…

clamp

left little doubt… 

after (2)
edited to conceal

that Ari was in good hands. The mohel was a consummate professional who handled himself in the long run without getting the sack.

Afterwards, the parents exhaled, although mouth-to-mouth was necessary.

Yohay kiss

In fact, grandparents, and especially Ari felt the whole affair was sensational–even though he was all petered out and it was clear that he wasn’t all there.

Schein kiss (2)

 

When It Rains, It Pours

Leah and I were about to step out to take care of an outdoor errand, when a graying sky turned into a routine Florida downpour, putting a damper on our schedule until the storm abated. We were watching the rain from my office window, just as the city sanitation truck arrived, chugging towards our cul de sac for the weekly trash pickup. But this time around, something went terribly wrong.

The driver of the truck entered the cul de sac by driving down the center of the road instead of staying right and following the full curve of the road. Perhaps, the driver thought the truck’s turning radius could negotiate a tight 180° turn out of our dead end from his middle-of-the-road position without jumping the opposite curb…but he was wrong. The vehicle rolled over the curb–its right wheel catching a water supply cover that split under the weight of the cab–which crushed the water valve and sheared the 3-inch supply line underneath.

Suddenly, we were looking at an impropmtu geiser eruption in our front yard, rising 60 feet or more.

gusher1.jpg

It was enough for me to grab my camera and photograph the ensuing drama, as if I was part of a crime scene investigation.

police arrival

The police were called–filing a report and issuing a summons to the driver–but stuck around for a while to gawk at the local man-made attraction.

Thirty minutes passed before a Water Department maintenance crew eventually arrived on the scene to figure out their next step.

service truck and geiser

With water being such a precious commodity (see Well Done!), Leah and I wondered how much had been wasted.

“They better not be charging us for that,” she asserted.

“How could they,” I reassured, “It’s not like it was our mistake.”

First order of business…

checking the break

…inspect the damage…

water pressure

…then locate the water shut-off…

turning off the water

…and stop the flow…

water recovery.jpg

to enable repairs.

geiser containment

digging out

tools of the trade

pumping water

excavating the pipe head

After an hour of tinkering, the damaged fitting was finally replaced…

cracked pipe

…with something shiny and new.

new cap installed

I asked the crew chief how much water he thought had been lost.

crew chief

“Y’know, I have to fill out an EPA report that accounts for missing water,” he explained, “So, if I was to go with a 1000 GPM flow-rate over 45 minutes, I’d be looking at approximately 45000 gallons (or 170,000 liters) lost.”

According to city water rates, that’s equivalent to a $500 water bill, making this accident one very expensive car wash.

 

 

 

Becoming My Parents

Hiking along New Jersey State and County Park trails the day after Thanksgiving made a lot of sense to Leah, who orchestrated our first return to New Jersey since moving to St. Augustine five months ago. She promised a whirlwind week and a-half of personal appointments and commitments packed with a variety of doctors, friends and family members, all laced with an emphasis on over-eating.

And so, during the course of our visit, as advertised, our food-centric itinerary always included a meal punctuated by scintillating table conversation on family history and folklore–touching on recipes, obituaries, and kin outcasts, with politics and religion occasionally creeping into the dialogue.

But mostly, everybody seemed to be preoccupied with their health. And God help the person who would innocently ask, “So, how are you feeling?” Because this question would open the floodgates for respondents to freely reassign their HIPAA proxy on the spot so they could casually discuss their current condition down to the last agonizing ache and pain, notwithstanding the severity surrounding their prognosis and course(s) of treatments, always followed by a couple of random doctor-horror stories.

It seemed like everyone had a health-related story to tell–whether it was about themselves or someone they knew–not unlike my parents and their friends, who would gather at holiday occasions to compare notes about their medication intake. It was uncanny that the of crux of nearly all of our relationships was now firmly rooted in our faded glory and eventual demise.

Any outsider, after eavesdropping on any of our sessions of non-stop kvetching might be surprised to learn that we are still breathing and have more than one day to live.

And so, it was predictably refreshing to carve out some time to clear our ears of prescription patter, and find an activity that combined friendship and calorie burning. Of course, our opportunity to hike was completely weather-dependent, considering the prior Nor’easter and the Arctic chill that had settled on the Atlantic states.

Like many Northern transplants to Florida, Leah and I had become preoccupied with weather-watching, so we might bask in the warm glow of knowing that we had finally escaped the unfriendly winters by relocating to St. Augustine. But now that we were back in Jersey, it was time to face the hard cold facts of winter; Ramapo Valley Reservation (NYNJTC_RamapoValleyCountyReservationMap-2017) was 18°F at the Reservation trailhead, and expecting to peak at 23°F by the afternoon.

MacMillan Reservoir was partially frozen and dreary…

lake (2)

with the exception of distant water reflections.

frozen reflection

Trails were camouflaged… 

blue trail (2)

by crispy fallen leaves–densely packed and slippery–despite the assortment of Skittles-colored trail blazes nailed to forest saplings.

cut logs

Brooks were running fast and high…

brook flow1 (3)

making each water-crossing challenging and hazardous.

We continued our four-hour excursion with the winds picking up across Campgaw Mountain.

panorama looking east

And it became clear to me that marching through the New Jersey woodlands was not the best birthday present I could have given myself. The cold had already taken its toll on Arlene’s arthritic fingers. Leah, who had recently succumbed to lower back pain and acute Achilles tendonitis was now complaining about her knees.

My knees were also aching from sliding down one too many slippery slopes. Even Doug, the youngest of all of us by at least eleven years had to admit that his right knee was locking up occasionally. The ladies cut their hike short, taking a quick detour to the parking lot, but Doug and I wore our intrepid hats. We continued to the feature waterfall along the Brookside Trail with few delays or complaints…

waterfall

giving us bragging rights to a 7.5 mile accomplishment,

frosty rocks

and leaving me more than ready for my true birthday present to myself: a one-hour Swedish massage at a local day spa, if only to rub my aches and pains away for another day.

 

 

 

 

Trump’s Folly

Photo credit: (Carlos Barria/Reuters)
A political song parody…
It’s a catchy tune, so why not sing along!
(Intro)
Critics are falling on my head,

From too much rain to bother honoring the dead.
I don’t give a shit.
Those…NATO allies that I dread–

keep me bawlin’…

So I just did me some talking to my sons.
And I said, “I didn’t like the way Dems got things done–
Winning at the polls.
Those…losses are falling on my head,

they keep fallin’…”

But there’s one thing…I know.
The Blues they sent to beat me
Just defeat me.

It won’t be long,
Subpoenas now step up to greet me.

(interlude)

Democrats keep falling on my head.
But that doesn’t mean the House will soon be turning Red.
Winning’s not for me,
‘Cause, I’m never gonna stop the wave with complaining.
I’ll cop a plea.
It terrifies me.

(interlude)

It won’t be long ’till prison opens up to greet me.

Bad vibes keep falling on my head.
But that’s just karma coming ‘round on me, I dread…
Mueller’s got the key.
‘Cause, I’m never gonna stop the probe by complaining.
I’ll drop a tweet,

’cause I’m President Cheat!

Thanks to Original Songwriters: Burt Bacharach / Hal David

Old Bagelsides

While enjoying my morning breakfast, and catching up on some classic poetry, I decided on a mash-up, which seemed entirely appropriate at the moment.

Inspired by Oliver Wendell Holmes’ Old Ironsides*

So, eat my toasted bagel now!
Soon may I reach thru wrap.
‘Cause many a tooth awaits to chew
this morsel from the sack;
Inside, I whiffed the buttered carbs
And yearned the content’s nut;–
But the paper bag in my eager hand
Revealed a tear somewhat!

My meal, once hot from oven’s heat,
Which baked the risen dough,
Where yeast was bubbling through the mix,
And grains were ground. Ergo,
Constant kneading the rubb’ry mass
And proof the crusted skin,
The bagels of the batch shall rise–
The essence of a win!

Oh, woeful that my ragged bag
erodes against my touch;
Construction dooms my marv’lous meal,
And so, becomes my crutch;
Drops through the rip, my toasted roll
Damn every filthy crime!
And gift it to the trove of germs—
The goodness and the grime.

*

 

Stats!

It’s official! After creating 201 posts over the past 18 months, my blog has reached a new level of readership that defies credulity.

Two days ago, I posted Chapter 8 of “Uncertainty”, a somber reflection of survival based on a true story during the Holocaust (which I encourage everyone to read from the prologue going forward). I was feeling rather secure about the characters, the writing technique, and the progression of the story that I’ve been serializing for the past month, and looking forward to plotting out the balance of Part One.

However, today I checked the current status to see how well (or not) the post has been received, and to my dismay, I’ve discovered that the views for Uncertainty: Chapter Eight have been less than flattering.

In fact, the post was credited with -2,147,483,648 views to date…maybe an all-time record for poorest performance ever for a new post by anyone affiliated with WordPress!

stat screenshot (2)

For a moment, I didn’t know what to think. And then a flood of emotions took over. I began to doubt whether the writing I was producing had offended or alienated readers to the point where 2,147,483,648 readers were letting me know that they had “unseen” my post!

While I will admit that my 201 musings to date are not intended for everyone (and most likely an acquired taste at best), I was not prepared to accept that almost half the literate world wished to “unview” my blog.

Here are the facts. According to Stastista (a statistics portal combining statistics and studies from more than 22,500 sources), in a world of approximately 7.6 billion people, about 26% of our global population is below 15 years of age.

Screenshot (25)That’s equivalent to 5.624 billion people worldwide over 15 years-old, and our new baseline for purposes of this investigation.

Coupled with UNESCO’s declaration of global literacy rate of 86%–which amounts to 4.837 billion adults (aged 15 years and older) who are validated as being able to read and write–

Screenshot (22)

…I have reconciled that I’ve lost any chance of attracting 44.4% of the literate world to my website.

Of course, I’m completely dependent upon WordPress for the accuracy of their calculus. But if their numbers are on target, then I must consider the other 55.6% of literate adults on this planet and appeal to their inherent curiosity, so that one day they might consider the possibility of visiting my blog and checking out the archives or what’s new.

In the meantime, I will continue to write for my audience of one, or two, or however many others (1980 followers and counting) who support me, and not focus on the negative 2,147,483,648 who don’t know what they’re missing…until they come around.

To my loyal readers, stay tuned for Uncertainty: Chapter Nine.

Tourist Attractions

When showing family the sights of St. Augustine the first time around,

there are so many tried and true options that abound.

Naturally, driving onto Vilano Beach becomes the main outdoor attraction,

where short legs wade long lengths across silky, sandy satisfaction.

wading out

The Alligator Farm is another familiar and likely choice,

where eager grandchildren are apt to rejoice…

Alligator lagoon.jpg

at a place where rescued reptiles and denizens…

Maximo (2).jpg

Galapagos tortoise1.jpg

albino alligator.jpg

savor a seasonal delicacy,

so good!

yum!.jpg

and feathered friends…

heron

are likely to take up full-time residency.

pretty bird

stork

The Castillo de San Marcos gunnery platoon…

soldier and kids.jpg

castillo model

provides a cannon blast from the past very close to high noon.

cannon blast

And Anastasia Beach State Park’s estuarine channel

egret on the shore1.jpg

offers a vigorous workout with a kayak paddle.

Carrie, Devin, Dan and bird

The Aikens, Grammy, and Kayak

Or how ’bout a free ferry crossing Matanzas Bay…

ferry crossing.jpg

to inspect Fort Matanzas,

inside out

and its cannon array.

Fort Matanzas gun station.jpg

Then again, not withstanding the two-hour drive to Kennedy Space Center,

Kennedy wall.jpg

there’s a universe of exhibits to explore,

a walk on the moon

ISS.jpg

and The World’s Largest Space Shop to enter.

spaceman and kids

But when summer’s heat and humidity just…won’t…allow…another…step,

and when it’s subsequently rainy–as most afternoons are likely to get–

the chosen activity must absolutely meet

the standards of two curious kids, and satisfy their sweet teeth.

hairnet family

Happily, such a happening exists for the young and the grown,

and can be found at the artisan chocolatier, Whetstone.

Whetstone greeting.jpg

The tour informs you of its elaborate process and technique…

chocolate process

But realistically, we came for the chocolate samples we could eat.

Yet unlike the follies of Lucy and Ethel…

our guide served five tastings,

and each one was special.

 

For seven days our family wandered throughout St. Augustine town,

with plenty leftover to experience for the next time around.

A Touch of Blue

After dry camping (no utilities or hook-ups) for three days at Mathews Arm campground inside Shenandoah National Park,

Hawksbill summit

the threat of rain, the need for groceries, and the desire to charge our tablets and phones drove us off the mountaintops to Luray, the valley town nearest the Thornton Gap park entrance, and renowned for its fancy formations. But having previously explored so many other holes in the ground over the past year, including Luray Cavern at an earlier time, the lure of Luray—after shopping at Walmart—now lay in the living shrine to The Dukes of Hazzard, as memorialized by Cooter’s on US-211 West.

Steer 01

Cooter's ext.jpg

For those unfamiliar, The Dukes of Hazard was a TV show from the early 80’s…

D of H cast pic

that followed a rash of 1960’s programming that satirized rural Southern living, and fish-out-of-water sensibilities beginning with the Andy Griffith ShowThe Beverly Hillbillies, Petticoat Junction, Green Acres, and Andy Griffth spin-off, Gomer Pyle USMC.

The Dukes of Hazard series popularized chase scenes with a Dodge Charger named General Lee that could catch air and outrun every Cherry Top….

Cooter's

and daisy dukes (short shorts worn by Daisy Duke).

Daisy Dukes (2)

With equal parts giftshop…

Confederate gifts

museum…

picture shrine

Cooter's Cruiser

fire truck

Boss Hogg Cadillac

fast-food fare, and live music venue…

Jamboree

Cooter’s has become the perfect one-stop Good Ol’ Boy stop-over. As Cooter is so fond of saying, “With free parking, free museum admission, and free music, if you’re not completely satisfied, we’ll give you your money back!”

Immediately, upon entering, I felt out of place—like I was intruding—even though I’m a big fan of Lynyrd Skynyrd and The Allman Brothers Band. Perhaps a combination of morbid obesity, and full-color body tattoos may have automatically disqualified me from fitting in. But like a train wreck that’s almost impossible to ignore, I could not be dissuaded from gawking at the regulars,

staff

who come to Cooter’s to: consume heart attack chili, “so good it’ll kill ya!”; show the young’uns all the neat merchandise that Pops grew up with;

D of H merch

take foolish pictures with cut-out faces of the Hazzard cast;

Leah as Daisy Dukes

or take a $10 ride…

Munzter High.jpg

on a monster truck;

climb aboard

 

and enjoy country music with a decided “red (political) and white (racial)” edge.

Cooter's Garage Band

Richie, the bassist got the party started with some tunes by Merle Haggard and Buck Owens, but the mood got serious with a rendition of Lee Greenwood’s God Bless the U.S.A. One-by-one, the crowd stood in obeisance as they sang from hearts solemnly covered by hands. Some of the crowd actually got weepy.

Richie acknowledged their emotional valor with some patriotic pearls, “We sure do love this country—finest country on Earth. But I don’t need to remind y’all ‘bout that, ‘cause this ain’t rocket surgery.”

Richie segued, “Now this here’s the part of the show where I like to ask our visitors where they’re travellin’ from. How many of you folks are from out of town?”

Scanning the room for volunteers brought a few announcements, “Pennsylvania…Maryland…North Carolina…” all met with applause.

Leah whispered, “Are we from New Jersey or Florida?”

“Well, besides the Airstream, there’s only one state I know where we own property,” I advised.

“We’re from Florida!” Leah called out. More applause.

Richie declared, “Then I declare, without even botherin’ to load all that data into GPS, that you people from Florida are the farthest guests from here today, and that makes you the winner!”

As if on auto-pilot from the other side of the stage, George on guitar intones, “Tell her what she’s won, Richie.”

“You bet, George,” affirms Richie. “She gets to pick our next song.”

[To Leah] “Any song, sweetheart!”

Leah panicked, “Quick, Neal. Give me a song!”

I felt like I needed to stand up for the Blue Team. “How ‘bout Blue Velvet,” I offered.

Richie, incredulously, “You mean that number by Bobby Vinton?” [singing] “She wore Blue Velvet, dah da dah, da dah.”

I felt like a contestant on Stump the Band.

Richie confessing, “I think that’s all we got for that one. Why don’t-cha pick somethin’ else?”

Pausing a moment, I suggested Blue Suede Shoes.

“Now, that song’s gonna be a part of our second set,” Richie previewed, “so gimme your favorite country group instead, and we’ll play a song from their songbook.”

“That’s easy. Play something from the Dixie Chicks,” I requested.

Richie didn’t expect the ambush.

Unfortunately for the Texas-bred Dixie Chicks, they were vilified by their fanbase when they spoke out against the Bush/Cheney Iraqi invasion, with some goons going so far as dispatching hate mail and death threats.

The still unforgiving crowd at Cooter’s became uncomfortably silent. People turned in their seats to stare, wondering, “Who is this interloper who dares to break the 11th Commandment at Cooter’s? Thou shalt banish the Dixie Chicks from all of country music’s memory.

Rita, the vocalist fronting the Cooter Garage Band put things in perspective. “It’s been ‘bout ten years since we did this, and I never thought we’d be performing it again, but we’re gonna play it for Florida, so please don’t hold it against us.”

The band launched into a stirring rendition of Some Days You Gotta Dance that even had the most ardent cynics tapping their toes and bobbing their torsos.

Not one to overstay our welcome, we left shortly afterwards in search of BBQ.

BBQ.jpg

Score one for the Blue Team.

Anatomy of an Email

I’ve been getting lots of political email lately. In large part, it’s been requests for donations coming from Trump’s 2020 Campaign for President, with rally words added to hype an emotional response, and misinformation intended to misguide the nation. It amuses me and terrorizes me at the same time.

It all started when my curiosity compelled me to participate in a Republican National Committee (RNC) survey at Donald Trump’s email behest:

https://action.donaldjtrump.com/listening-to-america/?utm_medium=email&utm_source=ET_16&utm_campaign=20180417_2585_listen-survey-welseries-2_donaldjtrump_jfc&utm_content=gop_surveys_button_take_bottom_other_all

I was game. I swallowed the bait and jumped down the RNC rabbit hole for a deeper look at the Mad Hatter’s tactics. Confronted by leading questions, I answered in a way that left no doubt about my disapproval of Trump’s policies, his absence of ethics, and his lack of leadership.
For instance, when asked at the end of the survey, “What else do you think the President needs to know about the real America? We’re listening.” I responded in chapter and verse about his controversial WALL:
Humpty Trumpty

Humpty Trumpty wanted a wall
And Mexican pesos to pay for it all
But all the Trump bankers
And all the deplorables
Couldn’t find ways to make it affordable.


I presumed that my straightforward responses would immediately disqualify me from any future Trumpian communication, but I was wrong. I received an immediate response:
Wow! I couldn’t believe I had just earned the right to take $6 off the purchase price of a MAGA cap as a reward for my participation and apparent support! Is this a great country, or what?
However, controversy continues to surround the manufacturer’s claim that the president’s swag is 100% proudly made in America. According to factory employees (who stitch the hat in Los Angeles) and an independent laboratory conducting microscopic fabric analysis, the hat components have been sourced and imported from overseas.
I decided to pass on the hat for two reasons: First of all, I disapprove of the messaging, feeling that America, despite its flaws, has always been great, and doesn’t need to be reinvented by a game show host who panders to white supremacists; and secondly, the hat doesn’t come in blue–only hot pink, yellow, camouflage, and red.
Again, I thought this was the end of things, until I received another blast from Donald J. Trump, forewarning me about my negligent membership status:

membership renewal

Imagine! The President of the United States, a self-professed billionaire–whose estimated wealth is dubious because of withheld tax returns–now counting on me…for a single dollar contribution to his campaign, and pressing me with a renewal deadline!

What a dilemma! Of course, I still wanted to track the Trump Big Top. But what if I didn’t come up with the money in time? Would I no longer be welcome inside the circus tent? I decided to wait.

The next day Eric came calling under the guise of FAKE NEWS:

Eric's email

Eric makes quite an argument for my dollar–defending Daddy from a CRUSH of criticism, and a chance to be on the right side of America. This was good stuff.

And then this arrived the day before the FEC deadline:

Are you still with me

…with another declaration of war against the media.

No doubt, being President of the United States is a demanding job that requires intense concentration and extensive hours studying the problems of the country and the world, followed by intense debate and policy development to secure America’s safety and enable continuing prosperity.

Yet, as of April 28, Trump has managed to spend 111 days of his presidency (or 22% of his time in office) at one of his organization’s golf resorts swinging a club, and costing taxpayers tens of millions of dollars in the process. In fact, there’s a Facebook page (https://www.facebook.com/trumpgolfcount) that’s devoted to Trump’s rising count. And this coming from a man who chided Obama, who spent a “tiny, tiny little fraction” of his time on the links compared to Trump.

We’ve also learned–from Trump’s own admission–that Trump’s day officially begins at 11am, after Executive Time, which essentially translates to TV and Twitter time.

So given Trump’s extreme schedule, I couldn’t help but wonder, “How on earth did Trump have the time to notice that “[my] name is no longer on [his] list of official Sustaining members?”

I passed on paying the dollar, rationalizing that there was no reason to contribute to Donald’s green fees.

March passed into April, and with a new month, it was time again to feed the political war chest, this time in the interest of national security–by parlaying an immigration crisis into a $25B resolution: building THE WALL.

Build the Wall

Considering I had raised my objection to building THE WALL the month before, receiving my financial support was unlikely. In fact, I returned the survey with a comment, petitioning the president to consider an idea more fiscally responsible and in keeping with his laissez-faire principles: privatization. I proposed that he reach out to the Walton family, a fine upstanding bastion of Republican sensibility, and convince them to build THE WAL-MART, a very long and skinny store along our southern border. By day, the Mexicans could buy American, and by night our border would be protected by Wal-Mart security teams. Imagine the savings!

Trump never responded to my idea. Instead I got this:

Real News Now

…an appeal to subscribe to Real News Updates, a weekly webcast hosted by Donald’s daughter-in-law, Lara Trump, wife of Eric Trump. Interestingly, no one was asking for money, just a commitment of my time to shower me with the real truth on Trump TV. However, after watching ten minutes of noise disguised as news, I found I didn’t have a nose for nonsense, as it reeked of propaganda.

Shortly after, I received another exchange from Donald recruiting me for another purpose: defeating LIBERAL OBSTRUCTION…

liberal-obstruction.jpg

Here was Trump blaming the Democrats for his inability to get America’s work done. By the numbers, there are 1,212 presidential appointments requiring U.S. Senate confirmation, and 353 presidential appointments which do not require confirmation. As of April 27, 2018, 315 of Trump’s nominees have been confirmed for 640 key positions, and 129 are awaiting confirmation.

On what he called Trump’s “glacial pace in selecting nominees,” Senate Minority Leader Chuck Schumer posited, “If the President is looking for someone to blame on the slow pace of confirmations, he needs only to look in the mirror,” and suggests that the President should “roll up his sleeves and get to work rather than pointing false fingers of blame.”

Equally as astounding, was Trump’s White House personnel turmoil as diagrammed by The New York Times:

Trump tumult (2)

Even today, in the wake of Trump’s impending historic summit with North Korea’s Kim Jong Un, there is no nominee in place to head the South Korean embassy, and that’s on Trump.

After a week’s time, I received multiple invitations to renew my 2018 Sustaining Membership and I ignored them all, but then an email arrived from Mike Pence that was impossible to overlook. He was offering me a chance to win dinner and a picture with him in North Carolina.

dinner-with-pence-e1525464357395.jpg

I checked my calendar to make sure I was available. I dreamed of the possibility of gnawing on BBQ ribs with Mike while listening to his sanctimonious defense of zygote life, his hypocritical defense of Trump as an adulterer, and his evangelical discourse of hysterical homophobia, as if he had been touched by St. Paul. I entered the contest…without a contribution…by discovering extremely fine print on the submission page that hyperlinked me to a free entry form, thereby sidestepping the requisite donation.

While I applauded my cleverness, no one called to tell me I’d won. I think I had Chinese take-out that Friday evening, and watched Real Time with Bill Maher instead.

A couple of days later, Donald reminded me that Melania’s birthday was approaching:

Melania

I have to admit, I was taken by surprise that Donald would turn up the spotlight on Melania when the world was wondering out loud about his sordid affairs with porn star Stephanie Clifford (aka Stormy Daniels), and Karen McDougal, Playboy’s 1998 Playmate of the Year, only months after the birth of Melania’s son Barron.

It’s now undeniable that Michael Cohen, Trump’s consigliere paid $130,000 in hush money to Stormy Daniels twelve days before the presidential election. Campaign election law violation? We’ll see.

I was happy to sign Melania’s card, hoping that it might represent even the smallest distraction from her otherwise burdensome existence, and perhaps put a smile on her forlorn-locked face.

Oh, how she shrinks from Donald’s touch as he ceremoniously attempts to lock hands during so many pomp and circumstance moments when cameras are rolling, and oh, how she spurns his pussy-grabbing fingers, sending a silent #MeToo message to her coterie:

 

And then instantly, the news cycle abruptly turned to former FBI giraffe, James Comey’s imminent release of A Higher Loyalty: Truth, Lies, and Leadership. Naturally, Trump launched a preemptive strike that landed in my inbox :

Comey's book

…even going so far as to transmit a less than scientific survey to his ardent supporters one day later:

James Comey poll

Comey made the rounds of many a talk show, eager to tell his story, clear his name, restore honor to his bleeding Bureau, and peddle some books. But unlike Trump’s failed attempt to blunt free speech by trying to prevent publication of Michael Wolff’s Fire and Fury, all he could muster this time around was a weak attempt to disparage, discredit and dismiss Comey as a liar and a leak.

Yet, for Trump to accuse James Comey as lying is no different from a cesspool telling a septic tank that it’s full of shit!

With Trump’s ascension to the White House,

Home of the Whopper

perhaps, the President’s residence should temporarily be renamed, Home of the Whopper.

Jimmy Kimmel put it best in his classic “mockumentary”, Trump’s 2,000 Lies:

 

Finally, Devin Nunes, chairman of the House Intelligence Committee and TrumPuppet released a final partisan report that the President had been expecting, and considered long overdue:

House Intelligence

Of course, Donald had a shiny new object to distract his core, but the real crime was the damage done to a one-time prestigious watchdog panel once charged with rooting out intel abuses, but now acting as the President’s personal pit bull. By shutting down the investigation and claiming no evidence of collusion by refusing to interview anybody who might have had evidence of collusion was like pulling the ripcord while still inside the plane.

Over the past two months, I’ve received dozens of email communications from Trump and team–all designed to collect a dollar and a steal a soul–while observing a Republican Congress willing to embrace Trump at any cost. And although I was never interested in contributing a dollar, I was more than willing to offer my two cents.

That’s when I received this email:

0 = 0

I clicked on CONTRIBUTE OTHER AMOUNT, and was whisked to the secure Authorized Website of Trump Headquarters:

triple matched

By selecting Other, my blinking cursor filled the empty box in anticipation of a big round number. I entered $0.02 and pressed CONTINUE.

enter an amount (2)

Rejected! The campaign wouldn’t accept anything less than two bits. So here it is, Mr. President…two bits of advice: Stop lying to the American people, and resign before the real truth comes out!

Front End Smiles

The automotive industry has a lot to grin about, and they put it on display for all to see at the 118th edition of the New York International Auto Show, showcasing over 1000 cars and trucks from around the world at the Jacob Javits Convention Center in New York City.

Javits Center

Conventional wisdom affirms that mid-week crowds are typically thinner than weekend crowds, but judging from the sea of people milling through manufacturers’ exhibits, the blustery New York weather seems to have driven most tourists indoors to gawk at gleaming metal and polished plastic.

Online ticketing expedited entry access, however, there was a brief hold-up at our security clearance gate when a customer refused to surrender his pen knife to a yellow-shirted official.

“But it’s just a penknife,” he asserted. “Do you really think I’m a mass murderer carrying a blade that’s smaller than your pinkie?”

Like his knife, he had a point! But the security supervisor poured acid rain on his parade and confiscated it anyway, overruling his protests.

Eventually, we safely entered the cavernous space…

welcome

only to overdose on a melange of oversized banners and advertorials covering all makes and models, with curtains of graphics and gargantuan walls of hypnotic lights coalescing into dizzying displays of one-upmanship.

Once we got our bearings, we targeted the pedestrian brands, for as much as this was an opportunity to regale in the glory of all the shapely models present (as well as the cars they were pitching), Leah and I were on the hunt for a new car. It was time to say goodbye to our Honda Civic Hybrid–who was showing her ten-year tenure after 130,000 miles–and “kick the tires” at a one-stop shopping venue like the car show with the notion that we might meet her worthy successor.

While navigating through the different brands, it became very clear that the array of chiseled lines and sculpted edges of each steel-coated body acts as a magnetic lure to onlookers, in the hopes that physical attraction follows the initial subliminal or emotional response.

Hence, each brand had its own legion of followers. Many were merely window-shopping. However, there were hundreds with more serious inclinations, who were infected with a seat-adjusting, knob-twisting, radio-tuning, steering wheel-gripping, and backseat legroom-testing fever that left long queues by the sides of the cars and trucks, as make-believe owners feature-fucked their way through the vehicle.

Of course, there was also a corps of car counselors available to cover all questions asked of them: “What’s the fuel economy? What’s the warranty? What’s the availability? What’s the cost? What’s the show discount?”

Virtual and augmented reality’s fingerprint was all over the show. Ford offered high-tech headgear tethered to microprocessing for a flight over an imaginary landscape of tomorrow’s transportation network. Dodge staged a roadster drag race challenge through a simulation windshield, complete with whiplash acceleration vibes synchronized and transmitted through the seat and steering wheel. Chevrolet incorporated dynamic movement and 360° engagement by throwing VR drivers up and down and around a test track with the wind in their faces. And Nissan employed a smartphone app and cardboard origami to build a viewer that thrusts the user through the internal combustion of their VC-turbo engine.

glasses.jpg

In keeping with the technology theme, auto companies were eager to email brochures, but almost always had oodles of glossy brochures for the taking, which made sponsor-driven shopping bags a hot commodity. Hyundai and Toyota were the giveaway gurus, providing popular blue and red totes for the asking…until there were none.

Such was our luck after accruing an armful of stuff that could no longer fit our coat pockets. After visiting a number of surrounding company information counters, Toyota reassured us of a mid-afternoon delivery. Fortunately, our good timing was rewarded with a couple of red handbags before they quickly disappeared. Yet we couldn’t help but covet State Farm’s flattering, complementary shoulder bags worn by many hands-free car insurance enthusiasts.

As we moved through two levels of automotive mania, and contemplated the contours of carchitecture, it was reassuring to watch the happiness on people’s faces–their smile an irrational testament to the prospect of owning a new dream car–as they engage the navigation software to plot a course to the poorhouse.

Likewise, it seemed that the cars were grinning, laughing, howling and roaring back at them too. Gotcha!…

…with miles and miles of beguiling smiles!

April Fools PSA

While culling through the many comments attributed to my Epilogue post–recently featured on the WordPress Discover site–I came across one comment in particular that so startled me, I had to read it twice:

Screenshot (9)

I couldn’t believe my good fortune! Somebody felt so strongly about my post that they were willing to make me rich!

Yet on the surface, it all sounded too good to be true. I had to find out more information about this amazing opportunity before it slipped away. But how?

I thought about calling him, but not wanting to embarrass myself by appearing too anxious and maybe saying the wrong thing, I decided it was safer to dash off the following email to Harrison Wells instead:

Hi,

I got a communication from Harold Wood, who told me a story about a blank ATM card that could withdraw huge sums of money. Is this for real? Cause if so, it certainly sounds interesting.
What more can you tell me about it?
I have a bunch of questions, so the sooner you can get me answers, the sooner I can get my hands on this card!
1) First of all, it sounds a bit fishy, so is it legal?
2) Do I have to worry about where I use the card?
3) Do I have to worry about how often I use the card?
4) How much money can this card generate?
5) How long is this card good for?
6} How much is this card gonna cost me?
7) I got bills to pay, so how long will it take to get me a card?
8} What do you need from me to get started?
Thanks for all your help!
Regards,
Neal D
While, I waited patiently for a response from Harrison, I thought aloud, “How cool is it that he should have the same name as the founder of S.T.A.R. Labs from The Flash TV series.” I hoped he was as fast as The Flash when it came to writing me back.

Fortunately, Harrison didn’t leave me waiting very long, but his response was disappointing:

Date: 3/30/18 5:29 AM (GMT-05:00)
To: Neal <Neal_D@msn.com>
Subject: RE: ATM Card
Just got your mail I have answers to all your questions lets get started
Name
Location
Date of birth
Cell phone numberSent from my Windows Phone

It seemed Harrison was intentionally ignoring the answers to all my questions. He had eliminated the foreplay (the best part), and was going straight for my wallet. I felt let down–even betrayed. What kind of con was this anyway?

It was time to take greater control of the narrative…
Hi Harrison,
What’s up?
Before we get too personal, I think you forgot about that part in your previous email where you answer my questions first.
I am looking forward to your responses so we can get this party started.
Thanks for writing back.
Neal
Immediately after I dispatched the email, I began having second thoughts about my tactics:
Was I coming on too strong? Would Harrison continue to see me as an April Fool and valued patsy, or would he simply ignore me and concentrate on another dance partner who was less difficult and more willing to be be led?
Thankfully, he ramped up his customer service skills, and gave me short-hand answers to all my questions…
From: Harrison Williams <harrisonwells989@outlook.com>
Date: 3/31/18 3:17 AM (GMT-05:00)
To: Neal <ndl7@msn.com>
Subject: RE: ATM Card
Ok first thing its illegal
You don’t need to worry about where to use it
Yes you can only withdraw twice a week
It depends on the card you want
The card is durable for some months
$400usd
It depends on the encrypting of the card
Your information
Does are the answers to your question
Sent from my Windows Phone
Wow! Going down the list, I matched up the answers to my questions, and had a much better picture of the cost of committing a crime. For $400, I could risk it all and finance my next trip to Sing Sing, Leavenworth or San Quentin.
I immediately sent a public service announcement to my future self to serve as a reminder to ignore all blank ATM card invitations in the near future:
Dear Neal,
Let this email serve as fair warning… Any urge to get rich quick should be quickly dismissed and filed under scam spam.
Thanks for the heads-up, Harrison!

Parody Paradigm

Dear Weird Al,

Last night, I took Leah to see your show at the Apollo Theater for her birthday, and she loved all of it.*

Leah at the Apollo

We highly approved of Emo Phillips as your opening act, and appreciated him opening up to us about his personal life. I never knew he was married and divorced. He mentioned that her name will forever remain nameless, but only if he can manage to be unseen at her gravestone with a sandblaster. Also, I didn’t know of his interest in playing chess with old men in the park, and how difficult it is finding 32 of them at once.

And then you took Apollo’s iconic stage…

Apollo Theater

with your long-time back-up band, and you guys were as tight as a vise grip. Whether it was your impressions of Bob Dylan in Bob, James Taylor in Even Worse, the Police in Velvet Elvis, or Gordon Lightfoot in The Biggest Ball of Twine in Minnesota, and many more…

set list

the crowd was enthusiastic, and all the applause was well-deserved.

Your stripped-down version of you, known as The Ridiculously Self-Indulgent, Ill-Advised Vanity Tour, neglected the familiar fat suit from Eat It, and you never donned a Reynolds Wrap hat from Foil, or a Jedi robe from The Saga Begins. Instead, you featured composed musicians seated on stools,

the band

playing original music from your library of clever parodies that we fondly remember from the 80’s and 90’s, and we loved all 100 minutes of it… although, we would have benefitted from cue cards on your rendition of Bob, for no other reason than to appreciate your insanity just a bit more:

Your twisted vision is a true testament to a society gone crazy on Crazy Glue, and koo-koo for Coco Puffs.

red Al

Your self-mocking and lampooning lyrics are delicately designed around intricate word puzzles that tell stories of ridiculous proportions, but still manage to make us smirk at ourselves with unwitting social commentaries about pop culture, religion and other uncharacteristic conventions of modern living.

Your wink-and-nod parodies–the product of a love affair mashup of music genres and sub-cultures–are at their best when you rip off the bandaid of political correctness and hypocrisy, and generously sing about the neurosis of our society.

With all sincerity, Weird Al, you are the court jester of a generation, and for that, I thank you.

Respectfully, Neal

P.S. I have dedicated a parody of my own to you–an homage of sorts, as a tribute to your talent and imagination that is rooted in a James Bond classic, The Spy Who Loved Me:

Nobody does it better
Makes me feel sad for the rest
Nobody does it half as good as you
Weird Al, you’re the best.

[It’s more fun if you play the audio and sing along]


Nobody doesn’t like butter.
Dairy is simply the best.
Starting out warm, straight from the bovine’s udder,

Baby, it’s a breast.


Whenever we’re beaching,

I can’t help from reaching
the strings to your bathing suit top.
I want to unbind them,
and simply remind them
of what it’s like to be there when they flop.

And nobody doesn’t like boobies,

cuz titties are always the best.
Your buttocks and legs, they only take second place.
Baby, it’s your breasts.

Whenever you’re nursing,

and people are cursing,
“You shouldn’t be flashing your breasts!”
They can’t stop their gawking,
while all the time talking–
Claiming it’s too lewd and lascivious.

Nobody doesn’t like butter

Soy milk just won’t pass the test
As for me, it’s always been half and half
Baby, baby, darlin’, it’s your breasts.

Baby it’s the breasts

Darlin’, it’s your breasts
Baby, like them best

Uh, uh, uh,

Oh, oh, oh,
uh, uh, uh, eyuh, eyuh
Uh, uh, uh,
Oh, oh, oh,
uh, uh, uh, eyuh, eyuh

*Special thanks to my son, Noah who arranged the “extra” of our extra special evening.

June 15, 2018 UPDATE

“Weird Al” just completed his 77th and last date of his Ridiculously Self-Indulgent, Ill-Advised Vanity Tour, and has released a compendium of snippets from all the cover songs his band performed as the encore of each concert.

Oh, the power of their versatility!