This is the list I await every spring with the avidity of moviegoers looking at the list of Academy Award nominees, or young men trying to make the list of Ariana Grande's boyfriends.
It's the National Hurricane Center's list of names for the 2019 Atlantic Ocean hurricane season.
And the 2019 storms are: (envelope please...)
Andrea
Barry
Chantal
Dorian
Erin
Fernand
Gabrielle
Humberto
Imelda
Jerry
Karen
Lorenzo
Melissa
Nestor
Olga
Pablo
Rebekah
Sebastien
Tanya
Van
Wendy
As always, I'm sure I know someone in real life to go with each of these names. Some are historic - Nestor Chylak was a longtime American League baseball umpire, Len Barry was the stage name of the singer born Leonard Borisov, and we've all known Olga Skruyacef, right?
If you're scoring at home, hurricane season begins June 1 and continues through Nov. 30.
The NHC has been naming hurricanes since 1953; before that they were referred to as "The Big One of '47" or whatever. They recycle this list every six years, dropping the names of calamitous storms such as Agnes (1972), Andrew (1992), Bob (1991), Ike (2008) and Matthew (1996).
We may see storms as bad as those, but under different names.
As far as forecasts go, AccuWeather has the first guess of the year, and they call for 12 to 14 hurricanes in 2019.
"We think that there will be a few less tropical storms and lower numbers in hurricanes, but again, the old saying is, ‘it only takes one’,” AccuWeather meteorologist Dan Kottlowski guessed.
Wednesday, April 10, 2019
Tuesday, April 9, 2019
What size pants?
I saw this story over the weekend and you probably did too, but did you notice that for once, there was almost total agreement on it?
And I say "almost total," because I have to assume that somewhere out there in the great American population, there is someone who feels pity for a rhino poacher who had a really bad day at the office.
When your office is Kruger National Park in South Africa, it pays to be careful when you're tromping around poaching rhinoceri. People do this because of the desire among some folks to use rhinoceros horn in medical treatment and as status symbols. And because of these lamentable uses, the rhinoceros population is dwindling, another example of man's mistreatment of animals.
But last week, some joker went into the park to bag himself a rhino horn or two, and an elephant took exception. There was a short debate between the man and the elephant, who went to the defense of his fellow pachyderm by treating the hunter the way zoo elephants treat pumpkins at Halloween.
And then the elephant, a strict herbivore, invited a nearby pride of lions over for a cookout, as it were, and when they were all done cleaning their chins, all that was left of Pete The Poacher was his skull and his pants.
"Indications found at the scene suggested that a pride of lions had devoured the remains leaving only a human skull and a pair of pants," read a statement from the park's managing executive, Glenn Phillips.
"Entering Kruger National Park illegally and on foot is not wise, it holds many dangers and this incident is evidence of that," Phillips warned. "It is very sad to see the daughters of the deceased mourning the loss of their father, and worse still, only being able to recover very little of his remains."
The poet John Donne said, "Any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind."
But I believe it was Andy Griffith who said, "God never told anyone to be stupid."
And I say "almost total," because I have to assume that somewhere out there in the great American population, there is someone who feels pity for a rhino poacher who had a really bad day at the office.
When your office is Kruger National Park in South Africa, it pays to be careful when you're tromping around poaching rhinoceri. People do this because of the desire among some folks to use rhinoceros horn in medical treatment and as status symbols. And because of these lamentable uses, the rhinoceros population is dwindling, another example of man's mistreatment of animals.
But last week, some joker went into the park to bag himself a rhino horn or two, and an elephant took exception. There was a short debate between the man and the elephant, who went to the defense of his fellow pachyderm by treating the hunter the way zoo elephants treat pumpkins at Halloween.
And then the elephant, a strict herbivore, invited a nearby pride of lions over for a cookout, as it were, and when they were all done cleaning their chins, all that was left of Pete The Poacher was his skull and his pants.
"Indications found at the scene suggested that a pride of lions had devoured the remains leaving only a human skull and a pair of pants," read a statement from the park's managing executive, Glenn Phillips.
"Entering Kruger National Park illegally and on foot is not wise, it holds many dangers and this incident is evidence of that," Phillips warned. "It is very sad to see the daughters of the deceased mourning the loss of their father, and worse still, only being able to recover very little of his remains."
The poet John Donne said, "Any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind."
But I believe it was Andy Griffith who said, "God never told anyone to be stupid."
Monday, April 8, 2019
Aw, shoot.
I love reading stories about my fellow Americans, people whose words and deeds come to mind at once any time our follies are being discussed.
And so often, I think of the great Roger Miller, the singer/songwriter of the 60s and 70s who once wrote a song with the words "My ears should burn when fools are talked about."
Time to meet today's fools! From Rogers, Arkansas, here are 50 year old Charles Ferris and 36-year-old Christopher Hicks, both recently under arrest for aggravated assault.
Not that that particular charge stands out in their town, I'm certain, but the circumstances of their arrests merit consideration by the gatekeepers at the Fools Hall Of Fame.
The two are neighbors down there, and a couple of Sundays ago, they were passing the time out on the deck hoisting a few brews when Ferris (left) came up with the idea to put on his bulletproof vest and have Hicks shoot him with a .22 rifle.
We'll hold up right here while you read that last sentence again.
Well sir, Ferris shot Hicks, he did, right in the chest. The shot left a red mark on Ferris's chest and he got madder than a hornet, so he handed the vest to Hicks and...stick with me...shot Hicks in the back, "unloading the clip" - five more rounds - on him, according to the local police.
Hicks was bruised, but that was about it for injuries.
Apparently, Ferris was the brains of this operation, and when police responded to the local hospital about it all, he initially clammed up about the whole deal, but then came up with a story about how he got shot while trying a protect a mystery man he called an "asset." Unfamiliar with pay rates for international bodyguards, he said he was paid $200 to keep the man safe.
Ferris's wife Leslie, who was the one who took Charles to the hospital because his chest hurt because he had his friend shoot him there because he ain't entirely bright, told the police everything, once she figured it all out.
Charles, always quick on his feet, had told police he didn't want his wife to know he had been in a gun fight, even though he asked her to take him to the hospital because he was shot in a gun fight because, well, you know why.
Both men were arrested over aggravated assault, a Class D felony. Both were freed on $5,000 bail, and ordered not to speak to each other.
That will give them extra time to study up for the MENSA exam.
And so often, I think of the great Roger Miller, the singer/songwriter of the 60s and 70s who once wrote a song with the words "My ears should burn when fools are talked about."
Time to meet today's fools! From Rogers, Arkansas, here are 50 year old Charles Ferris and 36-year-old Christopher Hicks, both recently under arrest for aggravated assault.
Not that that particular charge stands out in their town, I'm certain, but the circumstances of their arrests merit consideration by the gatekeepers at the Fools Hall Of Fame.
The two are neighbors down there, and a couple of Sundays ago, they were passing the time out on the deck hoisting a few brews when Ferris (left) came up with the idea to put on his bulletproof vest and have Hicks shoot him with a .22 rifle.
We'll hold up right here while you read that last sentence again.
Well sir, Ferris shot Hicks, he did, right in the chest. The shot left a red mark on Ferris's chest and he got madder than a hornet, so he handed the vest to Hicks and...stick with me...shot Hicks in the back, "unloading the clip" - five more rounds - on him, according to the local police.
Hicks was bruised, but that was about it for injuries.
Apparently, Ferris was the brains of this operation, and when police responded to the local hospital about it all, he initially clammed up about the whole deal, but then came up with a story about how he got shot while trying a protect a mystery man he called an "asset." Unfamiliar with pay rates for international bodyguards, he said he was paid $200 to keep the man safe.
Ferris's wife Leslie, who was the one who took Charles to the hospital because his chest hurt because he had his friend shoot him there because he ain't entirely bright, told the police everything, once she figured it all out.
Charles, always quick on his feet, had told police he didn't want his wife to know he had been in a gun fight, even though he asked her to take him to the hospital because he was shot in a gun fight because, well, you know why.
Both men were arrested over aggravated assault, a Class D felony. Both were freed on $5,000 bail, and ordered not to speak to each other.
That will give them extra time to study up for the MENSA exam.
Sunday, April 7, 2019
Sunday Rerun: Fake News!
It has become the popular thing to do, when someone sees news they don't care to acknowledge as being true, to deny it altogether.
Peggy has a friend who would, when confronted with developments she did not wish to handle, say, "That can't be part of my reality!"
Ah. But it can be, and it was, and "that's all she wrote," as they used to say.
A certain fairly prominent politician (I won't mention his name out of concerns for his well-being) is either clever enough, or has people around him clever enough, to have come up with the mantra "FAKE NEWS!" when he really means "NEWS I DON'T LIKE!"
And buttressed (emphasis on the first four letters) by his example, his acolytes are all over social media screaming that things are fake. The other night, when a departing Twitter employee made his last action, before donning his hat and coat and walking out the door, the shutting down of the presidential tweetstorm, Twitter tweeted that the account had been shut down by human error, before finding that, indeed, mischief had been afoot.
Well, sir, here came the Cult 45'ers, not having seen the update, screaming that this was fake news! Which it was not. Fake news is saying the Dodgers won the World Series this year, that the Civil War was fought over naming rights to Fort Sumter, or saying that "the word, one of the greatest of all terms I've come up with, is 'fake' " when you want to claim that you yourself made up the word "fake".
We've all heard the preposterous stories that people use to wriggle out of jams, and the question, "Who are you gonna believe, me or your lying eyes?" It really does come down to one's willingness to believe certain people in the face of all facts, and that's to be expected from us humans.
But, it's better to say, "We have to change this situation to make it better" when the flood in the basement is halfway up the cellar steps than it is to deny that there's water down there.
Peggy has a friend who would, when confronted with developments she did not wish to handle, say, "That can't be part of my reality!"
Ah. But it can be, and it was, and "that's all she wrote," as they used to say.
A certain fairly prominent politician (I won't mention his name out of concerns for his well-being) is either clever enough, or has people around him clever enough, to have come up with the mantra "FAKE NEWS!" when he really means "NEWS I DON'T LIKE!"
And buttressed (emphasis on the first four letters) by his example, his acolytes are all over social media screaming that things are fake. The other night, when a departing Twitter employee made his last action, before donning his hat and coat and walking out the door, the shutting down of the presidential tweetstorm, Twitter tweeted that the account had been shut down by human error, before finding that, indeed, mischief had been afoot.
Well, sir, here came the Cult 45'ers, not having seen the update, screaming that this was fake news! Which it was not. Fake news is saying the Dodgers won the World Series this year, that the Civil War was fought over naming rights to Fort Sumter, or saying that "the word, one of the greatest of all terms I've come up with, is 'fake' " when you want to claim that you yourself made up the word "fake". We've all heard the preposterous stories that people use to wriggle out of jams, and the question, "Who are you gonna believe, me or your lying eyes?" It really does come down to one's willingness to believe certain people in the face of all facts, and that's to be expected from us humans.
But, it's better to say, "We have to change this situation to make it better" when the flood in the basement is halfway up the cellar steps than it is to deny that there's water down there.
Saturday, April 6, 2019
The Saturday Picture Show, April 6, 2019
Friday, April 5, 2019
Stretching the loaf
My longtime love affair with Subway subs is sputtering to an end, what with having a WaWa over on Joppa Rd and another coming to Perry Hall along with a Steak 'n' Shake and a carwash, over by the library.
There is so much to live for!
I think that the world began to fall apart when someone decided that a 2 x 4 did not need to be 2 inches by 4 inches. Lumber merchants call "2x4" the "nominal" size in the same way that I call a Junior Whopper a "nominal" New York strip steak.
But the people at Subway apparently saw how they shave the wood, if you will, and decided that the footlong sub they sell did not need to be a foot long.
So, a group of people filed suit against the sandwich giant, asking that they a) make the sub a full 12" or b) stop saying that it is.
I love it when people throw wrenches into the gears of crooked commerce.
Now, in a landmark decision hailed as the greatest since United States v. Nixon, in which it was ruled that Nixon was, after all, "a crook," a settlement has been reached, and Subway will have to take steps over the next four years to make certain its rolls reach a full 12 inches. potential.
In what will be a sure laugh-getter, your neighborhood Subway will have to install a "measuring device" for the bread. The amazing smell that wafts into your old olfactory comes from the bread baking in Subway shops. They get the dough in frozen logs that they bake right in front of your nose. It will be the job of the newest person on the staff, probably, to stretch the thawed loaves to be a foot in length.
Subway will have to shell out $520,000 in attorney fees, plus $500 each to the 10 people who filed the lawsuit. The checks will be small because, as the lawyer for one of the plaintiffs said, "It was difficult to prove monetary damages, because everybody ate the evidence."
Those words will soon be chiseled in stone above the front door to the Supreme Court cafeteria.
There is so much to live for!
I think that the world began to fall apart when someone decided that a 2 x 4 did not need to be 2 inches by 4 inches. Lumber merchants call "2x4" the "nominal" size in the same way that I call a Junior Whopper a "nominal" New York strip steak.
But the people at Subway apparently saw how they shave the wood, if you will, and decided that the footlong sub they sell did not need to be a foot long.
So, a group of people filed suit against the sandwich giant, asking that they a) make the sub a full 12" or b) stop saying that it is.
I love it when people throw wrenches into the gears of crooked commerce.
Now, in a landmark decision hailed as the greatest since United States v. Nixon, in which it was ruled that Nixon was, after all, "a crook," a settlement has been reached, and Subway will have to take steps over the next four years to make certain its rolls reach a full 12 inches. potential.
Subway will have to shell out $520,000 in attorney fees, plus $500 each to the 10 people who filed the lawsuit. The checks will be small because, as the lawyer for one of the plaintiffs said, "It was difficult to prove monetary damages, because everybody ate the evidence."
Those words will soon be chiseled in stone above the front door to the Supreme Court cafeteria.
Thursday, April 4, 2019
..for your thoughts
Every so often, you'll hear some politician claiming that we can save money, balance the budget, set aside enough for the future to send every child to college for free, and eradicate disease and suffering in our time if we just stop making pennies.
Yes, it's true, each of the tiny pictures of Abe Lincoln in your pocket cost the government more than a penny to make, but so what? The government has plenty of money, because everyone pays their taxes.
And then there are the plans to round everything up or down, so like if your purchase comes to $14.78 cents, you pay $14.80, but if the cash register total is $59.21, you walk away just paying $59.20. You can bet that if I buy something for 99 cents and hand you a buck, I will stand there politely waiting for my penny change.
I prefer accuracy in money like I prefer it in time or temperature. It's 9:13 AM as I write this, not "about quarter after nine." And outside, the air temperature stands at 39°, not "about 40 degrees."
However, there are pennies worth more than pennies. Just ask Don Lutes, Jr.
Don's a Massachusetts guy who, in 1947, got a certain penny in change when he bought his lunch at school. During World War II, the US started making pennies out of steel with a zinc coating, instead of copper, which was needed for the war effort.
But someone goofed at the mint one day and made some pennies out of bronze. Officials snagged up most of them, but somehow, 20 bronze pennies got into circulation, and now they bring top dollar at auction.
Lutes Jr. held onto his penny all his life, which ended last fall. At the time he found the coin in his change, the rumor was that Henry Ford was willing to trade a car in exchange for one, but that rumor was just a...rumor. Now a descendant of Lutes will cash in.
The coin was authenticated in 1958 by expert Walter Breen of the New England Numismatic Association.
"While a number of other examples have surfaced over the years, no other specimen has been celebrated and written about as much as this remarkable coin," Heritage Auctions said. "This piece inspires a special pride of ownership not equaled by any other example. This lot represents a true 'once in a lifetime' opportunity."
And all Lutes would have gotten for it in 1947 was a Ford, as opposed to what his heir will drive away in very soon. Opening bids in the auction, handled by Heritage Auctions, for Lutes's lucky penny will be in the $100,000 range. In 2010, someone sold one of them for $1.7 million.
That will buy a lot of Fords for just one Lincoln.
Yes, it's true, each of the tiny pictures of Abe Lincoln in your pocket cost the government more than a penny to make, but so what? The government has plenty of money, because everyone pays their taxes.
And then there are the plans to round everything up or down, so like if your purchase comes to $14.78 cents, you pay $14.80, but if the cash register total is $59.21, you walk away just paying $59.20. You can bet that if I buy something for 99 cents and hand you a buck, I will stand there politely waiting for my penny change.
I prefer accuracy in money like I prefer it in time or temperature. It's 9:13 AM as I write this, not "about quarter after nine." And outside, the air temperature stands at 39°, not "about 40 degrees."
However, there are pennies worth more than pennies. Just ask Don Lutes, Jr.
Don's a Massachusetts guy who, in 1947, got a certain penny in change when he bought his lunch at school. During World War II, the US started making pennies out of steel with a zinc coating, instead of copper, which was needed for the war effort.
But someone goofed at the mint one day and made some pennies out of bronze. Officials snagged up most of them, but somehow, 20 bronze pennies got into circulation, and now they bring top dollar at auction.
Lutes Jr. held onto his penny all his life, which ended last fall. At the time he found the coin in his change, the rumor was that Henry Ford was willing to trade a car in exchange for one, but that rumor was just a...rumor. Now a descendant of Lutes will cash in.
The coin was authenticated in 1958 by expert Walter Breen of the New England Numismatic Association.
"While a number of other examples have surfaced over the years, no other specimen has been celebrated and written about as much as this remarkable coin," Heritage Auctions said. "This piece inspires a special pride of ownership not equaled by any other example. This lot represents a true 'once in a lifetime' opportunity."
And all Lutes would have gotten for it in 1947 was a Ford, as opposed to what his heir will drive away in very soon. Opening bids in the auction, handled by Heritage Auctions, for Lutes's lucky penny will be in the $100,000 range. In 2010, someone sold one of them for $1.7 million.
That will buy a lot of Fords for just one Lincoln.
Wednesday, April 3, 2019
Top Cop Goes Crooked
The story as reported by the Baltimore SUN:
Former Baltimore Police Commissioner Darryl De Sousa was sentenced Friday to 10 months in federal prison, followed by one year of supervised release, after pleading guilty to failing to file federal tax returns over three years.
In court, prosecutors called De Sousa, 54, a tax cheat for inflating and falsifying deductions. De Sousa told Judge Catherine C. Blake he was caring for aging parents and should have gotten better tax preparation advice, saying, "I am embarrassed, saddened and disappointed. I have lost it all."
As De Sousa heads off to Club Fed, let's remember the highlights of his career as Baltimore's top cop. Let's see: he was appointed on February 28 of last year, and it wasn't until May 11 that the charges came out about failing to pay his taxes, forcing his resignation on May 15.
The IRS sent a letter to the police in 2015, advising them that De Sousa was claiming too many allowances, and the police, accordingly, adjusted his withholding.
So the question comes up as to why, when Mayor Catherine Pugh forced the former commissioner to resign because people keep shooting each other in the city, she did not see that information when she was going over the candidates for a new commish?
Mayor Pugh has said that the letter the IRS wrote to the PD in December 2015 "was not in the files we saw" when she and her team evaluated De Sousa's candidacy.
So, maybe she needs to talk to the Human Resources people in her office, and the police HR people too.
Of course, the mayor has her own problems, what with being held up for public opprobrium over the children's books she wrote and made half a million dollars from the University of Maryland Medical System (which is just about to apply to raise their fees and rates, in the most ill-timed request since Pee Wee Herman asked someone if he could sit behind them in a movie theater.)
And any time a public official gets in trouble and goes to trial, I always look for a ridiculous statement. De Sousa made his by asking the judge for leniency on the grounds that he was too busy being an important policeman to follow the law. And of course, the time-honored "I was busy caring for aging parents" excuse, always a good one.
Darryl - I will call you by that name, now that you have lost the honor of being called "Commissioner" or even "Officer," until you are issued a prison number - my family and I managed to bury both of my parents AND still paid our taxes AND had jobs.
It CAN be done, if you want to do it. Think about that while you're in stir.
Then come back to the city you disgraced and do something good.
Former Baltimore Police Commissioner Darryl De Sousa was sentenced Friday to 10 months in federal prison, followed by one year of supervised release, after pleading guilty to failing to file federal tax returns over three years.
In court, prosecutors called De Sousa, 54, a tax cheat for inflating and falsifying deductions. De Sousa told Judge Catherine C. Blake he was caring for aging parents and should have gotten better tax preparation advice, saying, "I am embarrassed, saddened and disappointed. I have lost it all."
As De Sousa heads off to Club Fed, let's remember the highlights of his career as Baltimore's top cop. Let's see: he was appointed on February 28 of last year, and it wasn't until May 11 that the charges came out about failing to pay his taxes, forcing his resignation on May 15.
The IRS sent a letter to the police in 2015, advising them that De Sousa was claiming too many allowances, and the police, accordingly, adjusted his withholding.
So the question comes up as to why, when Mayor Catherine Pugh forced the former commissioner to resign because people keep shooting each other in the city, she did not see that information when she was going over the candidates for a new commish?
Mayor Pugh has said that the letter the IRS wrote to the PD in December 2015 "was not in the files we saw" when she and her team evaluated De Sousa's candidacy.
So, maybe she needs to talk to the Human Resources people in her office, and the police HR people too.
Of course, the mayor has her own problems, what with being held up for public opprobrium over the children's books she wrote and made half a million dollars from the University of Maryland Medical System (which is just about to apply to raise their fees and rates, in the most ill-timed request since Pee Wee Herman asked someone if he could sit behind them in a movie theater.)
And any time a public official gets in trouble and goes to trial, I always look for a ridiculous statement. De Sousa made his by asking the judge for leniency on the grounds that he was too busy being an important policeman to follow the law. And of course, the time-honored "I was busy caring for aging parents" excuse, always a good one.
Darryl - I will call you by that name, now that you have lost the honor of being called "Commissioner" or even "Officer," until you are issued a prison number - my family and I managed to bury both of my parents AND still paid our taxes AND had jobs.
It CAN be done, if you want to do it. Think about that while you're in stir.
Then come back to the city you disgraced and do something good.
Tuesday, April 2, 2019
Phone for you!
I love to read the Washington Post newspaper, because they gave us Woodward and Bernstein and Ben Bradlee and, I suppose, Garfield comics. I guess that I've seen Garfield a few times in my day. He loves lasagna or something, I don't know. While I have yet to laugh once at the antics of the cranky feline, I know many people love him enough to have had a Garfield phone in their house. Yes, kids, there used to be phones in houses connected to the wall, and you couldn't roam the house or the mall talking on it. And often, instead of a phone looking like a phone, people chose to talk into a phone that looked like Garfield or Mickey Mouse or Spiro Agnew or other cartoon characters from the past.
So, according to an article in the Post, people residing in beach areas of northwestern France have found pieces of yellow plastic Garfield phones washing up around their dunes.
I mean, for real, it's been going on since the 80s, and the beach cleaners would pick up his face or his bulgy eyes or a yellow cord. Many inventive French people waited until they collected all the parts to make their own sandy Garphone, I'm sure.
Claire Simonin-Le Meur is president of the environmental group Ar Viltansoù, and she told Post that she has spent years picking up the phone parts, not because she liked the oddly-hued cat, but because she is concerned about the environmental damage the ocean could suffer from all that plastic.
For years, they feared that perhaps a shipping container, or even an entire ship, had sunk to the bottom of the Atlantic, and that an endless stream of ugly yellow catphones would continue to be served up from Davy Jones's locker.
But the big break in the case came earlier this year when Simonin-Le Meur met a local farmer, René Morvan.
She was on the beach picking up Garfparts. He was walking along speaking French, part of which involved him asking her if she were "looking for Garfield."
(This is the point where the story sounds like a spy movie, with Meryl Streep and Raphael Fiennes.)
“Come with me,” the man told her. “I can show you.”
Morvan wove a story involving him and his brother finding a metal shipping container wedged into a cliff by the beach, a container filled with the phones.
Morvan took Simonin-Le Meur to the cliff, and showed her that when the tide came in, the container would be awash with seawater, which would disgorge its load of cheap phones as the tide went out.
It turns out that the “Téléphone Garfield” is now the symbol for oceanic junk all over the seven seas. Most of the original cargo is gone from the container, but the whole sorry episode demonstrates the problem of worldwide pollution.
The French environmentalists hope that having a cartoon figure will help interest children in the movement for a cleaner earth.
It might work! In America, a cartoon camel got children interested in smoking cigarettes.
So, according to an article in the Post, people residing in beach areas of northwestern France have found pieces of yellow plastic Garfield phones washing up around their dunes.
I mean, for real, it's been going on since the 80s, and the beach cleaners would pick up his face or his bulgy eyes or a yellow cord. Many inventive French people waited until they collected all the parts to make their own sandy Garphone, I'm sure.
Claire Simonin-Le Meur is president of the environmental group Ar Viltansoù, and she told Post that she has spent years picking up the phone parts, not because she liked the oddly-hued cat, but because she is concerned about the environmental damage the ocean could suffer from all that plastic.
For years, they feared that perhaps a shipping container, or even an entire ship, had sunk to the bottom of the Atlantic, and that an endless stream of ugly yellow catphones would continue to be served up from Davy Jones's locker.
But the big break in the case came earlier this year when Simonin-Le Meur met a local farmer, René Morvan.
She was on the beach picking up Garfparts. He was walking along speaking French, part of which involved him asking her if she were "looking for Garfield."
(This is the point where the story sounds like a spy movie, with Meryl Streep and Raphael Fiennes.)
“Come with me,” the man told her. “I can show you.”
Morvan wove a story involving him and his brother finding a metal shipping container wedged into a cliff by the beach, a container filled with the phones.
Morvan took Simonin-Le Meur to the cliff, and showed her that when the tide came in, the container would be awash with seawater, which would disgorge its load of cheap phones as the tide went out.
It turns out that the “Téléphone Garfield” is now the symbol for oceanic junk all over the seven seas. Most of the original cargo is gone from the container, but the whole sorry episode demonstrates the problem of worldwide pollution.
The French environmentalists hope that having a cartoon figure will help interest children in the movement for a cleaner earth.It might work! In America, a cartoon camel got children interested in smoking cigarettes.
Monday, April 1, 2019
"4/1" 1
Today's the day when Burger King sold Left-Handed Whoppers (1998) and Taco Bell got everyone all worked up by claiming that they had bought the Liberty Bell, with plans to rename that national treasure "The Taco Bell Liberty Bell" (1996).
A great many "Sports Illustrated" readers were duped on this day in 1985, when that magazine, always known for accuracy and dependable reporting, claimed that the New York Mets had signed a rookie pitcher named Sidd Finch, and that young Finch was capable of throwing a baseball 168 miles per hour. The backstory, as supplied by master storyteller (and inveterate practical joker) George Plimpton, was that Finch, raised in an English orphanage, had traveled to Tibet to learn "yogic mastery of mind-body" under "the great poet-saint Lama Milaraspa", and that's why he could toss that ball with such speed and accuracy.
Like all great pranks, it took great skill to pull that one off, and it was a few days before most people realized that Finch was a fake, perhaps the most elaborate since Piltdown Man.
And it took 41 years for people to realize they had been fooled by Piltdown Man, although some men seem to fool people every single day. What happened was, 1912 was a very boring year, except for that Titanic thing and the opening of Fenway Park, so some paleoanthropologists (always a fun-loving bunch) decided to throw some old skulls, a jawbone, more skull fragments, a set of teeth, and primitive tools from an area called Piltdown in England into an empty ginger ale carton and tell the rubes that these were fossils, the remains of an early human previously undiscovered.
Not until 1953 was it proven that Piltdown Man was a fakeroo, since he had the jaw and some teeth of an orangutan crammed into the cranium of a modern man.
This makes the Piltdown Man skullduggery, if you will, the longest-running hoax perpetrated on people, even longer than trickle-down economics, which is, admittedly, still fooling them since the 1980s.
That's the economic theory that states that giving the rich more money will be good for the poor, on the grounds that if you pile so much food onto the roofs of rich people's cars, a certain amount of it will fall off on their way to Richville, and the poor can forage for it happily.
Happy April Fool's Day!
A great many "Sports Illustrated" readers were duped on this day in 1985, when that magazine, always known for accuracy and dependable reporting, claimed that the New York Mets had signed a rookie pitcher named Sidd Finch, and that young Finch was capable of throwing a baseball 168 miles per hour. The backstory, as supplied by master storyteller (and inveterate practical joker) George Plimpton, was that Finch, raised in an English orphanage, had traveled to Tibet to learn "yogic mastery of mind-body" under "the great poet-saint Lama Milaraspa", and that's why he could toss that ball with such speed and accuracy.
Like all great pranks, it took great skill to pull that one off, and it was a few days before most people realized that Finch was a fake, perhaps the most elaborate since Piltdown Man.
 |
| The Piltdown composite skull was used as a stand-in for Gary Busey later. |
Not until 1953 was it proven that Piltdown Man was a fakeroo, since he had the jaw and some teeth of an orangutan crammed into the cranium of a modern man.
This makes the Piltdown Man skullduggery, if you will, the longest-running hoax perpetrated on people, even longer than trickle-down economics, which is, admittedly, still fooling them since the 1980s.
That's the economic theory that states that giving the rich more money will be good for the poor, on the grounds that if you pile so much food onto the roofs of rich people's cars, a certain amount of it will fall off on their way to Richville, and the poor can forage for it happily.
Happy April Fool's Day!
Sunday, March 31, 2019
Sunday Rerun: Hu said coffee is good for you?
Everyone's got a deal, and here is mine: It's just like the weather...if you hear something is bad for you, wait ten minutes and someone else will come along and tell you it's ok.
Red meat bad! No, red meat is ok as long as you don't grill it! Wait a while; red meat is ok but chicken is bad and eggs are worse! Undercooked pork used to be bad and we were told we'd get lockjaw, and maybe some of us should have, but trichinosis turned out to be less of a threat to us than slipping on banana peels, which was a staple of cartoon fun, but you never saw it happen to anyone in real life.
And now, for those who were told that coffee and its caffeine would send you to the Pearly Gates Starbucks way too soon, you can sip easily. Harvard University did a study and they say that coffee drinkers are likely to live longer. They followed 200,000 java junkies for almost 30 years and find that those who guzzled 3 to 5 cups per day had a lower mortality rate - up to 15 percent lower! - than those who made do with Postum or water or whatever.
Frank Hu, M.D., Ph.D., M.P.H, is the author of the study, and he says the reason for this kick in the years is a powerful antioxidant called chlorogenic acid, which is super abundant in coffee.
Dr Hu also says that those who average swallowing half a Big Box of Joe from Dunkin Donuts are 37 percent less likely to die from a neurodegenerative disease such Parkinson's, and 36 percent less likely to die from suicide, compared to nondrinkers.
Insert obvious joke about people who can't get their coffee fix ending their lives way too soon...
Dopamine seems to be the key here...all that coffee produces a ton of dopamine for you, and a large feature of Parkinson's is a lower level of dopamine, the chemical that plays a large part in both animal and plant lives. And plenty of dopamine means plenty of nerve transmitters in your brain, and that produces an antidepressant effect. And that's a good thing.
Dr Hu did not answer the puzzling question about what would happen to a person who drinks coffee while listening to Adele. For some, that's really having it all!
Red meat bad! No, red meat is ok as long as you don't grill it! Wait a while; red meat is ok but chicken is bad and eggs are worse! Undercooked pork used to be bad and we were told we'd get lockjaw, and maybe some of us should have, but trichinosis turned out to be less of a threat to us than slipping on banana peels, which was a staple of cartoon fun, but you never saw it happen to anyone in real life.
And now, for those who were told that coffee and its caffeine would send you to the Pearly Gates Starbucks way too soon, you can sip easily. Harvard University did a study and they say that coffee drinkers are likely to live longer. They followed 200,000 java junkies for almost 30 years and find that those who guzzled 3 to 5 cups per day had a lower mortality rate - up to 15 percent lower! - than those who made do with Postum or water or whatever.
Frank Hu, M.D., Ph.D., M.P.H, is the author of the study, and he says the reason for this kick in the years is a powerful antioxidant called chlorogenic acid, which is super abundant in coffee.
Dr Hu also says that those who average swallowing half a Big Box of Joe from Dunkin Donuts are 37 percent less likely to die from a neurodegenerative disease such Parkinson's, and 36 percent less likely to die from suicide, compared to nondrinkers.Insert obvious joke about people who can't get their coffee fix ending their lives way too soon...
Dopamine seems to be the key here...all that coffee produces a ton of dopamine for you, and a large feature of Parkinson's is a lower level of dopamine, the chemical that plays a large part in both animal and plant lives. And plenty of dopamine means plenty of nerve transmitters in your brain, and that produces an antidepressant effect. And that's a good thing.
Dr Hu did not answer the puzzling question about what would happen to a person who drinks coffee while listening to Adele. For some, that's really having it all!
Saturday, March 30, 2019
The Saturday Picture Show, March 30, 2019
Here's my reminder that no matter how busy your day is, it's always good to carve out a little time to treat yourself to something you enjoy. It doesn't have to be cake! It could be reading a good book, or even something John Grisham wrote. Just take care of yourself.
This is the Clipper Stad Amsterdam, come to visit Baltimore from the Netherlands. They offer free deck tours today from 10AM – 3PM at the Inner Harbor’s West Wall.
Friday, March 29, 2019
They dig dinosaurs
Will Rogers once said, "Everyone is ignorant, just on different topics." What the old Oklahoma cowboy was saying there was that everyone has gaps in their learning. I happen to know a little kid whose knowledge of dinosaurs far eclipses mine.
As a matter of fact, his knowledge of eclipses, uh, surpasses mine.
I don't know Jack about dinosaurs, and that's never more apparent than when someone mentions the world's largest T-Rex skeleton showing up in Canada the other day. My first thought went to the British glam band fronted by Marc Bolan, who gave the world songs like "Jeepster," "Bang A Gong," "Hot Love," "Telegram Sam," and the lyrical "There Was A Time/Raw Ramp/Electric Boogie."
I don't get tattoos, only because doing so would make me unable to donate blood for a year (and I love those Red Cross pretzels!) but if I did etch words on my skin, surely these T-Rex lyrics would be among them:
But the world's largest T-Rex did show up the other day, having waited for his ride since 68,000,000 years ago, so we might as well have him over for dinner. Scientists figure that, fully fleshed out, this dude weighed in at 19,500 pounds, which is about enough to qualify him for his own TV show.
Paleontologists have nicknamed him "Scotty," because they passed around a nice bottle of scotch while they looked him over.
At length, they discovered a Bedrock legal ID in his pocket that indicates he lived to be 28 or so, which (they say) is far above the average lifespan of a T-Rex.
Marc Bolan himself, leader of the T-Rex band, lived to be almost 30, losing his life in a car wreck in September, 1977...a month after Elvis died, and a month before Bing Crosby bought the farm.
That was a rough time for my music, with three of my favorites dying in a row, but people call me a dinosaur, so...
As a matter of fact, his knowledge of eclipses, uh, surpasses mine.
I don't know Jack about dinosaurs, and that's never more apparent than when someone mentions the world's largest T-Rex skeleton showing up in Canada the other day. My first thought went to the British glam band fronted by Marc Bolan, who gave the world songs like "Jeepster," "Bang A Gong," "Hot Love," "Telegram Sam," and the lyrical "There Was A Time/Raw Ramp/Electric Boogie."
I don't get tattoos, only because doing so would make me unable to donate blood for a year (and I love those Red Cross pretzels!) but if I did etch words on my skin, surely these T-Rex lyrics would be among them:
There was a time everything was fineI don't think that anyone ever encapsulated the difference between crusty old timers and wistful youth quite so well.
You could drink all the day
Like it was wine
And all the children
They put flowers in their hair
And all the grown-ups
They put daggers there instead.
But the world's largest T-Rex did show up the other day, having waited for his ride since 68,000,000 years ago, so we might as well have him over for dinner. Scientists figure that, fully fleshed out, this dude weighed in at 19,500 pounds, which is about enough to qualify him for his own TV show.
Paleontologists have nicknamed him "Scotty," because they passed around a nice bottle of scotch while they looked him over.
At length, they discovered a Bedrock legal ID in his pocket that indicates he lived to be 28 or so, which (they say) is far above the average lifespan of a T-Rex.
Marc Bolan himself, leader of the T-Rex band, lived to be almost 30, losing his life in a car wreck in September, 1977...a month after Elvis died, and a month before Bing Crosby bought the farm.
That was a rough time for my music, with three of my favorites dying in a row, but people call me a dinosaur, so...
Thursday, March 28, 2019
The Legend of Chief Moose
Back in 2002, the Washington DC area and its suburbs in Maryland were held in terror by the "Beltway Snipers," John Allen Muhammad, 41, and Lee Boyd Malvo, then 17.
For reasons best known to themselves, they went on a shooting spree, cruising the DC Beltway in a blue 1990 Chevrolet Caprice. All told, they killed 17 people and wounded 10 more.
Muhammad was sentenced to death, and eventually executed in 2009, while Malvo, as a juvenile, was given six consecutive life sentences without parole.
In the meantime came the case of Miller v. Alabama (2012), in which the US Supreme Court decided that mandatory life-sentence punishments for juveniles are unconstitutional. That decision led to Malvo's sentence being overturned for re-sentencing. Most scholars feel that Malvo will still get a life sentence in Virginia, besides which, he also stands convicted in Maryland, sentenced to six life terms, and that ruling hasn't even been challenged yet. Safe to say, between his Virginia sentences and those from Maryland, Malvo will be behind bars for quite some time.
But the recent stories on the news about Malvo brought back a central figure in the whole case, which, if you weren't around here at the time, was quite a terrifying ordeal. Since the snipers were shooting randomly at people, it got to a point where people filling their cars with gas would start the pump flowing, and then dart back into the safety of their vehicle, praying not to be shot. It was awful.
But the calming hand of the cop in charge, the chief of the Montgomery County, Maryland, Police Department, Charles Moose, was credited with both coordinating the investigation and keeping the public from chaos. Chief Moose and his people worked with the US Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives (ATF), the FBI, the U.S. Secret Service, the Virginia Department of Transportation, and the police in the many other jurisdictions where Muhammad and Malvo shot people, but to this day, when you think back to those scary days, you think of the calm demeanor of Chief Moose (above).
Life took interesting turns for the chief after the case was wrapped up, however. In June of 2003, just months after the arrests of the two killers, Moose resigned from the Montgomery County PD after county officials told him his interests were conflicted by participating in the writing of a book about the case. That book, Three Weeks in October: The Manhunt for the Serial Sniper, was published in October, 2003 and then became a TV movie. Charles S. "Roc" Dutton played Moose.
There were complaints from prosecutors about Moose's publicity tour, with tv appearances, promoting the book, but the prosecution had no trouble getting convictions.
Moose then left for Hawaii, entered the training academy of the Honolulu Police, and served there as an officer for six years before retiring to Florida.
It will be interesting to see if Malvo's legal team files for an appeal in Maryland, but that was the way it happened 17 years ago. It seems a lot longer somehow.
For reasons best known to themselves, they went on a shooting spree, cruising the DC Beltway in a blue 1990 Chevrolet Caprice. All told, they killed 17 people and wounded 10 more.
Muhammad was sentenced to death, and eventually executed in 2009, while Malvo, as a juvenile, was given six consecutive life sentences without parole.
In the meantime came the case of Miller v. Alabama (2012), in which the US Supreme Court decided that mandatory life-sentence punishments for juveniles are unconstitutional. That decision led to Malvo's sentence being overturned for re-sentencing. Most scholars feel that Malvo will still get a life sentence in Virginia, besides which, he also stands convicted in Maryland, sentenced to six life terms, and that ruling hasn't even been challenged yet. Safe to say, between his Virginia sentences and those from Maryland, Malvo will be behind bars for quite some time.
But the recent stories on the news about Malvo brought back a central figure in the whole case, which, if you weren't around here at the time, was quite a terrifying ordeal. Since the snipers were shooting randomly at people, it got to a point where people filling their cars with gas would start the pump flowing, and then dart back into the safety of their vehicle, praying not to be shot. It was awful.
But the calming hand of the cop in charge, the chief of the Montgomery County, Maryland, Police Department, Charles Moose, was credited with both coordinating the investigation and keeping the public from chaos. Chief Moose and his people worked with the US Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives (ATF), the FBI, the U.S. Secret Service, the Virginia Department of Transportation, and the police in the many other jurisdictions where Muhammad and Malvo shot people, but to this day, when you think back to those scary days, you think of the calm demeanor of Chief Moose (above).
Life took interesting turns for the chief after the case was wrapped up, however. In June of 2003, just months after the arrests of the two killers, Moose resigned from the Montgomery County PD after county officials told him his interests were conflicted by participating in the writing of a book about the case. That book, Three Weeks in October: The Manhunt for the Serial Sniper, was published in October, 2003 and then became a TV movie. Charles S. "Roc" Dutton played Moose.
There were complaints from prosecutors about Moose's publicity tour, with tv appearances, promoting the book, but the prosecution had no trouble getting convictions.
Moose then left for Hawaii, entered the training academy of the Honolulu Police, and served there as an officer for six years before retiring to Florida.
It will be interesting to see if Malvo's legal team files for an appeal in Maryland, but that was the way it happened 17 years ago. It seems a lot longer somehow.
Wednesday, March 27, 2019
More about Streisand (and this should be all I ever say about her)
Have you ever heard of The Streisand Effect?
Let me tell you about it with an example.
Recently, Congressman Devin Nunes (R,CA) got himself all up in a hissy because some people satirized him by creating a fake Twitter page under the name "Devin Nunes' Cow."
They could tell that I had nothing to do with this spoof, because I would have insisted that the proper name would be "Devin Nunes's Cow."
Nunes's family owns a cattle ranch; that's where the beef got started here. And the people who wrote the fake tweets were harsh on Nunes, who once sponsored a bill in Congress to cut down on frivolous lawsuits.
Always one for the ironic, he titled it the Discouraging Frivolous Lawsuits Act.
And now he has filed lawsuits against the people who created the fakery, and that brought even more attention to them (and negative attention to the congressman, who came off looking like a bit of a sorehead in the whole thing.)
So what does this have to do with diva Barbara? Well, in 2003, she made a big freakin' deal about not wanting anyone to take pictures of her palatial oceanside mansion in Malibu, CA.
Instead of being happy that people who don't get to live like Queen Tut wanted to see her digs so they would be a little happier in their meager huts, she tried to stop people from flying over the joint, and since she is not a national monument, the only thing that came from all this is, she got more attention drawn to the place, and hundreds and hundreds of pictures taken of it.
The Streisand effect is defined as "a phenomenon whereby an attempt to hide, remove, or censor a piece of information has the unintended consequence of publicizing the information more widely, usually facilitated by the internet. It is an example of psychological reactance, wherein once people are aware that some information is being kept from them, their motivation to access and spread it is increased."
Hey Barb - enjoy the attention! And you can come over and take a picture of my house any time! It's a lot like yours (above) in that it has a roof and a floor and cable tv!
Let me tell you about it with an example.
Recently, Congressman Devin Nunes (R,CA) got himself all up in a hissy because some people satirized him by creating a fake Twitter page under the name "Devin Nunes' Cow."
They could tell that I had nothing to do with this spoof, because I would have insisted that the proper name would be "Devin Nunes's Cow."
Nunes's family owns a cattle ranch; that's where the beef got started here. And the people who wrote the fake tweets were harsh on Nunes, who once sponsored a bill in Congress to cut down on frivolous lawsuits.
Always one for the ironic, he titled it the Discouraging Frivolous Lawsuits Act.
And now he has filed lawsuits against the people who created the fakery, and that brought even more attention to them (and negative attention to the congressman, who came off looking like a bit of a sorehead in the whole thing.)
So what does this have to do with diva Barbara? Well, in 2003, she made a big freakin' deal about not wanting anyone to take pictures of her palatial oceanside mansion in Malibu, CA.
Instead of being happy that people who don't get to live like Queen Tut wanted to see her digs so they would be a little happier in their meager huts, she tried to stop people from flying over the joint, and since she is not a national monument, the only thing that came from all this is, she got more attention drawn to the place, and hundreds and hundreds of pictures taken of it.
The Streisand effect is defined as "a phenomenon whereby an attempt to hide, remove, or censor a piece of information has the unintended consequence of publicizing the information more widely, usually facilitated by the internet. It is an example of psychological reactance, wherein once people are aware that some information is being kept from them, their motivation to access and spread it is increased."
Hey Barb - enjoy the attention! And you can come over and take a picture of my house any time! It's a lot like yours (above) in that it has a roof and a floor and cable tv!
Tuesday, March 26, 2019
People, people who need intelligence
I honestly cannot remember the last time there were two reasons to talk about Barbra Streisand, but she's all over the news these days.
We start with this: The found legendary singer and actress found herself in deep, uh, water for saying that Wade Robson and James Safechuck — the two men who were in the Michael Jackson documentaty “Leaving Neverland" — “were thrilled to be there” and that what allegedly happened to them “didn’t kill them."
That's right, Babs. Hey look, guys, get up and brush yourself off. You had a good time with old Michael, so don't come crying now, said Streisand.
You know how we say some people should get out more? Maybe she should stay in more, and keep her kisser closed.
Parents who are seeking to guide their children into highly remunerative fields of employment that do not require much work should look into the widening field of Celebrity Apology Writing! Some master of that craft penned this to go out over Babs's signature:
“I am profoundly sorry for any pain or misunderstanding I caused by not choosing my words more carefully about Michael Jackson and his victims,” she wrote.
“I didn’t mean to dismiss the trauma these boys experienced in any way,” she wrote. “Like all survivors of sexual assault, they will have to carry this for the rest of their lives. I feel deep remorse and I hope that James and Wade know that I truly respect and admire them for speaking their truth.”
I'm going to follow your lead, and choose my words very carefully, Barbra. You showed your, let's say, heart, the first time, so mopping up after your spilled your thoughts is too little, too late.
More on this perpetual embarrassment tomorrow, and I promise not to mention the time she cloned her dog.
We start with this: The found legendary singer and actress found herself in deep, uh, water for saying that Wade Robson and James Safechuck — the two men who were in the Michael Jackson documentaty “Leaving Neverland" — “were thrilled to be there” and that what allegedly happened to them “didn’t kill them."
That's right, Babs. Hey look, guys, get up and brush yourself off. You had a good time with old Michael, so don't come crying now, said Streisand.
You know how we say some people should get out more? Maybe she should stay in more, and keep her kisser closed.
Parents who are seeking to guide their children into highly remunerative fields of employment that do not require much work should look into the widening field of Celebrity Apology Writing! Some master of that craft penned this to go out over Babs's signature:
“I am profoundly sorry for any pain or misunderstanding I caused by not choosing my words more carefully about Michael Jackson and his victims,” she wrote.
“I didn’t mean to dismiss the trauma these boys experienced in any way,” she wrote. “Like all survivors of sexual assault, they will have to carry this for the rest of their lives. I feel deep remorse and I hope that James and Wade know that I truly respect and admire them for speaking their truth.”
I'm going to follow your lead, and choose my words very carefully, Barbra. You showed your, let's say, heart, the first time, so mopping up after your spilled your thoughts is too little, too late.
More on this perpetual embarrassment tomorrow, and I promise not to mention the time she cloned her dog.
Monday, March 25, 2019
Pistol-packin' papa
Today's Riddle:
What's 74, has two legs and two arms and one handgun, and works as a substitute teacher in Alabama?
If you answered "Henry Rex Weaver," you win! You must watch WBRC-TV, or read The Cullman Times, because they are reporting on a little fracas involving old Henry Rex last week.
Seems this "good guy with a gun" was, against all logic and sense, employed as a substitute teacher in a first-grade classroom at Blountsville Elementary School on Friday. Weaver is 74, for crying out loud, hardly up to the pace of a room full of 6-year-olds.
But no one knew he had the old persuader - the peacemaker - the gat, the bulky, the deuce-deuce, the rooty tooty point and shooty, the roscoe, in his pants.
This superannuated fool (above) carried a gun in his pocket as he substituted for the regular teacher, and the gun went off, slightly injuring one child.
Blount County Sheriff Mark Moon says Weaver, of Blountsville, was taken off campus and into custody. Weaver was taken to the Blount County Jail and has been charged with possession of a deadly weapon on school grounds, aggravated assault, and reckless endangerment.
"(The sound) alerted administrators,’’ Moon said. “He was detained until we could get him in our jail.”
In 2016, a former teacher at that same school, Bobbie Holaway, 60, was charged with shooting her husband to death.
Yeah buddy, arming teachers sounds like a mighty fine idea. It's been especially helpful in Blountsville, Alabama.
“Obviously I’m concerned about a substitute teacher bring (sic) a gun to school,’’ the sheriff said, “and what we can do to prevent that in the future.”
Hire people who don't tote around a shootin' iron? Metal detectors in the faculty lounge? A quick pat-down for all staff before the first bell?
Bueller? Bueller?
What's 74, has two legs and two arms and one handgun, and works as a substitute teacher in Alabama?
If you answered "Henry Rex Weaver," you win! You must watch WBRC-TV, or read The Cullman Times, because they are reporting on a little fracas involving old Henry Rex last week.
Seems this "good guy with a gun" was, against all logic and sense, employed as a substitute teacher in a first-grade classroom at Blountsville Elementary School on Friday. Weaver is 74, for crying out loud, hardly up to the pace of a room full of 6-year-olds.
But no one knew he had the old persuader - the peacemaker - the gat, the bulky, the deuce-deuce, the rooty tooty point and shooty, the roscoe, in his pants.
This superannuated fool (above) carried a gun in his pocket as he substituted for the regular teacher, and the gun went off, slightly injuring one child.
Blount County Sheriff Mark Moon says Weaver, of Blountsville, was taken off campus and into custody. Weaver was taken to the Blount County Jail and has been charged with possession of a deadly weapon on school grounds, aggravated assault, and reckless endangerment.
"(The sound) alerted administrators,’’ Moon said. “He was detained until we could get him in our jail.”
In 2016, a former teacher at that same school, Bobbie Holaway, 60, was charged with shooting her husband to death.
Yeah buddy, arming teachers sounds like a mighty fine idea. It's been especially helpful in Blountsville, Alabama.
Hire people who don't tote around a shootin' iron? Metal detectors in the faculty lounge? A quick pat-down for all staff before the first bell?
Bueller? Bueller?
Sunday, March 24, 2019
Sunday Rerun: Look ma, no hands!
Google thinks they're really ahead of the curve with the driverless cars that they're testing, but there was a man 50-some years ago who drove a magic car that folded up like a briefcase when he got to work.
So what if it was George Jetson! Your point being?
Back to real life, one of the Googlemobiles was stopped for driving too slowly last month...this took place in California where police stopped a car with no driver for driving 24 mph in a 35-mph zone.
Can you just imagine the officer walking up to the car and seeing no one at the wheel? "Uh...invisible license and registration, please..."
I have no idea why Google is spending a fortune on driverless cars. How useful can they be? How can they pay tolls - by having a saucer full of change on the front seat, and having the tolltaker reach in and take the fare?
How do they talk to the drive-thru window person at McDonald's?
How do they roll down the window to holler at other drivers? Oh that's right. There is no one to do the hollering.
Google says its cars have a "library of various sirens" and they have an inner app to identify them, so when an police car, fire engine or medic unit come up on them, the car will "drive more conservatively until it has a better sense of where the
sirens are coming from." And the automatic autos have cameras for eyes to "see" flashing lights at an intersection, so they will yield to the emergency vehicle.
That's nice. I still don't get the point of replacing a human driver who would work for $50,000 a year with a device that costs $50,000,000, but that's just me.
Google says their robot cars have been on the roads for 6 years, have driven over 2 million miles, and have had 17 "minor incidents," which is what I told my father it was when I skidded on ice that time. They also say that their driverless cars have never been the cause of an accident, which, again, is what I told my father that snowy morning.
Here's what I really love about the Googlenews on this brave new world of unmanned Impalas. Last week, they received a patent for a device that will equip its cars with robotic hands to make hand gestures.
This is science following mankind! I see people making gestures all the time with their hands, or sometimes, just one finger.
So what if it was George Jetson! Your point being?
Back to real life, one of the Googlemobiles was stopped for driving too slowly last month...this took place in California where police stopped a car with no driver for driving 24 mph in a 35-mph zone.
Can you just imagine the officer walking up to the car and seeing no one at the wheel? "Uh...invisible license and registration, please..."
I have no idea why Google is spending a fortune on driverless cars. How useful can they be? How can they pay tolls - by having a saucer full of change on the front seat, and having the tolltaker reach in and take the fare?
How do they talk to the drive-thru window person at McDonald's?
How do they roll down the window to holler at other drivers? Oh that's right. There is no one to do the hollering.
Google says its cars have a "library of various sirens" and they have an inner app to identify them, so when an police car, fire engine or medic unit come up on them, the car will "drive more conservatively until it has a better sense of where the
sirens are coming from." And the automatic autos have cameras for eyes to "see" flashing lights at an intersection, so they will yield to the emergency vehicle.That's nice. I still don't get the point of replacing a human driver who would work for $50,000 a year with a device that costs $50,000,000, but that's just me.
Google says their robot cars have been on the roads for 6 years, have driven over 2 million miles, and have had 17 "minor incidents," which is what I told my father it was when I skidded on ice that time. They also say that their driverless cars have never been the cause of an accident, which, again, is what I told my father that snowy morning.
Here's what I really love about the Googlenews on this brave new world of unmanned Impalas. Last week, they received a patent for a device that will equip its cars with robotic hands to make hand gestures.
This is science following mankind! I see people making gestures all the time with their hands, or sometimes, just one finger.
Saturday, March 23, 2019
The Saturday Picture Show, March 23, 2019
This week's clever idea is starting your seeds in a thoroughly biodegradable container such as an ice cream cone. Cool sprouting!
Friday, March 22, 2019
Come fly with me
You know who's the coolest couple in downtown Baltimore? Boh and Barb.
They are the highest flyers of them all. Barb and Boh are peregrine falcons, mated for life, and their roost is the 33rd floor ledge of the Transamerica Tower in Baltimore.
They welcomed their first egg of spring on the first day of spring, and you can see it all live! as it happens! by going to the webcam at https://explore.org/livecams/falcons/peregrine-falcon-chesapeake-conservancy
We'll wait while you go there and see the sights.
The Chesapeake Conservancy, a group of people dedicated to nature, has had a camera up there showing their falconry since 2015.
The building used to be called the USF & G Building, and then the Legg Mason building, and one day in 1978, someone who was probably supposed to be doing something work-related saw a pair of falcons setting up a home outside his/her window.
The Conservancy has done a lot to share the falcons' lives with us, and they even named these two for local favorites: National BOHemian beer, and former US Senator BARBara Mikulski.
They are the highest flyers of them all. Barb and Boh are peregrine falcons, mated for life, and their roost is the 33rd floor ledge of the Transamerica Tower in Baltimore.
They welcomed their first egg of spring on the first day of spring, and you can see it all live! as it happens! by going to the webcam at https://explore.org/livecams/falcons/peregrine-falcon-chesapeake-conservancy
We'll wait while you go there and see the sights.
The Chesapeake Conservancy, a group of people dedicated to nature, has had a camera up there showing their falconry since 2015.
The building used to be called the USF & G Building, and then the Legg Mason building, and one day in 1978, someone who was probably supposed to be doing something work-related saw a pair of falcons setting up a home outside his/her window.
The Conservancy has done a lot to share the falcons' lives with us, and they even named these two for local favorites: National BOHemian beer, and former US Senator BARBara Mikulski.
They say that Peregrine falcons move faster than any other creature that roams the earth, with the exception of people who push their carts past me to get in line at the Giant. They fly and swoop at around 200 miles per hour, and for lunch will just have a pigeon that until a minute ago was flapping his wings around the courthouse sidewalk.
And they like to set up their homes on high cliffs, but will settle for a skyscraper downtown where the hipsters are.
And you know that old expression about "leaving the nest," right? Well, it's true. Falcons call their young "eyasses" (!) and Barb and Boh had a brood of four eyasses last year. One of them, Kalani, showed up on the upper floors of a tall building in Richmond. We don't know about about the other three, but I reckon at least one of them is wearing flannel shirts and a full long beard and trying to get his book of haiku published.
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