The World Shifted

My first gun! Red Ryder special. The goal: go forth and kill something. I was 9 or 10 and out for blood. The most common living things in our woods were Cat Birds. Now, Cat Birds are related to the Mockingbird and have similar song patterns. They sing their little hearts out. But sometimes they make a whining cat-meowing annoying sound. My rule: Leave them alone when singing, shoot them when mewing. So over the course of a few days 4 or 5 fell to the mighty hunter. Then, a small woodpecker caught my attention: stalk, aim, shoot, HIT. I walked over to pick up the bird but it wasn’t dead. In my hand, it looked at me with that one-eyed look birds give you and the bottom fell out. I felt sick, sorry and terribly wrong. The woodpecker said (not in words, but emotion) “What have you done? Do you have any idea what you have done?” in my brain, and then died. I can’t really explain it, but except for one other series of shameful behavior (I may confess this later), I never killed another bird for “fun”. Woodpecker spoke loud and clear. And I heard loud and clear.

image: http://flickr.com/photos/99998929@N00/2037775547/

Truth? Why not sue me?

I just had a conversation with someone that related the story of someone getting sued for telling the truth, and without even mentioning the individual that did the suing. No details please. I don’t want to get sued either. But here’s the thing: I thought that to be sued you had to either do something wrong or at least appear to have done something wrong. Apparently not so. All you have to be is alive, and in somebody’s sights. Probably you will win the suit if your facts are correct, and maybe you will get your costs paid by whoever sued you if the judge thinks the suit was frivolous. But come on for Pete’s sake. If I have an opinion about, say, onions, and I think they might hurt you if you eat too many, can some Texas onion farmer sue me? Can he or she claim I am hurting the sale of onions from Texas? You would think that since the Supreme Court claims mega corporations are persons as far as the First Amendment is concerned that I would be protected too. Am I? I guess the way to find out is to push the envelope and wait for the suits to flow. Anybody out there want to start a “Woody Search Defense Fund”? Who knows, I may already have pissed off a whole species of goose by claiming they stink when you cook them. And, they aren’t the only thing that stinks.

Image:http://www.yale.edu/terc/democracy/may1text/images/McCarthyandCohen.jpg&imgrefurl=http://www.yale.edu/terc/democracy/may1text/may1text.html&usg=__smxDlp2zOpmkwBeV705mx_cCJB0=&h=750&w=993&sz=90&hl=en&start=6&um=1&itbs=1&tbnid=ik2e5Uzp9I2tzM:&tbnh=113&tbnw=149&prev=/images%3Fq%3Djoe%2Bmccarthy%26hl%3Den%26sa%3DN%26um%3D1

Where did we go wrong?

Once the symbol of a proud and defiant young nation, the Rattlesnake is now hunted mercilessly. Where did we go wrong?
Remember the tale of the Tortoise and the Hare? In the end, the tortoise won the race. What about the tale of the Tortoise and the Rattlesnake? In this story the tortoise loses everything. The story? Well, in Georgia there is a game called “Gas the Rattlesnake”. This is done so they can be captured and taken to one of two Rattlesnake Roundups. Here snakes are “milked” for venom, killed and skinned, cooked, gawked at, sold and generally mistreated. The tortoise is an innocent bystander. The way it works is this: the snake lives in the burrow that the tortoise digs, kind of like a roommate. When the strong and fearless snake hunter blows gasoline into the burrow, the snake leaves and the tortoise dies. And so do the many other creatures that live in the burrow. And the point? The point is that the whole exercise is pointless and destructive. Nobody needs to catch and kill these beautiful and increasingly rare snakes. The whole exercise is for a certain kind of person to demonstrate “manliness” and a few cities to make money on the festival. And over 300 species that live with the tortoise die for the morons. And of course the snakes die too. What a total waste of life.

Gadsden Flag Image: Public domain.

Interesting Food Continued

The photo probably is all you need to figure out why this was an interesting food. This fine sausage is a Christmas speciality Tuscany and probably other parts of Italy as well. We found it in a tiny grocery store in Castiglione d'Orcia, a small hill town near Montipulchiano. We were looking for some smoked salmon and the ingredients for a nice pasta dish when we saw it. Now this, I thought, is really a "head cheese". Naturally I had to have a slice and despite the way it looks, the taste was wonderful. Spicy and tangy, and not many bristles. If you get out that way in the winter, look for it. You won't be disappointed. By the way, Sally passed up this chance to taste the head. Maybe next time I can convince her to take the plunge.
Image: Woody Search

From the Past

It came from deep inside me. Growing quickly outward and upward into my chest. Pressure. Like something trying to get out. Then the tears. Not flowing, just lingering on my lids. I could barely breathe. Not once, but twice within 15 minutes. Death? Ecstasy? Neither. A primeval, genetic response probably. But what could cause such a deep and awe-inspiring sensation? God? A heart attack? No, it was a stunning performance of the TCC African Drum and Dance Ensemble. Unbelievable power in the pulsing rhythm and the harmony of many drums. I was within ten feet of the group and I swear I have never heard anything so powerful. It spoke to the deepest level of human history. If you ever get a chance to experience this group, do it. I suspect you will be changed in ways you won’t see coming.

Image: http://www.asza.com/idjembe.shtml

The definition of "Craven Coward"

Gay marriage foes want campaign contributions anonymous, citing 'harassment' What a bunch of whining cowardly assholes. Oops. My New York upbringing just slipped out. Maybe I ought to publish this ANONYMOUSLY so no one would know I think using words like "asshole" is a good idea sometimes. These AHs push to get gay marriage banned because of some misguided religious or moral compass, then want to hide. If you hate fags, stand up and say so. If you love Jesus, stand up and say so. Or, say them both in the same sentence. I don't care. But at least have the guts to say "My name is Roger Rabbit and I hate fags and love Jesus." Now I know who to talk to.

Peel away the curtain of secrecy and cowardice and you will find a whining simpering AH with a sappy smile saying something like "I have the right to my opinions." Yeah, so do I.

I guess you could tell? This really pisses me off. (Oops. NY again.)

Photo: http://images.cheezburger.com/completestore/2009/11/17/129029967959361376.jpg

Headline: http://latimesblogs.latimes.com/lanow/2009/01/proponents-of-1.html

Another Very Bad Sign: 5/4

In a stunning reversal of "established law" the Supreme Court has decided that companies are "people" and therefore protected by the First Amendment right to free speech. So this means that any entity can mount a multi-million or -billion dollar ad campaign to defeat or support someone running for office. This actually means that huge amounts of money will be spent to make sure House and Senate members are elected or reelected if and when they show respect and support for the corporate entities that put them in office. You and I can take out ads in the N.Y. Times for or against anybody. Now the big players can do the same. Got some spare change for a one minute spot on CNN? They do. And best of all they can be really dirty and tell lies and half truths if they want to because by the time they get slapped (if they ever do, remember the guys that have to slap them are the guys they put in office) the election is long over. Sue away pal, sue away.
But the big surprise is who voted to gut all the campaign finance regs. Kennedy, Roberts, Alito, Scalia and Thomas. Are you surprised yet?

That sound you hear in the distance is the sound of politicians sucking harder and longer at the tit of big money.

Interestingly the big Republican guns think this is a good news event. Hmmmmm. Makes me kind of queasy. No, actually it makes me really sick.

Image: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2010/01/21/supreme-court-rolls-back_n_431227.html

Cooking the Goose Part II: Cook Same

Where were we? Oh yeah. Well the question of why we were the only hunters in the bay is easy: the Canada geese weren't in yet, and everybody in the world but us knew that. Back to the story. We got home, divvied up the game and I went home. One went in the freezer for a mount and I cleaned the others. Next day I popped goosey in the oven and waited while it cooked. Then the smell started. Nasty. Was this a Heron? No, a Brant. A quick call to one of the other hunters confirmed that it wasn't just my goose. Vile smell went out back in the roaster and in the garbage next morning.

What the hell had happened? An ornithologist friend explained it this way: Atlantic flyway Brant eat eel grass and sea lettuce while migrating and this gives them a peculiar odor. Peculiar? His mother suggested soaking the entire goose in milk for 24hrs before cooking to get rid of the aroma. Did that. Didn't help. Another garbaged goose. Now we knew why the locals were laughing. Dumb city boys. I never hunted another waterfowl after that trip. I actually gave up on birds entirely, relying on supermarkets. At least if you get a stinky goose at Publix you can get your money back. But I got a great hatch cover, and nearly 40 years later we still use it for a coffee table. It sits there silently laughing.

Cooking the Goose, Part I: First Obtain a Goose

The dream of a hunting lifetime: goose hunting in the Chesapeake just off Wallops Island. We got out before sunup on the opening day. A couple of miles by boat from Chincoteague put us in shallow water with a fair number of permanent blinds in sight. Strangely, no one was in any of the blinds. The 4 of us took over a big blind and settled in to wait. Geese came in waves and in a few hours we had our limits, and a low tide. So, we slogged a mile or more pulling the boat. I stepped on something that felt unusual, reached down and put my hand in the handle of a very old hatch cover. The thing weighed a couple of hundred pounds and was completely waterlogged. I talked the guys into putting it on the bow of the boat (15' aluminum) and we added that to the pull. We got back to the dock at dusk, loaded the boat with the geese on the floor and tired but happy started for home. A quick stop for gas and we would be off. So there we were, in a gas station on Chincoteague, obviously hunters, when a few locals walked up an started the conversation: "You boys (our average age then was about 30) been huntin?". Yeah man! we got our limit too!! One of them looked in the boat and started to laugh. "Hey boys, look here!" The locals went to the boat and looked in. They all started to laugh and one of the said, to no one in particular "Them's Brant geese" and started laughing again. They walked away talking to each other and laughing. We wondered what the joke was, and why we were the only hunters on the bay that day. We found out and that tale continues in part II of "Cooking the Goose."

Image: sdakotabirds.com/species/photos/brant.jpg

A Dream

In a dream I had the other night, I walked past a parked car and saw my brother Tom in the passenger seat. As is often the case in dreams, he was much younger than he is now. I stopped to ask why he was sitting there and he said "I don't know where I am". Then I noticed a cop approaching with several tickets in his hand. I asked what happened and he told me that my brother had rear-ended his police car. He showed me minor damage and then asked me who I was. I told him I was Tom's brother, and my name was Richard Search. He asked for I.D. so I gave him my drivers licence. He asked again what my name was. I told him again. Then he said "According to your licence, you are Tom Search, and his licence says he is Richard Search." He showed the licence with my picture and the name: Thomas Lee Search. I pulled out my new I.D. from work: Thomas Search and my picture. I ended the dream there, confused and wondering. If dreams mean anything at all, what could that switch possibly mean? Probably nothing at all, but still - - - - - .

Image: http://bellanimaphotography.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2009/07/twins-53.jpg