A lazy day in San Antonio

Miss D. and I had a quiet, laid-back sort of day after the fun and excitement of the past two days with the Alamo Liaison Squadron.

We didn't leave the hotel until late morning. After all, we'd been running hard for two days, and Sundays are for resting! I had a lot of fun with a two-year-old Pyrenean Mountain Dog in the parking lot of the hotel. His owners had tied him to the fence overnight, as he couldn't be admitted to the hotel, but of course, for a breed like that, that was no hardship. He perked up when I came out bearing my breakfast of bagels spread with cream cheese, topped with chopped hard-boiled eggs, and begged insisted on sharing it with me. (He ended up with all of it - I went back for more!) The fun part was, he deliberately left a chunk of bagel (after licking the cream cheese off it), and carefully positioned it before lying down a few feet away. The Great-Tailed Grackles (of whom there are dozens nearby) immediately lined up along the fence to fly down and eat it - whereupon he'd jump at them, growling loudly, and they'd fly back up to the fence with squawks of furious frustration. He kept at it for at least half an hour, having a wonderful time playing with the birds. Who says dogs don't have a sense of humor?

I tried to get to Market Square with Miss D., but the thousands of people and hundreds of cars in the area soon convinced us that we wanted to be elsewhere, ASAP! Instead, we spent the afternoon following the Mission Trail to each of the San Antonio Spanish missions. The only one we omitted was the Alamo, which was in the middle of town, where all the people were. Not a good idea for a quick visit! Here's the Mission Concepción, to give you a small taste of what we saw.




From there, we tried to find the Botanical Garden, but got horribly lost in a maze of badly-signposted streets in and around the Zoo. We eventually gave up, and spent a short while in the Japanese Tea Gardens instead, which was very interesting. By now it was well after four, and we hadn't eaten since breakfast at the hotel: so we decided on an early supper, and by mutual consent headed back to the Barn Door, where we'd eaten yesterday. Another wonderful meal ensued . . . chicken-fried chicken, a Texas-size New York strip, fried mushrooms with gravy, fried onions (thin-sliced, juicy and tender - lovely!), chocolate cream pie for Miss D., and home-made strawberry shortcake for yours truly (which proved so successful that another portion accompanied us back to the hotel, for a late-night snack!). The service was of a quality to match the food, and I happily tipped our waitress 30% for the second night in a row. She was worth it. I can't recommend the Barn Door too highly, if you find yourself in San Antonio and hungry.

We leave early tomorrow morning for Houston, where Miss D. will catch a plane back to Alaska. After dropping her at the airport, I'll head on back to Louisiana. Diamond Mair has promised to give me telephonic instructions for an easier, quicker route than I-10 (about which I complained a couple of days ago, if you recall), so I'm hoping for a less stressful return trip.

Normal blogging tempo should resume by Tuesday evening. Thanks for your patience in allowing me a few days off from the normal volume of posts!

Peter

A great gathering

Today Miss D. and I attended the annual fly-in and gathering of the Alamo Liaison Squadron at Cannon Field, south of San Antonio, TX.

We had a wonderful time. Proceedings opened with the bagpipes, and continued through various ceremonies and events, including fly-pasts, a demonstration of casualty evacuation aboard a Stinson L-5 (fascinating to see, as it was the forerunner of casevac missions flown by helicopters such as the Bell 47 - known as the H-13 Sioux in military service - in Korea), various other aerial demonstrations, flour-bombing a target (in which most of the aircraft 'bomb-aimers' were young children, all shrieking with excitement, throwing paper bags full of flour out of the windows while the pilots tried to hold their aircraft steady in the fairly brisk cross-wind). Aircraft were on static display (kids again having the most fun, imagining machine-guns mounted on every available spot, and play-firing them at imaginary enemy opponents). Lunch was a catered BBQ. I guess there were several hundred people present, including some young USAF ROTC candidates, which was good to see.

Among those attending were two pilots who'd actually flown L-birds during World War II, one of them at Okinawa. They were honored with special presentations during the festivities, which was very appropriate, and pleasing to this veteran of another war and another service.

A documentary on liaison aircraft was shown continuously throughout the day. It's worth checking out for yourself - see here for details. In particular, I was fascinated to see footage of the Brodie System in operation. I'd heard of it, of course, but never seen it portrayed. Briefly, it was a system of cables that allowed a Piper Cub or equivalent aircraft to 'land' on a support ship without needing a flight deck. Such aircraft would have played a major role in bombardment liaison duties when Japan was invaded, although fortunately the two atomic bombs rendered that unnecessary.

Tonight we took the advice of Crucis, who recommended it in a comment to an earlier post about our travels. We went to the Barn Door for supper. Ooooh... my stomach is still purring! For starters I chose the crab cakes, while Miss D. decided to go with bacon-wrapped chicken bites, highly spiced. For the main course I had fresh calves' liver and onions, with mashed potatoes and creamed spinach (the latter being the best and tastiest I've ever had, IMHO). Miss D. had a chicken breast cooked in apple brandy, again with all the trimmings. We compromised on a shared piece of cheesecake for dessert. Superb food, and good value for money, considering the quality. We're planning to go back there tomorrow evening. Thanks, Crucis - great advice!

This was a much happier experience than our trip to the Riverwalk last night. I was last there five or six years ago, and remember it as very pleasant; well-dressed people, enjoying their evening, with not too much noise, mess or fuss. Not so this time. There were far too many people downtown, perhaps due to spring break, and most of them had no manners whatsoever. In particular, Miss D. was bothered by young Hispanic men who seemed to deliberately walk right into her. I've not seen that sort of macho display before, but after last night, I think it's high time a few heads were broken to cure these young punks of their habit.

We ate at Michelino's, a restaurant on the Riverwalk, but were very disappointed. Miss D.'s chicken marinara was freezer-burned, and the sauce was neither fresh nor hot. The pasta was soggy and definitely past its prime. My veal parmesan was edible, but not particularly distinguished. Service was not good, taking far too long, and some of the staff appeared to be drunk. All in all, it was much worse than I remember the same restaurant as being during my previous visit. I won't be going back to the Riverwalk - or Michelino's - in a hurry, I can promise you!

It's our last day in San Antonio tomorrow. We'll play tourist, and relax a bit: then it's homeward bound. Normal blogging will resume very shortly.

Peter

Fun with aircraft

Today Miss D. and I journeyed out to the Alamo Liaison Squadron at Cannon Field, South of San Antonio. We had a great time.

Piper L-3 Cub under repair

The ALS operates over half-a-dozen World War II-vintage liaison aircraft, and is rebuilding others. Some of its members own their own planes as well. The aircraft are in an amazingly good state of preservation, particularly considering (as ALS members point out) that when they were built, they weren't expected to survive long enough under combat conditions to need a 100-hour checkup! That says a lot for the pilots who flew them.

Hatz biplane taxiing past a Taylorcraft L-2 Grasshopper (blue, in hangar)

Being a pilot, Miss D. spent most of the time talking with the owners and pilots. I rapidly learned that when pilots get together, they 'talk shop' even more than do firearms enthusiasts! She also got to fly in a Stinson L5 liaison aircraft, designed for the purpose (rather than adapted from a civilian design, such as the Piper J-3 Cub becoming the Piper L-4 Grasshopper in military guise, or the Taylorcraft BL12-65 being transformed into the Taylorcraft L-2 Grasshopper). With a 6-cylinder engine, the Stinson L-5 was rather more powerful than the other liaison aircraft at the airfield. Miss D. commented she could feel the difference, and would treat it with respect as a pilot.

Stinson L-5 Grasshopper

We'll be going out there again tomorrow morning, to attend the ALS Open Day. If any of my readers are in the San Antonio area, you can find details of the open day here. Come on out and join us - it promises to be a lot of fun! I saw one gentleman making up flour bombs for the bombing competition, and another informed me that no-one's ever actually hit the target! Last year someone was pretty good, but was allegedly disqualified because he deliberately bombed the control tower. Sounds like a good time was had by all concerned!

The ALS HQ, Cannon Field, snapped by Miss D. from the Stinson L-5.
Yours truly may be seen at the bottom of the picture, standing below the hangars.

I'll try to post more later tonight or tomorrow morning. Right now, I have to take Miss D. out to supper. Given all the great restaurants around here, that should be no burden at all!



Peter

Throw away that thong - there's a better way!

I'm interested to see that the loincloth is making a comeback in Japan - as women's underwear. Reuters reports:

Loincloths, called "fundoshi" in Japanese, were worn by adult men in the past, but they are now a rarity.

Kyoto-based lingerie firm Wacoal, however, has brought them back into fashion, this time for women seeking "emancipation" from the tightness of conventional underwear.

"We wanted young women to have a more sense of freedom and release. And as we tried to come up with the ultimate liberation item for women, we thought of a fundoshi," said Tomoka Okamura, merchandise director for Wacoal's Nanafun female loincloths.

Reuters also provides this video of the lingerie comeback kid.

Interesting. I wonder how it would work with Western-style clothing? Have any lady readers tried it? If so, please let us know how it works.

Peter

Made it to San Antonio

I had an interesting drive from Louisiana to San Antonio today. I-10 from the Texas border almost all the way to my destination had construction crews hard at work every few miles. I reckon I made good an average speed of no more than 40 mph between the LA-TX border and Houston. I think, going back, it'll be faster to get off the interstate and use back roads. What's with all the construction, Texas? You have a windfall of highway funds that you had to use or lose?

Anyway, Miss D. and I are checked into our hotel. We raided a local Wal-Mart for some essentials, and a lot of fresh fruit and other good things to eat. (Much cheaper and easier to eat in one's hotel room!). Miss D. is overwhelmed by the difference in prices between Alaska and here. Of course, AK has much higher transport costs to get things there, but even so, she reckons the average prices here are less than half what she's used to up there. (Of course, so are the salaries, but that's not unexpected.)

Tomorrow we head out to the pre-gathering preparation day of the Alamo Liaison Squadron. Miss D. is restoring a WW2 Taylorcraft observation plane, and hopes to learn a lot. On Saturday is the big affair, and we'll play tourist (hopefully with Lawdog) on Sunday.

As mentioned yesterday, blogging will be very light tonight - just this and one more post. I'm pretty tired, so I'll hit the sack early. I'll put up more material tomorrow evening.

Peter

Traveling again

Blogging may be light for the next few days, although I'll try to post each evening if possible. I'm heading for San Antonio, to rendezvous with my Alaskan friend Miss D. We're going to attend the annual fly-in and picnic of the Alamo Liaison Squadron, a group of folks who restore and fly World War II-vintage liaison aircraft such as the Piper Cub, Taylorcraft and the like. I wrote about these aircraft and their foreign counterparts in Weekend Wings #15, as you may recall. They provided superb service in the era before the helicopter.

We'll spend a couple of days revelling in the sights, sounds and smells of old aircraft, and having fun with those who fly, maintain and just plain enjoy them. We'll also play tourist in San Antonio. There's a Mexican restaurant I recall that serves roast goat, done just right . . . mmmm, good!

Lawdog may pop down for a brief visit as well. Here's hoping! Anyway, I'll be back to the grindstone on Monday, and Miss D. will head back to Alaska. Say a prayer for us both for safe travels, if you're so inclined.

Peter

An amazing performance!

I'm sure many of my readers know 'Taps', the hauntingly beautiful bugle melody used to signal 'Lights Out' on US army bases, and also played at the funerals of service personnel. I'm more used to the English 'Last Post', which is very similar: but either piece, well played, will bring me to attention, and make the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I've buried more than a few comrades in arms to the strains of a bugle saluting their passing in this way.

Thanks to an e-mail from Ed C., I was alerted to a magnificent full performance of the piece of music we know in abbreviated form as 'Taps'. In this form, it's known as 'Il Silenzio'. It's played by 13-year-old Dutch prodigy Melissa Venema, with André Rieu and his orchestra. Turn up the volume, sit quietly, and enjoy.

Beautiful! Thanks to Ms. Venema, M. Rieu and his orchestra for bringing tears to my eyes, and many memories to mind of comrades gone before me.

Peter

A (virgin) lamb to the slaughter?

I'm profoundly suspicious about a report from England.

A devout Christian has landed a job at a lap dance club.

Dave Dragas is a manager for the dancers but has never been tempted because he doesn't believe in sex before marriage.

'I've been propositioned more than 20 times but the girls won't have much luck,' he said.

The self-confessed virgin, of Kingston in Surrey, has never had a girlfriend and goes to church when his work hours permit.

It took him six months to tell his father about the job and 'he wasn't very happy'.

But the 26-year-old believes his £35,000-a-year salary at Secrets in central London will help him provide for a family one day.

'It's fun but it's strictly professional,' he added.

Fun, yes; professional, unquestionably; but Christian??? I hardly think so. I wonder whether Mr. Dragas' protestations of innocence (and virginity) aren't designed to attract rather more interest (and custom) to his establishment than it could otherwise expect?

Hmmm . . . you make the call.

Peter

Congratulations to Boeing!

The Boeing Company has achieved a very significant milestone. Flight Global reports:

The Boeing 737 has reached an historic milestone with the delivery of the 6,000th aircraft, almost exactly 42 years after the twinjet first took to the air. The delivery makes the 737 by far the most produced jet airliner in history.

Boeing 737-100

Cockpit of Boeing 737-100

The 6,000th 737, an -800 (LN-NOL), was handed over to International Lease Finance on 16 April for onward lease to Norwegian Air Shuttle. The original 737-100 flew on 9 April 1967 and the first deliveries (a -100 to Lufthansa and -200 to United Airlines) took place in December that year. Shipments of the updated 737-300 model began in November 1984 while the first of the current Next Generation variants (a -700) was delivered 12 years ago to Southwest Airlines. With over 2,200 on order, 737 production is on course to surpass 8,000 aircraft.

Boeing 737-800

Cockpit of Boeing 737-800

Total production comprises 1,144 737-100/200s; 1,988 737-300/400/500s; and 2,868 737-700/800/900s.

All photographs courtesy of Wikipedia.

That's a heck of an achievement in modern aviation. I don't know how many miles I've flown in 737's, but it's got to be in the high five figures at least. I daresay there'll be many more before all of them are replaced by whatever will be their successor - and at my age, there'll probably be lots of 737's still in service when I make my last take-off, so to speak.

Congratulations to Boeing on a great plane, with a magnificent 41 years in airline service and many more decades to come.

Peter

A sad death, and a strange one

I'm saddened by a report of an inquest in England. It looks like road rage caused the death of the angry motorist - but her rage might have been fueled by mental problems. The Times reports:

It was the ultimate expression of road rage. A furious woman driver died after ramming another vehicle and spinning her wheels so fast that her own car burst into flames.

Serena Sutton-Smith, 54, burnt to death after refusing to get out of her Vauxhall Nova as she sat with her foot flat on the accelerator.

She spun the wheels so fast that her tyres disintegrated and the metal rims sent a shower of sparks into the engine, igniting the brake fluid and setting the car on fire.

Appalled onlookers urged her to get out of the car as the flames licked around her but she told them to “F*** off”, an inquest in Gloucester was told.

The road-rage attack took place on a quiet country road in the Cotswolds between Weston sub Edge and Mickleton in Gloucestershire.

. . .

Fire officer Andrew Clayton said: “The circumstances indicate that this was a deliberate act. She remained in the vehicle after ramming a car and then sat with the front wheels spinning until fire developed.

“The front nearside passenger wheel gouged into the road surface by 50mm and the tyre was totally destroyed by the friction. This would have produced sparks igniting fluid, most probably brake fluid.”

The inquest heard that Ms Sutton-Smith, who had previously worked behind the bar at a working men’s club in Ashton sub Edge, had a history of erratic behaviour and suffered from bipolar disorder.

Alan Crickmore, the Gloucestershire coroner, said that her mental condition meant that she failed to appreciate the danger she was in.

. . .

“I am satisfied the fire was started because of her deliberate actions. But I am far from satisfied that at that point in time it was her clear intention that death would ensue.

“I think it is more likely than not that she failed to understand the peril she was in and the consequences of her actions.” He recorded a verdict of accidental death.

There's more at the link.

A tragic and pointless death, to be sure: but it made me think about other incidents of road rage, particularly those so frequently reported in this country. The US has closed most of its institutions to care for those with mental disorders, preferring to leave them in society and treat them with drugs that control their behavior. I'd love to know how many of our road rage incidents involve individuals like this, who are perhaps not taking their medication as they should, or whose dose hasn't been adjusted to keep pace with their changing condition.

Peter

What's in a name?

It seems that the New Zealand Geographic Board has stirred up a storm with a recent announcement.

You'd think that knowing the names of the major parts of your own country would be fairly simple to get right - but authorities in New Zealand were surprised to discover that their country's two main islands weren't called what they thought they were.

In fact, it turned out they didn't have names at all.

Experts who were looking into possible alternative Maori names for New Zealand's two main islands were startled to find their English names - North Island and South Island - were never made legal.




The board had spent several years exploring a process for formally recognizing alternative Maori names for each island before they noticed that the islands had never been formally given English names either, board chairman Don Grant said.

'While researching this issue, we noted that "North Island" and "South Island" are actually not official names under our legislation, despite their common long-term usage,' Grant said.

To repair the 200-year-old oversight, the country's Geographic Board said it would take steps to legally name the two islands, which make up more than 95 percent of New Zealand's land area.

The New Zealand Geographic Board assigns, approves, alters or discontinues the use of place names for land features, undersea features and protected areas in New Zealand, its offshore islands and its continental shelf and in the Ross Sea region of Antarctica.

South Island, the larger of the pair, is also known locally as 'the Mainland,' while North Island, where three-quarters of the population lives, is also called 'Pig Island,' partly for the wild pigs that English explorer James Cook brought during a visit and that still roam in the wilderness.

The issue has been complicated by the Geographic Board's invitation to New Zealanders to submit suggested names for the two islands. The BBC reports:

The Geographic Board wants to allow English or Maori names to be used in the future, but this aim is complicated by the fact that competing Maori words exist for each island.

They include Te Ika a Maui (the fish of Maui) for the North Island and Te Wai Pounamu (the waters of greenstone) for the South Island.

Maui was a mythological Maori demi-god who is said to have caught New Zealand while fishing from his brother's canoe.

Maori names appeared on early maps of New Zealand including charts by Captain James Cook, the British explorer and map-maker who claimed the territory for Britain.

New Zealanders (perhaps inevitably) seem to be having fun responding to the BBC report. A selection of their replies:

• How about "Not Australia" and "Still Not Australia"?
• They should be called: "South Island - the best Island" and "North (not as good as the south) Island".
• Why not pick names from Middle Earth to get the tourist numbers back up? Gondor and Mordor? Wellington should be changed to Hobbiton, Auckland [to] Rivendell. The English names are ugly anyway.
• I would call them the 51st and the 52nd State of the USA.
• North and South are a bit bland. Perhaps we could call the north "Jafaland", standing for "just another flamin' Aucklander" and the South "One-eye Country", because they're blind in the other. Or maybe "Dairy" and "Sheep" Islands respectively, to denote the main population. If we're going Maori, maybe "Ika" (fish) and "Waka" (canoe). Then one can say the other smells like fish, to which they can reply "go paddle it". Point being, no matter what they're called, the already-ingrained attitudes between one and the other are not going to change.

I have my own memories of New Zealanders' naming abilities. One of its Maori names translates as 'The Land Of The Long White Cloud'. When the Springbok rugby team from South Africa toured New Zealand in 1981, anti-apartheid activists famously re-dubbed the country 'The Land Of The Wrong White Crowd'!



Peter

This is TOOO funny!

I'm sure readers are familiar with TV shows such as 'Britain's Got Talent' (with Paul Potts as its first winner, known to many, and which only last week produced newcomer Susan Boyle as its latest crowd-pleaser). The show is an international franchise, with local variations in over twenty countries.

The current round of 'Sweden's Got Talent' (known in Sweden as Talang 2009) got under way a few days ago. Auditions are currently being conducted for the first round. One set of performers produced this article in The Local.

Four young men from Sweden's industrial heartland have taken talent to new levels with a taste-defying video clip that has captured the imagination of a large international audience.

. . .

Friday's performance left the Swedish studio audience in tears of laughter as the poorly choreographed quartet struggled manfully to cover up their rude bits with rings of wholesome crispbread.

But when one of the young men eventually lost the struggle to keep his ring intact, a presenter was quickly on hand to toss him a new one.

The boys were cleared to advance to the final audition by a unanimous jury amid calls for an encore from a jubilant audience.

The absolutely hysterical video below is of their act. I still can't believe the nerve - and the cheek! - of these four young men in putting on so risque a performance . . . but it's funny as hell!

WARNING: This is not, repeat, NOT safe for work! Don't watch this video unless you're somewhere where it won't draw down the wrath of the prurient on your head! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!

Now, on to the fun . . .

Note that despite the nature of their act, they went through to the next round! That should be worth watching . . . what are they going to come up with to top this performance?





Peter

The taste of the Milky Way?

I'm absolutely delighted to read that our galaxy may have - of all things - a taste!

Astronomers testing a giant dust cloud at the heart of the Milky Way say it might taste of raspberries.




Scientists from the Max Planck Institute for Radio Astronomy in Bonn, were searching for evidence of amino acids, reports The Guardian.

They say they failed to locate any but did find ethyl formate - the chemical responsible for the flavour of raspberries.

The astronomers used the IRAM telescope in Spain to analyse electromagnetic radiation emitted by a hot and dense region of Sagittarius B2 that surrounds a newborn star.

While scouring their data, the team found ethyl formate as well as evidence for the deadly chemical propyl cyanide in the same cloud. The two molecules are the largest yet discovered in deep space.

Astronomer Arnaud Belloche said: "It does happen to give raspberries their flavour, but there are many other molecules that are needed to make space raspberries."

How fascinating! Now, if they can find the chemicals to make custard or cream too, then future interstellar space travelers might have all they need for a galactic feast!

Who says astronomical research doesn't bear fruit?



Peter

The relics of Nazi eugenics are still with us

Nazi Germany practiced a warped, twisted eugenics that led to the deaths of millions upon millions of people. However, it didn't stop with people. As well as breeding an Aryan 'Master Race', they wanted to breed animals from the past that would symbolize that mastery.

According to an article in the Daily Mail:

It is not exactly the invasion that Hitler foresaw.

But deep in the West Country, a symbol of the Nazi vision for world domination has finally found a home in the fields of England.

This cow is a relic of the Fuhrer's support for a scheme to revive the mighty aurochs - a huge beast which featured heavily in Teutonic folklore.




The aurochs had been hunted to extinction in Europe by 1627, but two zoologist brothers decided to 'bring them back to life' in a breeding plan which later won Nazi support.

Heinz and Lutz Heck mixed animals from the Scottish Highlands, Corsica and the French Camargue, as well as Spanish fighting bulls.

The animals were then transported to game parks in Schorfheide in Brandenburg, outside Berlin, and the Neander Valley in Dusseldorf.

After the fall of the Nazis, the Heck cattle were seen as an unwanted reminder of German oppression and efforts to build a master Aryan race, and almost all of them were destroyed.

But a few survived, and 13 have now been shipped from a conservation park in Belgium to Broadwoodwidger on the Devon-Cornwall border.

(Click for larger view)

Farmer and conservationist Derek Gow explained that the Nazis supported the re-creation of the auroch to evoke the power of the 'runes, folklores and legends of the Germanic peoples'.

He said: 'Aurochs were wild bulls. Julius Caesar recorded them as being bulls as big as elephants.

'Young men hunted these bulls as preparation for battle and leadership in war, but also to obtain their huge 6ft-wide horns as drinking vessels. They were huge trophies.'




Mr Gow said his Heck cattle are shorter than the aurochs, but share their muscular build, deep brown complexion and shaggy fringe.

'They look like the cave paintings of Lascaux and Altamira,' he said. 'It makes you think of the light of a tallow lamp and these huge bulls on these cave paintings leaping out at you from darkened walls.'

There's more at the link.

This fascinates me. I knew of Nazi attempts to breed a Master Race of humans, but I never knew they tried to revive the Aurochs as well! The more one learns of their warped, twisted outlook on life and reality, the more one wonders how such a megalomaniac as Hitler was able to lead an entire nation to perdition as he did. Surely the majority of Germans couldn't have been so blind to reality as to swallow his guff? Yet, apparently, they were . . .

All the same, I'd love to see an Aurochs in the flesh - but only from a safe distance!

Peter

More Divine appearances in mundane items

Back in October last year I wrote about God and human delusions: purported images of Divine subjects that have 'appeared' in ordinary items. Some have lasted, some haven't, but none has ever been proven to be anything but accidental and coincidental.

Two new such appearances have hit the news this week. One, in England, concerns a man who found the 'face of Jesus' in a bite mark in his chocolate bar.

A chocolate fan has taken the biscuit after finding an image of Jesus after biting into a Kit-Kat.




The astonishing vision emerged on Good Friday after a website called for oddball religious discoveries.

"I was amazed. I just took a bite and then I saw the face of Christ in it," the finder told the NU.nl Dutch website.

The second is from Maine, where a New Gloucester luthier, Joe Lepore, says he found the face of Christ on a guitar he'd just made.

"I started looking at it and I'm like hey, there's something in there. Then I saw a face. I go, that's weird. Then I started looking at it again, then I turned it over and I saw this face and I say, 'Hey, there's a guy standing there and he looks like Jesus,'" said Lepore.

Personally, I can't see a face on that guitar: but I can see the semblance of a face in the bite mark on the chocolate bar, if I stretch my imagination. Needless to say, I don't think either image is of Divine origin!

(On the other hand, if a guitar is instrumental in someone's salvation, who am I to complain? There's no need to get highly strung about it!)



Peter

An American Stonehenge?

I'm fascinated to read, on Wired magazine's Web site, of the Georgia Guidestones. I'd never heard of them before.

According to Wired:

The strangest monument in America looms over a barren knoll in northeastern Georgia. Five massive slabs of polished granite rise out of the earth in a star pattern. The rocks are each 16 feet tall, with four of them weighing more than 20 tons apiece. Together they support a 25,000-pound capstone. Approaching the edifice, it's hard not to think immediately of England's Stonehenge or possibly the ominous monolith from 2001: A Space Odyssey. Built in 1980, these pale gray rocks are quietly awaiting the end of the world as we know it.




Called the Georgia Guidestones, the monument is a mystery — nobody knows exactly who commissioned it or why. The only clues to its origin are on a nearby plaque on the ground - which gives the dimensions and explains a series of intricate notches and holes that correspond to the movements of the sun and stars — and the "guides" themselves, directives carved into the rocks. These instructions appear in eight languages ranging from English to Swahili and reflect a peculiar New Age ideology. Some are vaguely eugenic (guide reproduction wisely—improving fitness and diversity); others prescribe standard-issue hippie mysticism (prize truth—beauty—love—seeking harmony with the infinite).




What's most widely agreed upon — based on the evidence available — is that the Guidestones are meant to instruct the dazed survivors of some impending apocalypse as they attempt to reconstitute civilization.

. . .

Whoever the anonymous architects of the Guidestones were, they knew what they were doing: The monument is a highly engineered structure that flawlessly tracks the sun. It also manages to engender endless fascination, thanks to a carefully orchestrated aura of mystery. And the stones have attracted plenty of devotees to defend against folks who would like them destroyed. Clearly, whoever had the monument placed here understood one thing very well: People prize what they don't understand at least as much as what they do.

There's a great deal more at the link, including the accounts of those who supervised the building of the Guidestones.

Wikipedia quotes the text of the English inscription on the Guidestones as follows:

Maintain humanity under 500,000,000
In perpetual balance with nature

Guide reproduction wisely —
Improving fitness and diversity

Unite humanity with a living
New language

Rule passion — faith — tradition
And all things
With tempered reason

Protect people and nations
With fair laws and just courts

Let all nations rule internally
Resolving external disputes
In a world court

Avoid petty laws and useless officials

Balance personal rights
with Social duties.

Prize truth — beauty — love —
Seeking harmony with the Infinite

Be not a cancer on the earth —
Leave room for nature —
Leave room for nature

As I said, I'd never heard of the Guidestones: but after reading this, I might just make a detour past them next time I'm in Georgia, to take a look for myself.

One does wonder who was behind them, though, and why they went to the trouble and expense of erecting them. Were they trying to produce a New Age version of the ancient and never-fully-understood Medicine Wheel in Bighorn National Forest, Wyoming (shown below)?




Are the Guidestones, indeed, intended to be an instruction manual for survivors of an apocalypse?

I guess we'll never know . . .

Peter

Attack on a President - thirty years ago

Let us remember that this day, April 20th, 2009, is the thirtieth anniversary of a dastardly attack upon a US president.

The story has its origins in 1975, when the film Monty Python And The Holy Grail was released upon an unsuspecting world. It rapidly became (and has remained) a cult classic. In particular, the savage Rabbit of Caerbannog and its nemesis, the Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch, have entered the English language as catch-phrases in their own right. Let's refresh our memories, shall we?

Yes, that's them. (Snicker!)

Anyway, fast-forward to 1979. President Jimmy Carter had gone fishing in or near his home town of Plains, Georgia. The Straight Dope describes what happened next.

He was fishing from a canoe in a pond when he spotted the fateful rabbit swimming toward him. It was never precisely determined what the rabbit's problem was. Carter, always trying to look at things from the other guy's point of view, later speculated that it was fleeing a predator. Whatever the case, it was definitely a troubled rabbit. "It was hissing menacingly, its teeth flashing and nostrils flared and making straight for the president," a press account said.

The Secret Service having been caught flatfooted--I'll grant you an amphibious rabbit assault is a tough thing to defend against--the president did what he could to protect himself. Initially it was reported that he had hit the rabbit with his paddle. Realizing this would not play well with the Rabbit Lovers Guild, Carter later clarified that he had merely splashed water at the rabbit, which then swam off toward shore. A White House photographer, ever alert to history's pivotal moments, snapped a picture of the encounter for posterity.

President Carter discourages a pirate rabbit (upper corner) (click to enlarge)

The pirate perpetrator, enlarged

OK, not one of the shining moments of Carter's career, but so far not a major train wreck, inasmuch as nobody outside the White House knew anything about it. Jody Powell took care of that problem the following August when he told the rabbit story to Associated Press reporter Brooks Jackson over a cup of tea. Powell ought to have known that you cannot tell anything to reporters in August because there is nothing else to write about and they will make any fool thing into a front page scandal. Which is exactly what happened. The Washington Post put the bunny story on page one complete with a cartoon takeoff of the famous "Jaws" movie poster entitled "Paws." The media ran with the story for a week, the worst aspect from Carter's perspective undoubtedly being the columnists, who basically all said, yeah, it's just a rabbit, but it shows you the kind of president we've got here. The administration refused to release the photos, although I seem to recall that Reagan's people later found and leaked them. Carter's subsequent drubbing at the polls was a foregone conclusion, hostage crisis or not. Lesson for life #1: if it moves, kill it. Lesson for life #2: if you can't kill it, for God's sake don't talk about it to the Associated Press.

There's more at the link.

Needless to say, the Jimmy Carter Rabbit Incident became headline news, and - perhaps inevitably - comparisons (none to be taken too seriously) were drawn between his encounter with Sylvilagus aquaticus and King Arthur's fight with the Killer Rabbit of Caerbannog. Some political pundits see this incident as a contributing factor to Carter's defeat by Ronald Reagan in the 1980 Presidential election. Cartoonists across the USA rubbed their hands together in glee and called loudly for more paper and pencils. Saturday Night Live would twice make satirical reference to the incident, in 1989 and 2002.

Therefore, let us remember and celebrate the thirtieth anniversary of this incident with appropriate pomp and (not-too-solemn) ceremony. May I suggest rabbit stew?



Peter

Doofus Of The Day #198

Today's Doofus comes from Ohio.

A US man has been arrested and charged with drink driving after he crashed a motorised bar stool.

The 28-year-old man invented and created the bar stool which he says can reach speeds of 38mph, reports the Newark Advocate.




Police reports said he rolled the Frankenstein-esque lawnmower and bar stool combination on his way home from the pub in Newark, Ohio.

The man claimed the bar stool could reach speeds of 38 mph on its five-horsepower engine but that he was travelling at about 20 mph when he crashed it.

He allegedly admitted to drinking about 15 beers when interviewed by police at hospital but insisted that was after the accident.

“I was riding bar stool and I wrecked. I wasn’t drinking when I wrecked, I drank afterward because my head hurt," he told WCLT Radio.

Uh-huh. And the 15 beers just happened to jump into the ambulance from the side of the road, right?



Peter

A judicial and moral dilemma

I'm really upset at a report from Sweden, but I don't know what I'd do under the circumstances. How about you?

Just hours before a 15-year-old girl was set to give evidence against a 42-year-old man suspected of raping her, she committed suicide.

The man will no longer stand trial for the rape of the teenager, reports Sveriges Radio Jönköping.

The girl came into contact with the man after she started having trouble at school and began suffering from psychological problems.

When the girl was at her lowest ebb she sought contact with the 42-year-old, who is alleged to have supplied her with drugs.

He is also alleged to have raped her repeatedly over the course of last year, when the girl was only 14-years-old.

The case against the man was based on the testimony of the teenager. Her death now means that the case will be closed and the man will no longer stand trial.

If he did, indeed, treat her like that, I want him thrown into the deepest, darkest, dampest cell available, and the key thrown away . . . but I also have to admit that in the absence of sufficient evidence, no-one should be convicted of a crime. The tragic suicide of his accuser means that the prosecutor has been left in an invidious position.

What to do? If one leaves a rapist free to offend again, how many more teenage girls will he target? But . . . we can't say for sure - or, at least, the justice system can't say for sure - that he did it.

It's a heck of a dilemma. What say you, readers?

And may the soul of that poor girl rest in God's peace.

Peter

Lake - what did you say???

I'm trying to get my tongue around this story.

Signs for the difficult-to-spell-and-say lake will be fixed.

The Webster-Dudley-Oxford Chamber of Commerce’s board of directors has unanimously agreed to correct the spelling problems on the signs on Route 12 near Oxford and Route 193 near Thompson.

The 45-letter name is misspelled, with an “o” where a “u” should be, at letter 20, and an “h” instead of “n” at letter 38.

The chamber is researching its records to find out who painted the signs. The signs will either go back to that company or another will handle the correction, according to Eleanor F. Houbre, director of chamber services.

Lake Chargoggagoggmanchauggagoggchaubunagungamaugg is the most widely accepted spelling of the name of the the 3-mile long, 1-milewide lake.

The U.S. Geographic Names Information Systems Web site lists about two dozen variations of the lake’s spelling, but none that corresponds with the chamber of commerce signs, which where replaced in 2003.

There's more at the link.

According to Wikipedia, the lake has many variations in spelling and in pronunciation. It's certainly one of the more entertaining - and tongue-twisting - Wikipedia articles I've ever read!

So . . . if even the authorities aren't sure how to spell the damn thing, why not simply rename it - preferably with a name less destructive to the tongue?



Peter