Over the past few days, I've been catching bits and pieces of the news coverage surrounding the Charleston church shooting. I think we can all agree that that it was a senseless tragedy. Because of a dimwitted, racist piece of dog-shit, nine Charleston families are now preparing to bury their loved ones.
Before the smoke had even cleared, the usual suspects stepped onto their political soapboxes and started the predictable banter. The gun control crowd quickly hijacked the situation to push their "evil gun" narrative. These folks always like to blame to gun as if it's capable of pulling it's own trigger. The shooter in this case, Dylann Roof, was responsible for this massacre. Period.
Former Maryland Governor Owe'Malley, in an email to his supporters, said that the NRA blamed the victims for their own deaths. Come on, do you really think that they said that? In the email, he also reiterated that he was "pissed" about inaction by Congress on gun control. He used the opportunity to beat his chest about Maryland's stricter gun control laws in which he played a part. Yeah, those laws are really making a positive difference in places like Baltimore, huh?
As predictable as the gun-grabbers, the race-hustlers quickly sprung into action. Was this a racially motivated crime? Absolutely! But what does that have to do with anyone else? The overwhelming majority of whites are equally outraged and sickened by Roof's actions. That sick bastard doesn't represent anyone except himself. So, it really pisses me off when I hear the race-baiters acting as if Roof's heinous act is representative of whites in general.
I've even heard that Fox News was being blamed for the shooting. I guess there was a subliminal message on The O'Reilly Factor that the rest of us somehow missed?
Moving right along, there is now a big push to have the Confederate flag removed from the grounds of the South Carolina state capital. While this flag has been a lightning rod of controversy for a long time, it's now being (at least partly) blamed for the Charleston tragedy. Striking while the iron's hot, it creates an opportune time for the flag's critics to plead their case. The Governor of South Carolina, Nikki Haley, along with the state's two US Senator's, Lindsey Graham and Tim Scott (all Republicans) have called for the complete removal of the flag. We'll see if the movement gains traction in the upcoming days.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
On Friday, I listened to the victims families express forgiveness for Roof. I have to admit, it was very touching. It takes a big person to forgive someone in this type of situation, especially so soon after it happened. While I doubt that I could do it, I truly admire their resolve.
In has been reported that Dylann Roof, by slaughtering these nine innocent people, was attempting to start a race war. But after watching the outpouring of support and sympathy for the victims' families by people of all colors, it looks like his actions may have actually had an adverse effect. At least, that's what we can hope for....
kw
Monday, June 22, 2015
Thursday, June 18, 2015
The Tick Doctor
It's that time of the year when we often find ourselves out in the back yard. And whether we're cutting the grass, working in the garden or just lounging around, there's a good chance that we might encounter one of those dreaded ticks. If you're lucky, you'll notice it before it finds it's way to your bloodstream. But that's not always the case......
Recently, Tina discovered one of these parasitic creatures on her. As luck would have it, the tick had buried it's head under her skin, It was in a spot that she couldn't reach, so she asked me to perform the extraction. Probably not the wisest move on her part, considering that I'm not really the woodsman type. Plus, I don't really like bugs. But, nonetheless, I accepted the challenge.
I had once heard that coating the tick with oil would cause it to "come up for air" and release it's grip. So, I retreated to the bathroom to collect my supplies. I rounded up some baby oil, a jar of Vaseline and a tube of Banana Boat sunscreen. I figured it never hurts to be over-prepared. As I came out of the bathroom, Tina rolled her eyes and said, "Are you kidding me? Just grab a pair of tweezers!"
Feeling a bit rejected, I returned to the bathroom to retrieve the tweezers. Since I had no real medical experience, I secretly Googled "how to remove a tick" on my smartphone. According to what I read, the trick is to grab the tick as close to the head as possible and gently pull. Feeling somewhat confident, I came back out of the bathroom with tweezers in hand. (A surgeon's mask would have been a really cool addition but I didn't have one handy.) As I approached "the patient", I slipped on my reading glasses and said, "OK, let's have a look at this thing."
I gingerly poked at the tick. It clearly had no plans plans on going anywhere anytime soon. So, I grabbed him with the tweezers and gave a gentle tug. He was a stubborn little bastard. Acting somewhat insubordinate, Tina instructed me to "just pull him until he came out". By the way, who's the doctor here?
I grabbed the tick and pulled. He still wasn't coming out! How could this little thing be so strong? Could he possibly be on steroids? Getting frustrated, I grabbed him one last time and pulled extra hard. I nearly fell on my ass as the resistance gave way. Feeling like I just took down a water buffalo, I proudly displayed my trophy to Tina. As she studied the tick, I sensed that something wasn't quite right. Upon further review, it appeared that I was holding a headless tick in my tweezers. And that could only mean one thing: the head was still under Tina's skin. Now what?
Figuring the situation was now similar to removing a splinter, I retreated to the garage to grab my utility knife. As I returned with my scalpel, Tina stopped me and said, "You're not getting anywhere near me with that thing!" I just stood there looking dejected as if my medical license had just been revoked.
I ultimately wound up poking around a little more with a sewing needle but the effort was futile. I couldn't get the damned thing out. At this rate, Tina was going to need a Tetanus shot from the invading sewing needle. So, I reluctantly threw in the towel....
When it was all said and done, Tina wound up going to the doctor to have the tick's head removed. I couldn't help but feel somewhat responsible. But, hey, at least I tried.....
kw
Recently, Tina discovered one of these parasitic creatures on her. As luck would have it, the tick had buried it's head under her skin, It was in a spot that she couldn't reach, so she asked me to perform the extraction. Probably not the wisest move on her part, considering that I'm not really the woodsman type. Plus, I don't really like bugs. But, nonetheless, I accepted the challenge.
I had once heard that coating the tick with oil would cause it to "come up for air" and release it's grip. So, I retreated to the bathroom to collect my supplies. I rounded up some baby oil, a jar of Vaseline and a tube of Banana Boat sunscreen. I figured it never hurts to be over-prepared. As I came out of the bathroom, Tina rolled her eyes and said, "Are you kidding me? Just grab a pair of tweezers!"
Feeling a bit rejected, I returned to the bathroom to retrieve the tweezers. Since I had no real medical experience, I secretly Googled "how to remove a tick" on my smartphone. According to what I read, the trick is to grab the tick as close to the head as possible and gently pull. Feeling somewhat confident, I came back out of the bathroom with tweezers in hand. (A surgeon's mask would have been a really cool addition but I didn't have one handy.) As I approached "the patient", I slipped on my reading glasses and said, "OK, let's have a look at this thing."
I gingerly poked at the tick. It clearly had no plans plans on going anywhere anytime soon. So, I grabbed him with the tweezers and gave a gentle tug. He was a stubborn little bastard. Acting somewhat insubordinate, Tina instructed me to "just pull him until he came out". By the way, who's the doctor here?
I grabbed the tick and pulled. He still wasn't coming out! How could this little thing be so strong? Could he possibly be on steroids? Getting frustrated, I grabbed him one last time and pulled extra hard. I nearly fell on my ass as the resistance gave way. Feeling like I just took down a water buffalo, I proudly displayed my trophy to Tina. As she studied the tick, I sensed that something wasn't quite right. Upon further review, it appeared that I was holding a headless tick in my tweezers. And that could only mean one thing: the head was still under Tina's skin. Now what?
Figuring the situation was now similar to removing a splinter, I retreated to the garage to grab my utility knife. As I returned with my scalpel, Tina stopped me and said, "You're not getting anywhere near me with that thing!" I just stood there looking dejected as if my medical license had just been revoked.
I ultimately wound up poking around a little more with a sewing needle but the effort was futile. I couldn't get the damned thing out. At this rate, Tina was going to need a Tetanus shot from the invading sewing needle. So, I reluctantly threw in the towel....
When it was all said and done, Tina wound up going to the doctor to have the tick's head removed. I couldn't help but feel somewhat responsible. But, hey, at least I tried.....
kw
Wednesday, June 10, 2015
Bouncing Through the Colorado Skies
Whenever you plan a trip that requires air travel, you never really know what awaits you. If all the pieces fall into place, you arrive at your destination on time without any unforeseen mishaps. But as we know, this is a rarity. And this brings us to my latest trip to Denver.
I've flown to Denver many times over the years. Up until now, my biggest adventure was being nearly crushed by a wannabe sumo wrestler (see my blog post entitled "Big Man in the Middle"*). But this particular flight took things to a whole new level.
As we left Baltimore and reached cruising attitude, the pilot announced that we would be arriving in Denver about 30 minutes ahead of schedule. I was delighted to hear this as it would give me a little extra time to spend in one of the local brewpubs. But, in reality, I should have known that the pilot's announcement was too good to be true.
As we approached Denver International Airport (DIA), the pilot announced that there were thunderstorms in the area, so we should brace for some turbulence. It didn't take long before the plane was bouncing through the clouds like a Tilt-A-Whirl. I hadn't experienced this much turbulence since the last time I drove over the Hanover Street bridge.. At any second, I was expecting the overhead bins to pop open and rain down a storm of oversize carry-ons.
Before long, the pilot came back on and announced that DIA was temporary closed due to the lightning from the storm. So, we would be stuck in a holding pattern for about 40 minutes. So much for arriving 30 minutes early. Knowing that we'd be tossed through the turbulent air for another 40 minutes, I instinctively reached for the barf bag. But apparently, they don't supply these things any more.
The pilot made another announcement and instructed everyone to remain in their seats with their seat-belts fastened. A minute later, a couple of young kids felt the need to pee. So, against better judgement, their mother sends them down the aisle towards the bathroom. They looked like a couple of superballs as they bounced off of several seated passengers.. Watching them stagger down the aisle made me reminisce about the first time I had tequila. Eventually, the kids emerged from the bathroom and bounced back to their seats without any serious injuries.
A few minutes later, the kids' little brother decided he wanted to stand in the middle of the aisle. The boy, who I'm guessing was about three years old, had been spontaneously screaming during much of the flight. So, I guess the mother figured as long as he stayed quiet, it made perfect sense to let him stand in the middle of the aisle even after the pilot told everyone to take their seats. At one point, the kid nearly tripped one of the flight attendants as they made they're way down the aisle to collect trash.
After about 30 minutes, the pilot comes back on and tells us that DIA is still closed and we're running out of fuel. Running out of gas is never a good thing but having it happen at 15,000 feet puts in in a new perspective.. Running on fumes above Denver, the pilot announced that we were being diverted to the Colorado Springs airport to refuel..This brought a chorus of sighs from the cabin. This would add at least two more hours to the trip. This really pissed off a few people. They were bitching and calling it "unacceptable". I felt like grabbing them by the neck and asking, "Hey Einstein, do you know that if we don't get fuel, we're going to drop out the freggin' sky?!?"
Agghh!
We eventually landed in Colorado Springs. Immediately, several irate people wanted to get off of the plane. The flight attendants explained that if they got off, they would not be permitted to get back on. After they confirmed that they understood the rules, the airport staff located a set of mobile steps, and they were allowed to deplane. Of course, this added a little more time to the trip for the majority of the passengers.. Feeling tired, nauseous and hungry, I almost felt like getting off the plane myself. But serving as some type of divine intervention, an attractive woman in tight yoga pants kept getting up and stretching. I'm not sure if she was doing it on purpose, but it definitely seemed to serve as a much needed diversion for any guys within gawking distance.
After about an hour, we took off from the short runway in Colorado Springs and we headed back into the turbulent skies. After another prolonged series of bumps, we finally started to make our descent into Denver. When the plane touched down, the pilot, who had a heavy French accent, announced, "Ahhhhhh, we're finally here." As irritated as we all were, we couldn't help laugh. Although we were several hours late, we had arrived safely. And that's gotta count for something.....
kw
* http://kensmouthpiece.blogspot.com/2013/05/big-man-in-middle.html
I've flown to Denver many times over the years. Up until now, my biggest adventure was being nearly crushed by a wannabe sumo wrestler (see my blog post entitled "Big Man in the Middle"*). But this particular flight took things to a whole new level.
As we left Baltimore and reached cruising attitude, the pilot announced that we would be arriving in Denver about 30 minutes ahead of schedule. I was delighted to hear this as it would give me a little extra time to spend in one of the local brewpubs. But, in reality, I should have known that the pilot's announcement was too good to be true.
As we approached Denver International Airport (DIA), the pilot announced that there were thunderstorms in the area, so we should brace for some turbulence. It didn't take long before the plane was bouncing through the clouds like a Tilt-A-Whirl. I hadn't experienced this much turbulence since the last time I drove over the Hanover Street bridge.. At any second, I was expecting the overhead bins to pop open and rain down a storm of oversize carry-ons.
Before long, the pilot came back on and announced that DIA was temporary closed due to the lightning from the storm. So, we would be stuck in a holding pattern for about 40 minutes. So much for arriving 30 minutes early. Knowing that we'd be tossed through the turbulent air for another 40 minutes, I instinctively reached for the barf bag. But apparently, they don't supply these things any more.
The pilot made another announcement and instructed everyone to remain in their seats with their seat-belts fastened. A minute later, a couple of young kids felt the need to pee. So, against better judgement, their mother sends them down the aisle towards the bathroom. They looked like a couple of superballs as they bounced off of several seated passengers.. Watching them stagger down the aisle made me reminisce about the first time I had tequila. Eventually, the kids emerged from the bathroom and bounced back to their seats without any serious injuries.
A few minutes later, the kids' little brother decided he wanted to stand in the middle of the aisle. The boy, who I'm guessing was about three years old, had been spontaneously screaming during much of the flight. So, I guess the mother figured as long as he stayed quiet, it made perfect sense to let him stand in the middle of the aisle even after the pilot told everyone to take their seats. At one point, the kid nearly tripped one of the flight attendants as they made they're way down the aisle to collect trash.
After about 30 minutes, the pilot comes back on and tells us that DIA is still closed and we're running out of fuel. Running out of gas is never a good thing but having it happen at 15,000 feet puts in in a new perspective.. Running on fumes above Denver, the pilot announced that we were being diverted to the Colorado Springs airport to refuel..This brought a chorus of sighs from the cabin. This would add at least two more hours to the trip. This really pissed off a few people. They were bitching and calling it "unacceptable". I felt like grabbing them by the neck and asking, "Hey Einstein, do you know that if we don't get fuel, we're going to drop out the freggin' sky?!?"
Agghh!
We eventually landed in Colorado Springs. Immediately, several irate people wanted to get off of the plane. The flight attendants explained that if they got off, they would not be permitted to get back on. After they confirmed that they understood the rules, the airport staff located a set of mobile steps, and they were allowed to deplane. Of course, this added a little more time to the trip for the majority of the passengers.. Feeling tired, nauseous and hungry, I almost felt like getting off the plane myself. But serving as some type of divine intervention, an attractive woman in tight yoga pants kept getting up and stretching. I'm not sure if she was doing it on purpose, but it definitely seemed to serve as a much needed diversion for any guys within gawking distance.
After about an hour, we took off from the short runway in Colorado Springs and we headed back into the turbulent skies. After another prolonged series of bumps, we finally started to make our descent into Denver. When the plane touched down, the pilot, who had a heavy French accent, announced, "Ahhhhhh, we're finally here." As irritated as we all were, we couldn't help laugh. Although we were several hours late, we had arrived safely. And that's gotta count for something.....
kw
* http://kensmouthpiece.blogspot.com/2013/05/big-man-in-middle.html