Krawdadhski's Korner

PANTHERS IN OUR MIDST

2005-07-02T14:44:00.000-04:00

Every area has its history and some even manage to throw in a little interest with legends and myths. In several rural areas around the country, I've heard tales of many things that go bump in the night. One bumpmeister that seems to crop up from time to time is the elusive black panther. Many of the storytellers will concede that while the stories of these big cats are entertaining, their existence is the area is doubtful. I beg to differ.

During the last period of time that I had resided in Crocker, Missouri, I use to go riding with the local saddle club every Wednesday evening. The ride was mostly on dirt roads, the circuit going from the town, down to the river, through wooded areas, by the railroad tracks, and back into town. One evening in particular, I was during the ride as usual along with my brother-in-law, Larry. The group pretty much made a short ride of it that night, everyone except Larry and I opting to turn around and go back into town before hitting the river. Larry and I decided to continue the ride.

It was a bright night that night with a full moon. When we got to the river, we decided to take a short break to rest the horses and answer the respective calls of nature; however, Mother Nature had different ideas.

Out of the undergrowth on the right side of the road, something large moved and jumped into the middle of the roadway into the moonlight. I kid you not, it was a black panther. It stood on the road, staring at us, twitching its tail. The horses wanted no part of the scene, rearing, crow hooping, and trying to bolt away. Larry and I tried to calm the horses, hoping that maybe we could peaceably back away from the cat without further incident. Then as suddenly as it appeared, the panther leaped across the road into the brush on the other side.

Needless to say, we got the hell out of there; feets don't fail us now. After that Larry started carrying a sizeable gun with him on the rides and any other time he went out into the woods. Me; every time I remember all those times I would go out into the woods as a kid or an adult, sometimes traveling back home in the dark, sometimes on foot, and always without nothing more than a stick or a pocket knife, I almost mess my underwear. Next time, like Larry, I will have a gun. And when I hear a screaming sound in the woods, I'll reconsider that it may not be a bull bellowing, but a panther.

Roughly two or three years after my experience, my father had one of his own. He lived out in the country near Agra, Oklahoma. He had a considerable vegetable gardens which would attract certain types of varmits in the evenings and at nights. He frequently would go out in the dark with a rifle and a flash light to kill or chase off any rabbits, raccoons, or armadillos that would get into the gardens, the compost piles, and stray dogs that would get into the trash. The older Dad got, the lesser of a killer he became. His weapon of choice finally graduated to a .22 cal pellet rifle with a flashlight taped to the foreward handhold.

On the evening that it happened, he heard something get into the garbage cans stored behind the workshop. Out he went with the pellet rifle, quietly moving toward the perpetrator. He expected a dog. What he seen at first was a large and long tail moving and flicking from side to side. Then he seen the rest of the animal, a black panther. The panther cast him a brief look, and to Dad's relief, it walked off into the night.

I've been told that panthers are very rare in areas where they use to range long ago, forced out by the intrusion of Man. Black panthers are even more rare or nonexistent. But I have to wonder how wrong that assumption is. Maybe more of those sightings are real.

MILITARY MEDICINE

2005-07-01T22:44:00.000-04:00

Score one for military medicine. My son recently came home from his hitch in the Army. What's bad about is was that he was discharged before his EAS due to medical reasons. During his tour in South Korea, he had the misfortune of injuring his left knee. For some reason the surgery necessary was done out in town by a civilian doctor. And normally a doctor will insist on sufficient recovery time after a surgery for proper healing; however, some brain child in the Army thought better, and it was back to duty the next day. Imagine a helicopter mechanic trying to do repairs while hobbling on crutches. Not surprisingly the knee's condition got worse. One could argue that it was the doctor's fault or the Army's, but one will never know for sure for this soldier spent several month's trying to get military doctors convinced that the problem was getting worse and to do something about it. Some doctors came back with the old standby of accusing this soldier of malingering and threatened to charge him for it. Someone finally did believe the soldier's complaint and did bother to take a look at the knee. It was pretty messed up. Then a med board decided to discharge this soldier. My son will walk with a limp for the rest of his life. He hopes that maybe the V.A. will fix it for him. Maybe.

Nothing's changed it seems. I sustained an injury to the lower back during the war when a 100 cu. crate slid off a semi trailer as I was loading it by hand. I tried to prevent it from falling. A few months after the war, the back went out on me while doing some PT exercises, and I found myself unable to stand upright. I was sent to BAS where the fun began. Common sense would suggest seeing a doctor and getting some X-rays, right? However, I was sent to physical therapy where I was immediately initiated into an exercise program. I went through that for six months, but was dropped by the doctor who was supervising my case due to the fact that there was no improvement. He was concerned that since the injury hadn't been properly diagnosed (what diagnosis?) that therapy could worsen it. Months went by before I was finally given an appointment to actually see a doctor about it. The doctor was more concerned about my eating habits and skimpy underwear than about the injury. The exam consisted of a large amount of time asking and answering questions, many of which I felt had nothing to do with the injury. Then when he started asking me about drinking I responded with asking him why he was asking the questions. He then accused me of being in denial concerning my drinking habits, and said that it was one of the signs of alcoholism. I argued the point and ended up being sent to alcohol rehab where some more fun and games began.

All that was done at rehab was a counsel session where I had to give a detailed medical history and answer numerous questions. Afterwards, the counselor determined that I didn't have an alcohol problem and didn't need rehab. Then a statement concerning the session and his findings was presented to me for signing. I refused. The statement itself had numerous contraditions, and some of the facts I had presented where misrepresented. Like when I was asked about ever experiencing any blackouts, I answered "yes". When I was a teenager, I was a victim of an automobile accident. I had no conscious memory of the accident itself or events that took place during the couple of hours after the collision inspite of the fact that I was conscious (and NO alcohol involved save for the guys who hit us -- they were drunk). I also experienced a bout of anemia as a teenager which had worsen to the point to where I would pass out when I stood up. NO alcohol involved. I was asked about experiencing depression. Sure; went through a bout of it after my husband of ten years ran off with another woman leaving me to care for two children alone. Who wouldn't get depressed. However, the evaluation, though it did state that I had no alcohol addiction, it contributed the blackouts and depression to alcohol. I told the good doctor that I couldn't sign the evaluation due to false statements that it contained. In turn, I was threatened with charges of disobeying a direct order.

I did manage to get some X-rays done and a bone scan, both of which showed no broken bones. But the military refused to do any soft tissue study involving a CAT scan or MRI. Too costly they said. So the back problem continued, a sciatic condition with undetermined origins. And it got worse.

My file got sent to the group surgeon who was to initiate a med board on the problem. Nothing happened. My EAS came up and I had to fight to get an extension for this board. Nothing happened, and again another extension. The last time the EAS came up, S-1 said another extension was a no-go. They started processing me out of the Marine Corps, a process which required me to track down my medical records. The group surgeon still had it buried under a pile of others, gathering dust I assume. The group surgeon ordered a set of X-rays done "to cover our asses" (overheard) before giving me back the record. A few days later, I was out. When I got my DD-214 I was unable to walk, stand upright, drive, sit, ect. without some sort of aid or assistance. Without medical treatment and insurance, I was left to recover on my own. It took a couple of months before I could stand and walk halfway decently. Luckily I had a bit of leave to sell back to the military and my future husband-to-be otherwise I would have been some homeless schmuck.

'Course I'm still fighting with V.A. to get something done. They claim the injury is a birth defect. And I did finally get an MRI done, but the V.A. won't tell me the results of the test.

For those readers who find this a little hard to swallow, hey, this happens quite a lot in the military. In many places, the medical care our troops get is substandard compared to what the civilian world gives its patients. Part of the problem is some of the doctors in the service are there to get their schooling and training, and they can't wait to get out to start practicing out in the civilian world where they can start to make some real money. This produces some poor attitudes; doctors who feel that their valuable time is being imposed upon by military patients.

Another part of the problem is that military patients don't enjoy the same rights as civilians, nor do they have legal recourse to address problems of negligence and malpractice. Military doctors are officiers, and what they say goes. It's considered an order. The patient isn't allowed to question a diagnosis and/or treatment, nor is allowed to refuse the same without dire consequences. Nor can he/she get a second opinion. Or a third. And it doesn't matter if the patient can prove the doctor wrong. And with the Feres Doctrine, the patient can't sue.

In all fairness, there are outstanding medical personnel in the service, but not enough to make a big difference I think. And these folks have to same problems fighting the system, trying to police their ranks of the bad ones.

BAN ON WOMEN IN COMBAT SUPPORT UNITS

2005-05-16T16:30:00.000-04:00

Just heard the other day that the House Armed Services subcommittee has banned women from serving in combat support units. The first thing that hit my mind is "why?" and "are they trying to get rid of women in the military altogether?" Seriously, folks, if you're not sitting on the front line getting shot at, you're supporting the guys who do. Even the cooks and the pencil pushers. It'll certainly be interesting to see how the military handles the ban. Either they'll start closing down a lot of the MOSs currently available to women and/or list them as undeployable in wartime and keep them sitting here in the United States. Either way, it's just plain stupid and unfair.

SUMMERTIME PATRIOTS

2005-04-30T23:06:00.000-04:00

I make a point of reading the letters to the editor, opinion columns, and editorials in several newspapers every day. It gives me an idea of how the people in the area think and what they consider important to them. Perhaps it isn't a good barometre, but so far it hasn't failed me.

One of the current issues since U.S. troops took Baghdad, is our presence in that war itself. Seems that the folks here are vocal about their support for the troops, but against the war itself. In a way, I can't help feeling angry towards some of these people. Where in the Nine Hells were these people before the invasion? I remember how before the war, the majority was caught by the blood lust, and anyone who was in opposition of the war was a low life piece of scum. Americans claimed unity, but we were in reality a divided people. Anti-war sentiments were considered un-American, and anyone who voiced them were labelled as traitors. Some Americans felt that these so-called traitors should be imprisoned or put to death. Hello? This is suppose to be America where, right or wrong or indifferent, everybody can express their views without fear of punishment and/or persecution. Right? This is the America that I, and many others with me and before me, fought for.

I'm not ashamed to say that I was against the war. I was in Operation Desert Storm, and regardless of the propaganda, the war was about oil. And so is this war. Just about all the conflicts in the Middle East over the last several decades has been over oil. Granted that Saddam is a monster and the world would be a better place without him; however, he is a monster made in America.

Anyone who remembers their history will remember that Saddam and his boys were given training and aid by the CIA years ago. Saddam was to be a U.S. friendly buffer against Iran. Saddam murdered and butchered his way into power, but America didn't care. We supplied him with all the goodies with which he built his chemical/biological arsenal, and no one here was concerned when he used it on the Iranians and on his own people. Relations with Saddam were so friendly that he informed us about his intentions with Kuwait, but our government dismissed those plans as a minor border dispute not worth our attention. After the war, inspite of the embargos, the majority of oil imported into this country came from Iraq.

America had a golden opportunity to get rid of Saddam during the last war. The Kurds saw the end of that war as a chance to stage a rebellion against the regime, and had asked for American support to which was agreed to. But instead of getting the troops and munitions they thought they would get, America sat on the sidelines cheering them on while they got slaughter by Saddam's troops.

In my mind, to say that we were going to war to free the Iraqi people from Saddam is hypocritical. If we had truly cared about the Iraqis, we should have stayed out of Iraq years ago. Perhaps then the people would of have some chance of dealing with the unrest in the region themselves. All Kuwait was back in 1991 was an object lesson to remind Saddam who really was in charge, and to secure our oil interests. But apparently some of our hired help in Washington, D.C. felt it wasn't enough. So America invaded Iraq.

There were other reasons that I wasn't in favour of another war with Iraq. Some of those Iraqis are just plain nuts. A religious fanatic with nothing to lose is scary by itself, but to deal with a whole bunch of them in a "conventional war" is asking for trouble. And in one sense you could have a situation like in Vietnam (and we do) where it's difficult to tell the good guys from the bad guys for they look alike. And these bad guys aren't above using women, children, and other taboo items in a war. After all, Allah is suppose to be on their side, and anything they do in His name has to be okay; right? Ideally the war should have been kept out in the desert to keep the Iraqi soldiers from running into the towns and cities and turning it into an urban combat nightmare. With the downsizing of the military, America didn't have enough troops and the beans, bullets, and bandages to successfully engage in a war. Also there's the issue of sending another generation of troops into a battlefield already made toxic from the last war, and America still hasn't really dealt with the veterans from that war. Hey, I could go all night on this.

Basically a bad idea all around. And it gets me that we invaded a country. Saddam didn't declare war on us, or make threats. His army didn't set foot outside his borders for any reason. Saddam didn't even give us the finger (maybe not publically). So where is the legal justification in accordance to our and international laws of warfare?

It didn't bother me that much to be called a traitor. What bothered me were my fellow Americans who called themselves patriots were so quick to condemn others who didn't buy the propaganda, and none of them appear to even ask why these people were against the war in the first place.

And now the popular thing to do is to be against the war. Like with the flag waving. I remember flying Old Glory from the antenna on my truck after I got back from the war. Sure I got laughed at by some people and harrassed a little, but after some Ohio state troopers stopped me and threatened to jail me for flying the flag, I put it away and haven't displayed our nation's pride since then. And then there's the old man in one of these gated communities who got some serious heat over flying the American flag on a flagpole he had installed in front of his home. The neighborhood felt the flag conflicted with the image that they were trying to achieve. 'Course after 9/11 the flag was the cool thing to do. God help anyone who didn't. 'Course again the fans are a fickle lot and with the war not going so swell the flags have been packed away. The troops will find themselves in a similar situation if they haven't already.

A friend once told me that we get exactly the kind of government we deserve. I hope that our summertime patriots keep that in mind for we're losing the America that was fought for, bled for by true patriots for whom love for one's country was not politically correct or fashionably trendy lip service. They spoke their minds and put actions to their words 24/7.

2005-04-15T21:20:00.000-04:00

White Ibis of the Estero River

2005-04-15T21:17:00.000-04:00

Part of old Calusa fish trap area

2005-04-15T21:11:00.000-04:00

Little Blue Heron

2005-04-15T21:10:00.000-04:00

Royal Tern in flight

2005-04-15T21:08:00.000-04:00

Another jumping dolphin

GULF WAR ILLNESS

2005-04-15T19:42:00.000-04:00

Since the Persian Gulf War, a lot has been written about Gulf War Illness. I find it rather interesting that the bulk of research done by the government, or any entity that has a government connection, usually presents facts and figures that would indicate that Gulf War Illness is not real. I've noticed that some of their papers I've read seem to favour the word "unlikely" at lot. Meanwhile the bulk of civilian research indicates that the medical problems addressed by the veterans are real, and that the various factors that these servicemen were exposed to are relevant to their illnesses. So who's right?

To me, the controvery over this illness is downright scary. If the illness is real, then we have some serious issues with national security and the public welfare. We sent a generation of warriors into a conflict against an enemy who was known to have a significant arsenal of chemical weapons, and history had shown us that he wasn't reluctant to use them even on his own people. There is evidence that shows several American companies had supplied Iraq with several chemical and biological agents, many with dual use capabilities, and little to no monitoring was done, in light of the fact that Saddam was building an arsenal of chemical weapons, to ensure that their uses were benign as Iraq claimed that they would be. Like the anthrax samples that were to be used to produce vaccine. Where is all this vaccine? Many of the servicemembers became sick from their service in the war, but what they and the public got were a string of denials as to what happened during the war, and anything that would normally have caused concern was downplayed.

Some facts have had little public attention paid to them such as the fact that these servicemembers went to war equipped with chemical protective gear more suitable in the past conflicts such as World War II. Iraq was know to possess dusty agents of which the chemical suits offered no protection from. Nor did they go to war with any sort of biological protection or equipment capable of testing biologicals. Moreover, supply appeared to fail to provide a sufficient amount of chemical protection gear. My unit couldn't get replacements for unuseable chemical suits and filters.

From manuals and our NBC (nuclear biological chemical) training, a gas mask filter should be replaced about every 30 days unless it becomes clogged or expose to certain elements such as moisture or petroleum products. Then replacement is required after contamination. The chemical suits are suppose to be replaced about 14 days after the package is opened unless torn, exposed to contaminates, or rendered useless by water, dirt, and other filth. Also of note is that every Marine is suppose to check the packaged NBC items prior to opening for tears, pinholes, or anything else that would indicated a broken seal in the package. If such is found the item is considered useless and is destroyed.

After landing in Saudi during Operation Desert Shield, many units ran NBC drills in preparation for the war. When Marines is my unit attempted to get necessar replacements on used up NBC gear, they were refused and told that the gear was good forever. No replacements necessary. Either someone waved a magic wand, or the Marines were lied to. It isn't hard to figure out which is true.

Some Marines weren't even given a full issue of NBC gear to begin with.

By the time the air campaign started, both sets of gas mask filters were so badly clogged, I couldn't breath with the mask on. And both suits were fouled with grease, dirt, and had gotten wet off and on during the rains of January. Many others were in the same situation. And we probably had better protection just covering ourselves with our ponchos and holding our breaths. Some quit using the gas masks altogether since suffering from a lack of oxygen was more of an immediate danger than risking death or illness from a nerve agent against which the mask was useless against anyways.

Gear was washed down and inspected prior to shipment back to the states. The personnel weren't. My unit went through what was called an agricultural washdown, the purpose of which was to prevent introduction in this country any exotics that may be harmful to the ecology. Oddly this gear after rigourous washing and inrespection ( sometimes repeat washdowns and inspections ) would be staged out in the open at the docks sometimes waiting for days before being loaded on the ships. Out in the open collecting dust, bugs, and all sorts of windblown debris. Can anyone say "decontamination", boys and girls? In my mind, it was equipment decontamination that we did. I know that at least with my own inspections, it was the only equipment inspection I ever had that was conducted without my presence. In fact, I was ordered back to my tent during the inspection. And half of it was behind closed doors in the connex boxes that had our tools, parts, and test equipment. They must of had some really good flashlights to do it up proper. Unfortunately, our own personal gear didn't undergo the same washdown and scrutiny. It should have. And we should have all been placed in a medical quarantine before re-entering the United States. Who knows what we brought home with us.

Of note was the fact that our EOD buried three of our trucks out in a pit in the desert. That's a big "WHY?" in my book. Marines don't waste anything. We can't afford to. If a vehicle becomes so far gone that repairs are pointless, we strip them down until there's nothing useful left. Like the CUCV we raped down to bare chassis. And the chassis wasn't buried. We shipped it back to the states just like the totalled LVS wrecker and other junk. A staff sergeant discovered the burial, and sent a detail of Marines to recover the vehicles. During the recovery, the Marines received orders from higher up to rebury the trucks and leave the area. No reason why was given.

Another scarey bit of info are the numerous reports of military dependents and medical personnel who have been in contact with ill veterans and have claimed to became ill as well, experiencing many similar medical complaints. Again, a big "WHY?" If the medical complaints were some kind of flu, there would be concern expressed for the public's health and worries of a possible epidemic. But since it is GWI (Gulf War Illness), health consequences and other implications are ignored or downplayed.

And what about the birth defects? Our hired help would have us believe that nothing unusual is going on here. However, other sources show the increase and severity of the defects is real and a cause of concern. And what of the folks living near or in the former battlefields? Research shows that they too are experiencing a higher incidence of birth defects and miscarrages. And a higher incidence of certain cancers.

It's tragic enough that our military personnel are treated as mere cannon fodder to be discarded after the war is over. But it's more tragic the lack of outrage and concern in the public sector. After all, part of the issue is the public health and welfare. Why aren't more people crying "foul" and demanding answers? Granted that in any given group of people, there is a small percentage of fakers seeking to milk the guillible for any and everything they can get. But with GWI, there's more than a small percentage claiming to be ill, and that should bring up a red flag in anyone's mind. Maybe it's true that people will believe what they want to believe regardless of the truth. Maybe living with lies are more comforting than facing the harsh responsibilities of reality. But sooner or later, lies have a way of catching up with us, and biting back big time. What's going to happen when it does?

There's been a lot of arguments on whether chemical weapons were used in the first Gulf War. Even years after the war, I still read what I regard are the old lies that the government and military still persist is the truth. They still want us to believe that Saddam never used NBC weapons on U.S. troops, that every alarm was false, that every Scud was a dud, and that there were never any NBC weapons in the combat theatre. And, yeah, I got some prime oceanfront property in Arizona I'd like to sell you for a song. Many of the soldiers and Marines that were there will tell you different.

Our hired help would also like you to believe that certain things are really all that bad. Like depleted uranium. DU, no matter how it is sugar-coated, is still radioactive waste. It was regarded as a hazard long before the Gulf War. Nobody wants it buried in their back yards, yet since the war, we suppose to believe that it is harmless. Hey, sprinkle some of the DU on your corn flakes for a little extra flavour. And pesticides are good for you. Yeah, right. Something designed to kill something won't have any effect on another organism? And where do you think nerve agents come from?

The oil well fires are a good one. While the public has been concerned about the byproducts of the combustion of petroleum products in our automobiles, and the pollutants from oil refineries, our hired help expects us to swallow the crap that all those burning oil wells belching out tons of black smoke for months were harmless. I couldn't buy the line that the firefighters that were putting out those oil well fires and capping the wells were able to do it without any sort of protective equipment. If true, they must have been some kind of supermen. I come from Oklahoma, and our boys there have to wear asbestos suits and carry a breathing apparatus when fighting an oil well fire. Hell, the heat alone from a burning well will sear your lungs before you can get close enough to do anything. And with that fire sucking up a lot of the oxygen nearby, where are you going to get sufficient air to breathe? I remember when I was in Kuwait, I couldn't get no closer than 500 yards to a burning well. Metal got too hot to touch, and the ends of my hair where curling from the heat. I spent months after the war coughing up black gunk from my lungs. And it was roughly five years before the severe cough that developed during the later part of the war finally cleared up.

Worse; we're doing it again with a second generation. The Iraqis are reported to have no chemical weapons, but troops periodically find stashes of such during the war. Iraqi troops are equipped the chemical protection gear, chlorine grenades, and anti-nerve auto injectors. From time to time there are reports of an IED containing a chemical agent that is exploded, but little attention has been paid to such. Troops are becoming ill but that fact is downplayed. The numbers of the ill are downplayed. And we're expected to believe that a known respiratory disease is a commonplace combat hazard, and the disease mysteriously attacks other organs of the body, something that it has never been known to do before.

Well, 'nuff said for now.

JROTC

2005-04-11T10:31:00.000-04:00

Lately I see a lot of commentary in our local newspaper about JROTC. Some folks feel that the program is solely responsible for the military recruiters who visit high schools to prey on innocent helpless boys and girls, seducing them with lies so to supply Uncle Sam with more fodder for wars. I'm not going to argue the point that recruiters lie. Just about anyone who has served in the military will tell you, yes, their recruiter lied to them. Just don't put the blame on JROTC. And of note, not all high schools have a JROTC program. Mine didn't.

I'm acquainted with JROTC through my son who unknowingly signed up for the program when he selected a leadership course offered by the school. The school failed to mention that the course was being given by JROTC. He liked the class so much that he stayed with JROTC throughout the rest of his high school years. And later enlisted in the U.S. Army. But don't blame JROTC or recruiters for that either. He has a mother and stepfather who are both U.S. Marines, and we were probably a bigger influence on his decision to pursue a military career.

These kids don't get too much of a break from their fellow students or some of the teachers. Often they are referred to as rotsy-Nazis and are looked down upon by many. I've heard some express the opinion that the JROTC students are less intelligent and less capable than their "civilian" peers. Wrong. I've found many JROTC students very intelligent, hard working, responsible, disciplined, and flexible to changing situations. Besides teaching leadership, military history, marksmanship, ect., JROTC enforces higher standards in ethics and moral values. JROTC is an extra-cirricular activity. It isn't an alternate school for idiots.

I've also noted that when and JROTC student is involved in a situation, the JROTC staff gets the phone call, not the parent. No one calls the math teacher when a math student screws up. No one holds the art teacher responsible when a student spray paints an obscene message of a public building.

JROTC also seems to be on the bottom of the totem pole when it comes to funding and bennies. While sport teams, bands, and other school groups get provided busing and other benefits for their activities, JROTC is required to find their own transportation, and pay for other expenses out of their own pockets. JROTC does a lot of community service. Who can say that about the football team? At games and many other after school activities JROTC is there to assist in parking, to help guests, and other activities involved in running an event. They are also the ones who stay behind to clean up the garbage that everyone else leaves behind.

Some JROTC students do go on to pursue careers in the military, but others carry the lessons learned into civilian life in college and the job market. JROTC isn't the military. It's a small taste of what the military is like and all about. JROTC carries a heavier burden of rules and regulations than any other school activity/class. A child is probably safer rappelling down a wall in a JROTC exercise than running in a track meet.

These kids deserve our respect and our blessings.

GOLF

2005-04-10T13:47:00.000-04:00

I'm in Hell. Some of you may wonder how someone like me, in the middle of God's paradise here in Southwest Florida, can feel this way. I have no doubt that the Prince of Lies in one sneaky son of a gun, and the Big G probably lets the bad guy do a few things to test the faith of man; however, golf courses are beyond cruel and unusual. They're a slice of Hell on Earth.

My opinion. I really wouldn't begrudge anyone from a game of golf even though I've tried the game myself and found it to be not my cup of tea. Being bad or good at it was not an issue (I'm a bad singer, but I still enjoy singing though I do try not to subject the rest of humanity to my numerous off-key notes and wailing), the problem was the game was boring to me. Some claim the game is relaxing. And sure, I'm all for relaxing, but not falling into a coma. Golf, for me, is an exercise in staying awake and alert. Golf games on TV are boring. Note all the hush tones. A library is more noisy than a golf game. And I would recommend that insomniacs record a golf game on tape or disc for replay later at night when they find it difficult to fall asleep. Golf in person -- still boring. There's not enough caffeine in the world that can keep me awake. Don't ask me why it is. I can enjoy the same geometry and physics in a golf game on a pool table -- no problem. I enjoy the great outdoors, and all the neat stuff one can do outside -- no problem. I'm not lazy, nor do I have a problem toting a bag full of clubs all over God's creation; I just don't care for golf.

As for Hell, I saw in a newspaper page that depicted the courses in Naples, Bonita Springs, up to and including the Fort Myers areas that there were a 142 golf courses. One gentleman reports that the number has gone up to 149. Regardless of who's right or wrong that still a lot of golf courses. Why so many? Even home is no longer a santuary for there's Raptor Bay right next door, and Pelican Landing has a golf course right along Coconut Road. Again, why so many golf courses?

Okay, I'll admit to one prejudice. Golf courses eat up a lot of real estate, and it takes enormous amounts of money and labour to grow that nice grass that no one will let you wiggle your bare toes in. I'd rather see the same amount of money and elbow grease put to use in growing food on the same real estate. Moreover, in this area of severe water restrictions and dwindling fresh water supplies, golf courses are an enormous drain on the H2O. Additionally the runoff of pesticides and fertilizers have shown to contribute to the pollution of our bay and rivers.

Still -- 142 golf courses....

That doesn't include any miniture golf courses.

I do have an idea that I've been playing with for years on how to make the game more lively, more interesting. But due to some serious lack of funding (and the lack of people to take me seriously), I doubt that I'll be joining the legions of golfers anytime soon. My idea? A combat golf course. Seriously.

I envision a game where golfers, prior to teeing off, much go through an urban combat scenerio in order to get the gear to play the game. Besides terrorists and disgruntled postal workers (throw in some of those blue-haired old ladies who stalk those K-Mart Blue Light specials for good measure), you can even do a sci-fi/horror twist and add a few brain eating zombies as well.

Then comes the minefield. Whoever makes it through the minefield with most of their body parts can then tee off. But the course itself has a few changes: machine gun nests, punji pits, IEDs, snipers, Jehovah witnesses (where'd that come from?), tanks, stafing helos and planes, second lieutenants, and military recruiters. Some of the holes will have minor obstacles around them such as razor wire, trenches, hidden booby traps, twelve foot walls, ect. To add a little wild kingdom flavour, the management can include on the course a few hungry lions, tigers, bears, and alligators.

Of course, the safety of the golfer is not forgottened. Every player will be outfitted in full body armour -- the really good stuff that the civilians use. No buying from the lowest bidder here. There will be also supplied top-of-the-line gas masks and chemical protective garments for those who want to go into areas where chemical agents are utilized. Optional are compasses, maps, scuba gear, bomb disarming kits, and military issue radios that sometimes work. Clothing consists of military BDUs (desert or woodland camo depending on the course) with a transponder sewn into the left breast pocket (to be activated if the player decides to abort the game), and combat boots. Also throughout the course there will be numerous safety features such as bunkers and protective berms for individual use. The bunkers themselves will each have a week's supply of MREs and water and blankets in the event that a player gets pinned down in an area and wants to wait out the firefight. Corpsmen will be stationed throughout the golf course at all times to render first aid and/or drag the casualties to designated no-fire zones where civilian paramedics will quickly transport them to the nearest medical facility. The janitorial staff will patrol the area at intervals to police up any offensive body parts that may happen to be lying around.

Score is of secondary importance, the first being making it to the last hole and completing in mostly one piece. In the event that several golfers make it to that point, the score with the least amount of swings will determine the winner. Cheating is not possible. Each ball has a signal transmitter which will be activated to a specific frequency in accordance to each individual's transmitter key. These signals will be monitored continuously and recorded by the security team at the clubhouse. After-game refreshments will be offered at the clubhouse at no charge. And why not? Anyone who makes it through the game deserves a few stiff drinks.

WEEKS FISH CAMP

2005-04-05T23:08:00.000-04:00

The posted pictures of Weeks Fish Camp marina area shows what greed and neglect can do. When I moved to the area in June 1993, the marina was a neat, tidy facility, the pride of the Weeks clan. At the time the marina operation was managed by Mamie Weeks and her son, Charles Weeks. Unfortunately, Mrs. Weeks was an elderly lady and suffered from on of the hazards of old age -- frail bones with easily break. She ended up confined to a wheelchair and in her daughter's (Daisy Banks) home for care. Her affairs came under the management of Amber Vojak, and considering the appearance of many events, Daisy seems to have had some influence in matters as well. One result of this was the eviction of Charles from the marina operation, his position being taken up by Daisy.

During their management of the marina facility (Vojak and Banks), I saw little evidence of any periodic maintenance being done or necessary repairs. Needless to say, the place started falling apart. To add insult to injury, activities involving the cutting and pushing back of the mangroves surrounding the marina were done. The mangroves were also backfilled in some areas, and garbage started appearing among the trees. The issue of the mangrove damage was addressed and the existence of permits; however, Vojak claimed that it had never occurred.

Of note, mangrove trees are a protected species here. It's illegal to cut, remove, or do just about anything else with the trees without getting special permits to do so. Environmentalist get very hot under the collar over mangrove abuse.

The marina property was later sold in January 2004 to the 131 Group under the name of Weeks Landing L.L.C. They were touted by the media as environmentally conscious developers, and had promised that the marina would be a first class showcase facility for the public. More than a year has gone by, and I'm still waiting for this first class showcase. From what I've seen, nothing has been done to the place. They haven't even bothered mowing grass on most of the property they own. The docking's condition worsened, part of the seawall collapsed into the canal, and the roads became riddled with potholes. I've been told that the local environmental guru was seen touring the area with the new owners many moons ago; however, nothing seems to have been done concerning cleaning up the garbage in the mangroves and repairing the damage.

I can imagine that blame for the sorry condition of the marina has been put on the hurricanes of last season. One of the new owners was reported taking pictures of the area after Hurricane Charley came through. In truth, the hurricanes did little damage here other than blowing out the dead wood, breaking branches of some trees, and knocking down power lines. Part of the trailer on Weeks Fish Camp Road did collapse, but a good thunderstorm would have done the same damage -- much of the external siding and windows and doors had been removed months prior. But the hurricanes can be attributed to cleaning up some of the debris in the mangroves, and washing away many of the loose or unsecured boards on the docks.

In my opinion, the marina is unsafe for use, public or otherwise. Worse for anyone that may use the facility and get injured -- I've been told that the marina doesn't carry any insurance. Though I am unable to verify that, I find it easy to believe in light of the absence of any occupational license and/or permits for the business (they should be available online but they seem to be nowhere to be found) -- no insurance company in their right mind would insure a business that isn't properly licensed.

With more and more marinas in this area falling into private hands, public attention has been focused on Weeks Fish Camp with the hope that its use still remains public. Part of the reason for posting these pictures of the area is so the public can get a better idea of the condition of the area. The media has written several stories about the property and the new owners, but, in my opinion, much has been printed that is wrong. Both the property and owners need re-examination, and questions need answering. Unfortunately, I haven't been able to find hardly anyone who cares. Too many people looking the other way for one reason or another. It's a shame. It use to be such a nice place.

2005-04-05T22:56:00.000-04:00

Weeks Fish Camp -- more backfill

2005-04-05T22:54:00.000-04:00

Weeks Fish Camp -- more quality

2005-04-05T22:52:00.000-04:00

Weeks Fish Camp -- mangrove backfill

2005-04-05T22:50:00.000-04:00

Weeks Fish Camp -- net garbage

2005-04-05T22:47:00.000-04:00

Weeks Fish Camp -- more debris

2005-04-05T22:43:00.000-04:00

Weeks Fish Camp -- and more docking

2005-04-05T22:41:00.000-04:00

Weeks Fish Camp -- boat storage

2005-04-05T22:38:00.000-04:00

Weeks Fish Camp marina

2005-04-05T22:36:00.000-04:00

Weeks Fish Camp -- end docks

2005-04-05T22:32:00.000-04:00

Weeks Fish Camp -- more docking

2005-04-05T22:30:00.000-04:00

Weeks Fish Camp -- more mangrove damage

2005-04-05T22:29:00.000-04:00

Weeks Fish Camp -- docking
Here's an example how some of the docks have fallen apart

2005-04-05T22:27:00.000-04:00

Weeks Fish Camp -- more trash in the mangroves

2005-04-05T22:25:00.000-04:00

Weeks Fish Camp -- mangrove area at marina
Here's a typical example of some of the trash that has been dumped amongst the mangrove trees around the marina at Weeks Fish Camp

SEXUAL ABUSE IN THE MILITARY

2005-03-30T18:26:00.000-05:00

Our current war with Iraq has brought more focus in the media on the women serving over there, and part of that focus has been the scandals of rapes that have occurred to our female warriors by our own servicemen. Frankly, I would question the idea that the incidence of sexual assault has increased as some have suggested that it has. In my mind, I feel that it has received more attention than usual especially by those who feel women are unsuitable for combat, feminists, and others who just simply relish dirty laundry. Sexual abuse (to use one term to cover assault, harrassment, and discrimination) has always been present in the military, and considering how it is handled much of the time, it will always be a problem unless a lot of attitudes are changed.

One thing that blew my mind was reading a comment from a certain officer who said that sexual assault was part of the hazards of combat. Excuse me? Rape is a possibility for a POW (that includes men, too), but I can't recall seeing or hearing anywhere where it is a common hazard in any other aspect of warfare. It's an outrage that our women in uniform not only have to be watchful of know enemy combatants, but also have to watch their backs in regard to inappropriate behaviour of their fellow warriors. It makes ridiculous one argument against women in combat; the one where men would be too overly concern with protecting the women than doing the job. Protect women from whom? Apparently not the enemy soldier.

I've seen and heard it too many times; men who won't stand for someone to do anything remotely inappropriate to a sister, a mother, a wife, a girlfriend, but excuse the same toward a woman in uniform with the saying that she deserved it, she was asking for it. Some of these same men will cop the attitude that a woman in uniform isn't a real soldier, a real Marine, a real sailor, ect. God forbid you take a swing at a buddy of theirs, but its okay to do it the woman. Don't get me wrong; I don't have a chip on my shoulder concerning men. The majority of the men I've worked with and for are outstanding human beings, and I would gladly put my life on the line for each and every one of them. However, there are a few sorry baggers in the service who are not fit to wear the uniform who screw it up for everyone else. And these so-called gentlemen seem to flourish under the permissiveness and protection of others like them.

I remember when I first checked into the fleet, a few of the male Marines weren't too hot about having a WM on the floor working along side them as a mechanic. One corporal made his dislike well known, almost on a daily basis, sometimes punctuating his verbal harrassment with punches. And the other guys standing around just watching the show. While I wasn't pleased about being chosen for a punching bag, what really made me angry was the fact that a corporal was abusing a private first class, and no one stepped in to remind this oxygen waster that such behaviour was inappropriate of an NCO to a subordinate. Sure, I could have gone to someone and made a report, or get a charge sheet written up on this corporal, but that would have made things worse. I tried to figure out a workable solution to the problem myself, but came up with nothing. Finally after several months of it, when the guy offered to teach me a lesson for the umpteenth time, I told him "fine, sure. Let's go out back so you can settle this like a man." I figured I'd get the crap beat out of me, but I was damn determined to get a few licks in myself, and hopefully end the crap. But we didn't go out back. Suddenly, he had better things to do and left my alone after that. And so did a lot of the other guys.

I've had my share of the fun stuff. While going through Motor T school at Camp Johnson, NC, I went out one night to one of the local clubs. It was a few blocks from the front gate, and like many of my fellow Marines, I didn't have a vehicle and I walked. It was a payday weekend, and that Saturday night the place was packed; standing room only. After one beer, I decided the live band playing wasn't worth the aggravation of getting jostled around, and I left. I stopped in a Dunkin Donuts, had several coffees, read the paper, and jacked my jaw with a couple of cops that had stopped in. Then I bought a dozen of those artery pluggers and headed back to base.

On the way, a black man, claiming to be a sergeant in the Marine Corps, stopped along the roadway and asked me if I wanted a lift. I politely turned him down. Twice more he circled around the block and offered me a ride -- once claiming he was concerned about my safety. Twice more I turned him down. Didn't like "no" for an answer apparently for he suddenly flew out of the car, and grabbed my arm, swinging me around and into the side of the car. Then he tried stuffing me into the car, telling me what he was going to do to me and how I was going to like it. I fought back. A fortunate kick in the gonads gave me enough opportunity to run off. Then the retard tried running me over with his car. I have to climb a tall chain link fence of the commercial lot that was along the roadside, and managed to cut through some woods to get back on base and to my barracks. The doughnuts were toast.

Monday morning, before a PT stint, I went to Student Control to report the incident. I had a good description of the guy, a description of his car, and his license plate number. Before I could explain anything, I had gotten a reprimand for my wild Saturday night out on the town. According to the sergeant, Student Control had gotten several phone calls that night about my activities. The calls alledged that I had stayed at the nightclub, got very drunk, and engaged in some very lewd behaviour with many of the men there. Apparently one club wasn't enough. I was reported to have visited several more clubs after that, drinking and carousing, and finished the night in a certain disreputable motel were it was reported that numerous men where seen going in an out of the room with great frequency during the remainder of the night. Rats! To think I missed out on all that by going to get some doughnuts.

I was further reprimanded about wearing provacative clothing (I was wearing blue jeans, a flannel Western shirt, cowboy boots, and my all-weather coat), and how I had no business out in town (what, I'm not permitted liberty just like everyone else?). When I finally got in two words edgewise, I managed to explain what happened and what I wanted done. I was then called a liar. I couldn't believe it. I was standing before the sergeant in PT gear with a good assortment of cuts and bruises from the fight. More the outrage was that the sergeant was a woman. I was further informed if I tried to bring this man up on charges, I would be charge with assault and conduct unbecoming among other things. It was further impressed that this man was an outstanding Marine, and it wouldn't be tolerated if I attempted in any manner to sully this man's reputation. Moreover, a sergeant's word had more weight than a pfc's.

A few month's later, I had another attack (do I have rotten luck or what?). I was playing good Samaritan and gave a trusted buddy a lift back to base. His idea of a thank-you was ripping my dress and trying to jump my bones. He didn't get too far. Those spiked heeled pumps work wonders.

Had a couple of eye openers during the war. After a few weeks being in-country, I had one of the guys in the platoon inform me that some of the boys felt that I would be of better service to my country and the war effort lying on my back. Excuse me? Worse, they felt that it was owed to them. Excuse me again? What a great feeling it was to know that I couldn't trust my fellow Marine. In a party that stresses unity, teamwork, and troop welfare, I was on my own. A few weeks later, some nameless captain who would pop up in the area from time to time offered to take my away from all the nastiness (what is it with some of these idiots?). Why suffer from the sand, the heat, the MREs, and the hard work when I didn't have to. Real accomodations with a real bed, carpeting, AC, ect. and all in exchange for a few special favours.

I had to check for "retard" tatooed on my forehead, or a sign stuck to my back for I couldn't believe that someone had the audacity to offer me such a proposal. Maybe he found someone else for those special favours. He certainly didn't get them from me. I do know that he could run pretty fast.

I consider myself lucky in that I fought back and succeeded, but what about all those women who do and aren't so lucky? I had a gunnery sergeant in my platoon who often drop very subtle hints about a relationship between him and me. I put my foot down with a firm "no", yet he persisted, and I ignored him in return. Then later, he sexually assaulted the daughter of his best friend, another gunnery sergeant, who was out to sea during the war. NIS did an investigation on the incident, and determined that the teenage girl had instigated the attack due to the fact that she wore long finger nails (NIS claimed that the long finger nails were an indication that the girl was a coke user). It was "hands off" on thing piece of trash. No one was even permitted to look this guy's way in any manner less than friendly.

There was a WM in my barracks who attempted suicide because she couldn't handle being passed around as some sexual party favour among some of the staff NCOs that she had to work with. Alledgedly, she was a wonton trollop that liked to drink and get wild. Sure, she liked to go party, and sometimes she would come back to the barracks drunk, but she never acted in the manner that they described. My noogies were torqued. As an NCO, I had helped her out from time to time with some problems here and there. I was angry that she had been so intimidated by those scumbags that she was afraid to come to me or someone else for help. One of the oxygen wasters that was involved I knew was dirty for I had had some problems with the bag of turds myself, but I was informed to keep my nose out of it, and forbiddened to even visit the girl in the hospital. Or else. Yeah, they solved the problem alright. Everything hush-hush, nobody prosecuted, and the girl disappeared (maybe transferred or discharged).

One of those oxygen wasters was a real piece of work. I had met him out in town at the Tarheel, and gave him a ride home. I didn't know that he was a Marine, only he seemed to be a decent fellow. Turns out home was the staff NCO barracks of our battalion. I couldn't drop him off fast enough. If I had known, he would have walked home. He showed up at my barracks later wanting a dinner date. He also informed me about his position in S-1, and how he had pulled my record after hearing some word about my little problem with that department (S-1 refused to give my two kids ID cards and a BAQ allotment). If I was nice to him, really friendly, he could see fit to resolve that little problem. I refused. I wasn't about to engage in any sort of fraternization or to be extorted sexually. That granted me several nights where he would show up at my barracks, beating the door and shouting threats because I refused to be friendly. And he made pretty sure the kids never got their benefits. Of course, when I brought up some of this in regards to his integrity and innocence in the suicide matter, it was dismissed as so much garbage.

Don't think that this is Dial-1-800-Waaaaah. I don't subscribe to the victim syndrome. Crap happens, but what got me was the fact that I don't come across as a potential victim (is there some sort of quota on sexual bozos in the military that I don't know about?). What about some of those women who do? I've known many WMs, and they all seem to have a story about some woman who was sexually assaulted and the man who got away with it. Some of these women had it happen to them. And I believe that it is true that the majority of these incidences never get reported, and for those that do, a lot of times the woman gets the blame and nothing happens to the perp. It doesn't take a genius to understand the unwritten unspoken message here. And no one will ever know how really widespread the problem is because of the numbers of those who are not talking. The military doesn't need special programs to protect the women in uniform, or special committees to study the problem. I remember Tailhook and the backlash of all those classes and other garbage that I had to contend with while still in the service. All it achieved was more animosity toward the women, widening the gap of a working relationship between them and their male workers, and making those few scumbags be a little more sneaky about their activities. All we need is more people enforcing the existing laws we already have on the books. After all, rape is a crime and not a recreational activity. And we need more common sense.

The idea that the mere presence of a woman can initiate an act of violence against her is sheer horse manure. Get real. We're talking about Marines, soldiers, sailors, and airmen who are suppose to be highly disciplined. If they are not disciplined enough to keep their second head stowed in their trousers, and their attention on the job, then they have no business in the military and don't deserve to wear the uniform.

For the girls, hey, you are not totally powerless. I have no idea what the real solution is to the problem, but remember your combat training. You are warriors, too, with skills. Use them. And use a buddy system. NCOs, watch out for your girls. Take the initiative to make a surprise tour of the area to check on their welfare. Moreover, talk to each other. Don't keep silent. My company had gotten a gunnery sergeant who was a bit friendly with the ladies. I learned from a male corporal about some unsavoury things in the gunny's SRB like rape charges that were mysteriously dismissed. Any benefit of the doubt evaporated one day when this gunny called me into his office. He was congratulating on something I had done, and part of this involved a pat on the back. No biggie, execpt the hand stayed. And it started rubbing in circles, moving lower and lower down my backside. I asked him to remove his hand. He didn't. Then I told him to remove it or lose it. Angry, he threatened to write me up for the threat. No threat; just promise. Go ahead and write me up. He didn't. While the male corporal had busied himself passing on some news to the women about the gunny, I let them know about the roving hand. Later, I overheard the gunny griping to another Marine about how unfriendly the WMs in the unit seem to be toward him. My heart bleeds purple Koolaid for you, gunny.

WOMEN IN COMBAT

2005-03-23T06:22:00.000-05:00

Speaking of religion or politics in polite company is guaranteed to torque the noogies of at least a few participants in the conversation. I've found by experience that another subject can cause a similiar amount of heat as well as revealing true feelings about feminism and that's the topic of women in combat. Nothing says "equal opportunity" like sending a woman into battle along with her male servicemembers. Moreover, I find myself curious about the attitudes of some in our society, people who approve of women in hazardous jobs out in the civilian world, yet balk at the idea of sending them into harm's way on the battlefield. What's the big deal? Why the hypocrisy?

I've heard that the military is man's last bastion of manhood which is fine by me as long as it is kept as a "men's only" organization, but it isn't, and in all probability, never has been. Women have been participating in war throughout recorded history in one manner or another. Some have even gone so far as to disguise themselves as men, and have fought with distinction. However, the contributions and sacrifices of women have largely gone unrecognized and unappreciated. Additionally, a great injustice is done when women are sent out into a war zone without adequate training and equipment, and the attitude that they aren't "real" warriors further endangers them. In truth, there are no "safe" areas in the combat theater. Anyone with at least two functioning brain cells knows that war isn't limited to the front lines. You also must deal with the rear support factions that supply all the beans, bullets, and bandages. The rear is also where many of the leaders are, assessing intelligence, planning, and executing orders. It is where many of the women are sent as well, the idea being that it is safer than out in the front in the foxholes. A bullet is just as deadly coming from a sniper as it is from some enemy at the front.

There are many arguments about the unsuitability of women in combat roles, much of which I view as ridiculous. Elimate the combat exclusion, and there won't be a dramatic flood of women going into fields such as infantry. Just as there are many men who don't want to be grunts, there are at least as many women who feel the same. And it is possible that with the elimination of the combat exclusion that the military could experience a reduction in the number of female servicemembers. From my own experience in the service, I've known many women that, while they enjoy of bennies of the uniform, don't want to pay out the other half of the coin of putting their lives on the line. Like one WM (Woman Marine) captain told a reporter, she felt that a woman had no place in combat, that she could better serve her country on the sidelines, offering her support to the men who went off to war. Yeah, right. Like go into sports and be a cheerleader. I have problems seeing how such a concept is fair.

I enlisted in the United States Marine Corps at the not-so-tender age of 28 (hey, divorce can make a person do some really strange things). Like the boys, I went through combat training in boot camp. In fact, I later learned that the training the women received was the same as what the men got, and I've been told that my series was the first to receive this combat training. Just like the boys, it was drilled into our heads that we were Marines. We were warriors. We were killers. And later, out in the fleet, we went through the same training, the same testing, and had to meet the same requirements as the guys. Yet when war came, we weren't permitted to utilize those basic skills we were taught. That didn't make sense to me. Nor did the idea that the front line was any more hazardous than any where else was in the war. I wasn't permitted to go to the front because I could get shot at, but it was acceptable for me to risk getting shot at in the rear by a sniper. It was okay to risk death or dismemberment while putting out a tire fire on a semi trailer loaded with munitions, or the fire of our POL where 55 gallon barrels are shooting off into the sky like rockets. I would have preferred facing an Iraqi soldier on the front line than one of my own people who threatened my life because I wouldn't condone his pasttime of thievery.

By MOS, I was a Motor Transport mechanic who had the misfortune of being discovered possessing other skills besides turning wrenches. I became my platoon's Embarcation NCO, Publication NCO, and Toolroom NCO, being responsible for my unit's material assets. Part of my job required me to outfit and keep supplied our line companies with tools and other goodies, but part of the job was hampered by the fact that I wasn't permitted to go to the front when necessary. At one time, there was a problem with the guys on the front lines getting the oil needed for their trucks. We had trucks leaving the supply depot with barrels of oil going to the front, but for reasons unknown, our boys weren't getting it. I felt it necessary to go to the front from time to time to ensure that the supplies were going where they were suppose to, but that idea resulted in many a firm "no".

Well, folks, time to put this aside for later. I've got another killer wanting to get online to fight evil and save the universe. And this killer has some pressing things to do. Like clean house. And some serious knitting.

THE...UMMMM...CAT

2005-03-16T16:46:00.000-05:00

I've gotten many compliments on Fidget, my cat, but let me tell you, these folks have no idea what they are talking about. Looks are deceiving. I remember how Fidget looked as a seven week old orphan, a tiny little thing that barely filled the palm of my hand. So helpless, so enduring, so heart-wrenchingly loveable, ect. In reality, it was part of the plan to sucker me in, and it worked. I took her home, cared for her, loved her, and after I was hopelessly enslaved, the real monster revealed itself.

For example, sleeping in is a thing of the past. When Fidget is up, everybody is up. Playing 'possum in not an option. If she's feeling kind, she'll pat your face with her paw, and give you a few licks on the cheek. If that doesn't work, then it's using your body for a highway, paying special attention to certain tender body parts. Or sliding under the covers along your backside and getting the claws of both front paws suddenly in your flesh. There's also the 'dropping books on the head' routine, and as a last resort, the 'cannonball dive from the highest bookcase shelf onto your belly' stunt (I swear you can almost hear the mindnumbing scream of "Bonzai!!!" in that wicked little mind of hers). Resistence is futile; you're getting out of bed whether you like it or not.

Fidget-time is whenever Fidget decides it is to be, not when you want it. Play is sometimes surprise attacks and always when you least expect it. White paws shooting out from under a chair or sofa to attack unsuspecting ankles, or worse, a paw siding between the sofa cushions from the backside to give you a good goose. A sudden game of tag, or an attack on an idle hand. Or the general chaos of a calico streak of fur shooting through the house, wreaking destruction.

There are quiet times where she'll jump into your lap, promptly curling up into a ball and falling asleep. She usually waits to do this at the most inconvenient times. Or she'll decide to perch herself on your shoulder like some living scarf, purring and cooing, and beating you in the face with the tale all the while.

Instilling discipline...what a joke. She just stares at me like my ears have fallen off. And there is no place at home where I can hide for peace and quiet...she always finds me. And when she decides that it's bedtime, I follow like the well trained human that I've become.

2005-02-28T06:47:00.000-05:00

"Uh oh! There goes the neighborhood!"

2005-02-28T06:43:00.000-05:00

Dolphin jumping

PICTURES, PICTURES, PICTURES

2005-02-23T09:55:00.000-05:00

The majority of the pictures you'll see posted on this blog (with more to come) were taken with pleasure by myself and Captain Neal Weeks of Estero Bay Boat Tours, Inc. during some of the many cruises done throughout the year on Estero Bay in Southwest Florida (unless otherwise noted). The cameras used are the Kodak Easy Share DX4530 (5.0 mega pixels -- woo! woo!) and the Minolta Maxxum 5000i. Photos taken with the Minolta are scanned either with an old Mustek 600 CP scanner or the Lexmark P3150 All-in-One printer. Needless to say, I love going digital and have been busy during these two months of ownership of the Kodak in trying to wear the camera out. The big question and concern I have is how well will the camera withstand the salt air out in the bay. Only time will tell.

As you will note, the bulk of the pictures are (and will be) of some of the scenery of Estero Bay and the Estero and Imperial Rivers which flow into the bay, and the wildlife that calls this bay home. Estero Bay Boat Tours, Inc. (EBBT) conducts two hour sightseeing tours out on Estero Bay, showing Mother Nature to countless snowbirds, tourists, and residents. I work as a boat hand/mate with EBBT, a job that's been a real priviledge and a pleasure since December 2001. Where else can you see dolphin everyday? Not too many jobs have that benefit. And hopefully there will be many more years of this work to come ... otherwise I'll have to go out and get myself a "real" job again.

Working with EBBT out on Estero Bay has also been a very educational experience. Every trip out on the water reminds me that nothing in Nature is static, and there doesn't seem to be the balances in existence that environmentalists often talk about. Instead, Nature seems to prefer going from one extreme to another. And I have to wonder about some of the experts who earn a living studying various aspects of Nature. For example, one woman who studies night herons had claimed that their numbers were dwindling. We see them quite often, but her problem was that she went out on the bay during the day time (night herons are most active at night) and not very often. In my opinion, if you're going to study wildlife, you have to be out there every day, when and where the wildlife is.

'Nuff said for now.

2005-02-23T09:29:00.000-05:00

Big Fred and friends

Big Fred, called that because he's big freakin' red, is a Scarlet Ibis. He's something of an oddity here in Estero Bay since his native home is somewhere down in South America. He's more likely an escapee from the local Carribean Gardens, or formerly part of someone's private collection that decided to see the rest of Southwest Florida for himself.

The rest of the birds are White Ibises. And, yes, they can interbreed with each other; I've seen at least two bright pink Ibises flying aroung the area as a result. (Picture taken with a Minolta Maxxum 5000i camera)

2005-02-23T09:28:00.000-05:00

Sunset on the Gulf of Mexico

(Picture taken with Minolta Maxxum 5000i)
Photo shot at Big Carlos Pass. The trees in the background are part of Sanibel.

2005-02-23T09:26:00.000-05:00

Baby Brown Pelican

(Picture take with Minolta Maxxum 5000i)

2005-02-23T09:25:00.000-05:00

White Pelican

White Pelican vacationing in Estero Bay with some local Brown Pelicans.
(Picture taken with Minolta Maxxum 5000i)

2005-02-23T09:23:00.000-05:00

Great Blue Heron

Great Blue Budda of the bird world or a flasher? Actually the bird is sunning himself on the docks at Weeks Fish Camp, Bonita Springs, FL.
(Picture taken with Minolta Maxxum 5000i)

2005-02-23T09:18:00.000-05:00

Fidget

Don't let it fool you! This fur shark is actually a demon from Hell in disguise to whom I'm cursed with a lifelong sentence of personal servitude.
(Picture taken with Kodak Easy Share DX4530)

2005-02-23T09:13:00.000-05:00

Seagrape

Seagrape on Big Hickory Island in Estero Bay.
(Picture taken with Kodak Easy Share DX4530)

2005-02-23T09:11:00.000-05:00

Horseshoe crab

On the beach at Big Hickory Island.
(Picture taken with Kodak Easy Share DX4530)

2005-02-22T16:33:00.000-05:00

Immature Bald Eagle

This young eagle couldn't resist playing up to the camera. (Picture taken with Kodak Easy Share DX4530)

2005-02-22T16:30:00.000-05:00

Young opportunists looking for a handout.

Three immature brown pelicans sitting on a bait tank at Big Hickory Fishing Nook on Bonita Beach, Bonita Springs, FL. (Picture taken with Kodak Easy Share DX4530)

2005-02-22T08:46:00.000-05:00

Immature Brown Pelican

Getting eyeballed for getting too close. (Picture taken with Kodak Easy Share DX4530)

2005-02-22T08:43:00.000-05:00

Bird of Paradise

REAL Bird of Paradise flowers, not the fake ones they stick in with the plants at the nurseries. (Picture taken with Kodak Easy Share DX4530)

2005-02-22T08:39:00.000-05:00

Brown pelicans.

These two adult brown pelicans, sporting their winter plumage, are taking a noon day break on one of the many mangrove islands in Estero Bay.
(Picture taken with the Kodak Easy Share DX4530)

2005-02-22T08:32:00.000-05:00

Manatee playing with anchor rope.

Picture taken by Captain George Hann.
See, even manatee know the importance of flossing after every meal.

A REMINDER

2005-01-28T08:23:00.000-05:00

"To announce that there must be no criticism of the president, or that we are to stand by the president, right or wrong, is not only unpatriotic and servile, but is moraly treasonable to the American public."

-- President Theodore Roosevelt

LOSS OF COMMON SENSE

2005-01-02T14:56:00.000-05:00

After reading Col. Hackworth's recent column, A GUERILLA WAR, NOT A PICNIC, it appears to be business as usual for the military. There's a lot of "don'ts" in warfare that gets drilled into military personnel during peacetime, but when it's showtime out in the battlefield, these lessons seem to be forgottened or ignored. As a Marine lance corporal during the first Gulf War, I was amazed at how often recommended procedures and just simple basic common sense were thrown out the window.

At one time during preparations for the war, our unit had the whole inventory of our munitions located conveniently in one spot at the port. One rocket from Saddam would have ended our part in the war right there, leaving nothing behind but a huge crater where Al Jubayal use to be. We had the world's largest fuel depot--another disaster waiting to happen. Out in the field we had to salute officers, we had formations, and of course the communial chow hall. When we first moved out into the desert, it was blackout conditions and noise discipline; however, when we got closer to the enemy, those restrictions were dropped. In Kibrit, we had our equipment scattered all over the place in nice deep pits, but when we moved closer to the Kuwaiti border, they had use lining stuff up in nice neat rows above ground. The night before the ground offensive, our battalion CO had a huge gathering of Marines in my work area, under numerous spotlights which lit the area brighter than day, just to tell us that the fecal matter was going to hit the fan in a few short hours. The enemy was just a hop, jump, and skip from our position.

The tragedy of the nearly 100 Americans getting hit in the mess tent in Mosul, that's criminal. A little dose of common sense could have prevented that from happening. There's no excuse for it. Moreover, how do you explain to some father and/or mother why their son or daughter is dead? How do some of those officers live with themselves?

THE TEN COMMANDMENTS (MARINE CORPS EDITION)

2004-12-30T22:57:00.000-05:00

1. Thou shalt not think.

2. Thou shalt not place thy hands in thy pockets.

3. Thou shalt know thy chain of command and other missing links.

4. Thou shalt not laugh at 2nd lieutenants.

5. Thou shalt not use words beyond the comprehension of senior NCOs.

6. Thou shalt not laugh at RE-UP posters.

7. Thou shalt not do things in a reasonable manner.

8. Thou shalt not fear those of higher rank or scorn those of lower rank.

9. Thou shalt not speak without using profanity.

10. Thou shalt believe in non-existent benefits.

(author unknown)

THE DEFINITION OF A MARINE

2004-12-30T22:44:00.000-05:00

Over 226 years of romping, stomping, Hell, death, and destruction. The finest fighting machine the world has ever seen. We were born in a bomb crater. My mother was an M16, my father the devil. Each moment I live is an additional threat upon your life.

I'm a roguish looking, roving soldier of the sea. I am cocky, self-centered, over-bearing, and I do not know the meaning of fear for I am fear itself. I am a green amphibious monster made of blood and guts who arose from the sea, whose sole purpose in life is to perpetuate death and destruction upon the festering of anti-Americans throughout the globe whenever it may arise. And when my time comes, I'll die a glorious death on the battlefield giving my life to Mom, apple pie, and the American flag.

We stole the Eagle from the Air Force, the Anchor from the Navy, and the Rope from the Army. And on the seventh day while God rested, we overran His perimeter, and stole the Globe. We have been running the show ever since.

We live like soldiers, talk like sailors, and slap the hell out of the both of them. Soldier by day, lover by night, drunkard by choice, and Marine by God.

Semper Fidelis.
(author unknown)