Ladies, Please!

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I often wonder why they’re called the gentler sex. I’ve noticed that after say 18 or 19 Mojitos the most innocent of comments will suddenly erupt into a rougher version of MMA sanctioned cage-fighting and there is no mercy shown until someone gets unconscious. As a gentleman and someone concerned with their own personal safety you should never get in the middle of a situation like this unless you want your antlers pulled off. I like my antlers and therefore I normally stand off to the side until the paramedics get there.

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I’m not sure what this fracas was about but moments ago they were grazing side by side peacefully enough. I guess one of them said something about the other’s fur coat, I think it was “That’s a nice fur coat, didn’t they have it in your size?” and then it was on.

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It gets ugly from this point on and I hesitate to show you more as this is a family oriented website, (what the hell am I talking about, this isn’t a family oriented website), but I don’t see the need to be deliberately rude. We’re all adults here, we’ve heard some of the things females say to each other in the heat of the moment, but this is a Monday and I suppose we all have enough on our plate that we don’t need to be exposed to more reality nature.

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Once the altercation gets going however it becomes a force of nature, so to speak, and it will run it course. There is not much that can stop this explosion of female aggression unless you happen to be in a place that has a couple of Sumo wrestlers on staff and then they need to have a death wish. Even mad ladies have a hard time getting through 800 lbs. of Japanese hugeness although they will give it their best shot.

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I put this lack of decorum completely on the doorstep of a permissive society where anyone can say anything without any thought of the consequences and the expected reaction is out-and-out violence even by the most cultured, well-bred, ladylike members of the fair sex. These are difficult times we live in and I for one miss the old days of kindness and civility. So what if her coat isn’t the right size that’s no reason to be petty. It seems that beauty is no indication of good breeding. So be kind out there. Let’s think before we speak and if a provocative remark does slip out let’s try to be understanding and allow for the other’s imperfection, and if that doesn’t work try and get the first hoof in.

Here Lee-Zard Lee-Zard Lee-Zard

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Many of our hundreds upon hundreds, if not thousands of loyal readers, I lose count, have written in to ask ” Well, What HAS the Institute of Regained Knowledge or ‘IRK’ for short, been up to lately, Mr. Director Guy?” Amazing things, is the short answer, just amazing things. Our biggest success story lately has been in the field of Nuclear Radiation Transuppository Immolation of smaller defenseless species that don’t normally bite when you handle them. It is spear-headed by the renowned reptileologist Dr. Lee Zard, lately of the research lab at the Bubba Johnson Alligator farm and Ladies Accessories Outlet on route 16 and County Road C just outside Beulah, Alabama. One of our earliest projects, seen above, is currently under investigation, I mean being researched for long-term negligible effects by the FDA and is well on its way to becoming infamous, I mean well-known in the scientific world. But more on that in a moment, first a short informational recap for those new readers who have just recently joined us and are unaware of who and what the Institute of Regained Knowledge or ‘IRK’ is.

The Institute was founded by a shadowy, mysterious, but incredibly handsome individual who is disgustingly filthy rich with no visible means of support and wishes to remain anonymous. I can tell you his initials, which are Dwight Lutsey, I mean D L and he is mostly known for his Paleoentropic, uh Philistinal, uh Prolapsic, what the hell is that word that means a guy that gives away money for no good reason when he should be saving it for when he’s homeless and out on the street in the rain living in a cardboard box, oh yeah, Philanthropist, that’s what I mean, and has dedicated his life to bringing the world new scientific knowledge that someone else has done the really hard work of developing and rehashing it so it looks original, I mean presenting it in a form that the normal Wal-Mart shopper can understand. We have a staff of highly trained, well documented people that have lots of letters behind their names and come from prestigious organizations that we couldn’t get into with a new fifty dollar bill. Our areas of research are nearly too many to list and if it weren’t for our ability to con the government, I mean apply for the numerous grants that are available to organizations such as ours, we would have trouble keeping up even with the support of our generous benefactor. The location of the Institute is a closely guarded secret known only to the County Assessment Office and some members of the general Public. This is to keep that group of itinerant researchers and other riff-raff from storming our gates to get in on the action.

But back to the subject at hand. The small reptile pictured above known as ‘Tyrone Lizardopticus’ was originally approximately four inches long, I’m not sure what that is in centimeters, (is that eight feet or nineteen inches, you just can’t tell, I seen grown mathematicians cry when they have to convert that idiot system to the real numbers we use, that’s why the good old system of feet and inches has made America the leader it is today), and kinda scary looking when it would open its mouth, but after treatment from Dr. Zard it is now about the size of a Buick and still growing, (this is the part that got the FDA interested), and it is mean. Really mean. Apparently the treatment, Nuclear Radiation Transuppository Immolation, is painful, even though Dr. Zard says it isn’t. Of course he has never undergone the treatment himself. Couple that with the fact that Reptiles have long memories and never forgive anything, and it makes for a nasty ill-tempered creature totally bent on world destruction.

So far the experiment had been tightly controlled with many safeguards in place and a definite well structured, monitored routine. We would let it, the staff has taken to calling it ‘IT’ out of its cavern to get the sun, feed it live chickens which soon became goats then the occasional Elk and now Dr. Zard tells me we are running out of options food-wise and by the way he has an urgent project starting up in the Sinai and will be leaving soon to head that up. The situation hasn’t become desperate yet but I have made a call to our friends at Cheyenne Mountain to track this thing if it begins to head for Tokyo. I have some of our researchers working on finding out what DefCon 4 means. All I’ve been told by the officials there is to make evacuation plans. With the amount of stuff this thing eats the last thing we need is some kind of evacuation plan. Cleaning up the compound, I mean Campus around the entrance to its cavern has become problematic already, we don’t need to give it any help, evacuation-wise. And this stuff glows. So far we have lost three members of our clean up team, we’re not sure if its radiation sickness or they been got. Storage has been troublesome but luckily the compound, I mean Campus is near a deep ravine called Nevergothere so we can use the Institutes’ D-9 to push it over the edge. Unfortunately the D-9 has begun glowing and the driver won’t go near it. He says his hair is falling out.

Not one to become depressed by life’s little set backs we still have high hopes for the satisfactory conclusion of this project. However we are a little dismayed by the fact that Dr.Zard took all of his notes with him which are the intellectual property of the Institute by the way and now we are unsure of the next feeding step. We have contracted with some of the locals zoos for obtaining their sick and dying elephant population but due to the fact that most of those elephants are disgustingly healthy it does not look promising. But don’t worry, the folks at Cheyenne Mountain have said that there will be plenty of warning for the general public if they have to go “Hot” whatever that means. So stay tuned, film at eleven.

Silence For As Far As The Eye Can See

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Quiet. You like quiet? I do, but where to find it, that’s the bazillion dollar question. It used to be that quiet was every where, in your backyard, down at the park, over at Uncle Skid’s boat dock early in the morning, you could lift the rug up in the dining room and what would you find? Quiet. Just laying there in a big pile not doing a thing. You didn’t have to go looking for it. I sat in my favorite chair the other day, reading, drinking a cup of Jasmine tea, just listening, trying to isolate the different noises I was hearing. Even with the TV off and no radio on there were noises everywhere. The refrigerator would kick on, there were hums and other soft sounds from stuff I didn’t even know was running. Noises from outside made their way inside and I’ve got really thick walls because the big house here is made of logs. It was a constant battering of sound. I thought back to where and when I had last heard nothing but silence.

It was in Monument Valley, that incredible place where the total experience can overwhelm all of your senses before you even get a chance to go “Whoa!, Man, it’s quiet here’.  It is one of the places where you can find true silence. In fact there is so much quiet here it’s deafening. Sometimes you have to put up with some tourists, I didn’t say the quiet was constant, or wait until that herd of goats makes it way over the dune, or for that lizard to scuttle back under the rock outcropping, but mostly it is quiet, really, really quiet. The wind will blow but there is so much space it can’t begin to fill it and you hardly notice it.

If you want to experience this go to Monument Valley, late spring is a good time as it’s not too hot yet, the crowds are still back home being noisy, and find John Ford’s Point, that’s the picture up there at the top of the page, walk out a bit, find a shady spot against the cliff wall and sit. Soon your ear drums will stop spasm-ing from the constant bombardment of civilization and the quiet will come down on you like a Tsunami. Some people can’t stand it when this happens and they run off screaming into the desert with their hands over their ears, never to be heard from again. It’s a good bet they didn’t really want to hear silence anyway and probably should have just stayed home with the TV playing softly in the background. If looking out over all that quiet is too much for you and it seems that you can’t take it all in, just squint a little or even close your eyes for a moment and you’ll settle out. Sometimes you have to ease into this new stuff. But if experiencing quiet is what you want to do, you know what to do now, you know where to go, so just do it. And remember, no iPods, that’s cheating, you can wear sunglasses though, that’s accepted.

Summertime Blues

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It’s hot out here on the prairie in the summer. That’s the way summer is, but today feels different. Today the air is still, unnaturally quiet and there is an oppressive feel to it as if the air got suddenly heavier. The chickens have all found places to roost and there isn’t a sound out of any of them, even the old rooster has gone silent. The light has gone different too, going from the usual bright blue to a kind of sullen blue-grey color with a tinge of green that doesn’t feel right. Mom’s in the house getting ready to start canning. It’s been a struggle to keep the rabbits and deer out of the garden and she’s got to save what she has harvested so far. Dad’s out in the field trying his damnest to get the seed in before the rain hits. Claude and Old Bill don’t like the clouds forming or the way it has got quiet all of a sudden and they are hard to keep straight. Dad has been giving them hell. Seed’s expensive and it has to go down right or the yield won’t be there.

If you look close you can see skinny little kids with angular faces and very serious expressions playing out behind the shed. They had been hitting something with sticks a little while before, you couldn’t see what it was but whatever it was they were intent on making its life miserable. They’re not bad kids but a hard life makes for hard play.

The shed door started banging against its hinges as the wind kicked up and inside the cow is pulling against its rope. It doesn’t like the feeling in the air and wants outside. It’s only a little after noon and the sky is darkening for as far as you can see. These clouds mean only one thing and it is the worst thing you can have besides fire. Their rounded, puffy bottoms are a prelude to one of the great devastations visited on this land. Off in the far forty Dad is turning the team towards home. He’s about to turn them loose and jump on back of old Bill to beat the wind and get everybody rounded up. Mom has shut down the stove and damped the fire, canning can wait.

With everybody accounted for and Dad home cutting the horses loose to fend for themselves it’s time to pull open the root cellar door and enter the cool earthy smelling darkness. Mom brought the loaf of bread from the oven and her bible, Dad’s got the kerosene lantern lit and the kids are staring wide-eyed at the last sliver of daylight as the cellar door gets pulled down tight and locked. Maybe next year if everything goes right  they can get an electric light down there but I guess that would only last until the twister took out the power poles so maybe they’ll save their money. The littlest one is hanging on to her sister and listening as if her life depended on it as her brother tells how the twister will sound like a freight train from hell as it passes by and maybe suck them right up out of the ground if it has a mind to. Lots of people have been sucked up out of the ground, blown away and just killed, he says, but his big sister says Dad won’t let that happen and he should just shush. Besides he was the one that wet his pants the last time he was so scared so he shouldn’t be trying to scare any one else.

If they’re lucky the twister will miss the house and the out buildings and their livestock will make it. So far they’ve been lucky. This isn’t their first storm but it doesn’t get easier with each one, just the opposite in fact. Dry land farming and life out here in general is a tough way to make it go what with the drought, the fires, the winds, the dust storms, the grasshoppers and the tornadoes. This is real Grapes of Wrath stuff here, gritty, hard-edged and no holds barred life on the plains but these are strong people and they have faith they can make it. I believe they can too, but it’s going to be a long afternoon none the less.