Old trees, old grandpa’s, and old gators. A lot in common.
Weathered much strife, gnarled appearance, dependent on the kindness of others – and just want a quiet place in the sun.
Most a bit fond of them despite their rough edges,
An alligator update so you won’t worry.
What a weekend. Hope they have my room ready. Getting too old for bachelor parties. (click2houston.com screenshot)
The giant gator captured in a Sugar Land Home Depot parking lot was released into his new home at an El Campo alligator farm (Janik Alligators, I think).
His new best friend, gator hunter Christy Krobroth and her partner Chris, transported him in style.
The gator, estimated over 50 years old, is blind in one eye and the other is hazed over. He may only see shadows, so it’s possible he got confused when searching for Gatorade.
He’s missing about 12 inches of his tail. (Still over 12 feet and over 800 pounds)
Here’s the video of his arrival. (And Christy talks more about gator rescue.)
He even managed to let himself out of the truck. (You know old guys. They hate for everyone to be rushing around trying to help.)
While he didn’t end up among the rough and tumble young alligators at Brazos Bend State Park, he’s safe and will be watch over in perhaps a more suitable retirement community.
A place in the sun. Hopefully, with a few friends who care.
He’s done all right.
Later, gator.
Phil, the Philosopher Mouse of the Hedge
(Previous post and pictures about Godzilla Gator of Sugar Land here.)
Landscaping is acceptable. Now off to see if the pool is up to standards…(Click2houston.com screenshot)
Beautiful flashes at warp speed, no passive passengers these.
“Attention, Home Depot shoppers/”(ChristyKrobroth/screenshot.abc13.com)
This older gentleman out for a stroll along Oyster Creek. Was he hoping his grin would beguile? He’s used to the wild life.
A mild-mannered dental assistant by day, but a feisty gator grabber when called, one gal thought the older guy would tire long before her. Athletic is her style. A quick wit is her charm.
“Beauty is power; a smile is its’ sword.” (John Ray)
Something about a woman with a rope.(ChristyKrobroth/screenshot.ABC13.com)
It always happens. Those old guys fall for the pretty young things.
She said, “Let’s get out of here. I’ll give you a lift.”
Still smiling, he was quite content be carried off to a little resort she knew.
Not all parties end in smiles and miles.
Beauty can be a beast.
“Beauty is only skin deep, but ugly goes clean to the bone.” (Dorothy Parker)
This little after school brawl was quite a beaut. Middle school girls and some passing for adults are so into extreme drama.
One participant didn’t read the complete script. Decided to go full throttle.
Fists and hair pulling weren’t getting anywhere, so how about a four-wheel rundown?
“VIDEO.Teen run over by car following chick fight outside school.”
It’s written down that “Beauty is as beauty does.”
But apparently she didn’t read that either.
“Beauty fades. Dumb is forever.” (Judge Judy Sheindlin)
Complex beauty.(Vincent Lafore/Screenshot CBS Sunday Morning)
If reading long passages, fables, and proverbs are becoming passé (Who has the time?), then striking high impact visuals could become the preferred vehicle of information delivery.
Might be better. We look better from afar?
“The truth is not always beautiful, nor beautiful words, the truth.” (Lao Tzu, Tao Te Ching)
Distance gives a different perspective.
High flying photographer Vincent Laforte sees the beauty of that.
His work may be the best advertisement for one beautiful little world.
“Let us live for our own reality.” (Charles Lamb)
Beauty eyes those beholding.
Pretty thought.
Phil, the Philosopher Mouse of the Hedge
And now a blast from the past:
Hiding from what? An urban cattle rustler. (Children’s Museum Art Cow/screenshot.ABC 13.com)
Round up the posse. Missing moo.
Would have loved to hear that conversation late Tuesday night:
“It followed me home. Can I keep it?”
Adult in the house or at least the sober one, “Don’t care where you rounded or pried it up from, no. Take it back.”
” But it’s heavy and I’m tired.”
“Dude. It’s from the Children’s Museum. Stealing from little kids is pretty low. At least put it where someone will find it – not here!”
Moostery Story and pictures of the stolen, but recovered Border Bovine Art Cow here.
Cows certainly have changed.
Who couldn’t love MoonWalking Cow. At one time pastured in Terminal A of Bush IAH airport. (Screenshot.Image: Campbell/Hou.Chron.)
Once it was “Outlaw meets outlaw” every weekend in October at the Prison Rodeo in Huntsville, Texas.
Enjoy what news reporting was like back in 1966:
.Vintage black and white newsreel featuring the Texas Prison Rodeo. US National Archives and Records Administration. (The jokes on the prisoners’ banners were always fun)
My grandfather who died before I was born, moved his family off the farm into the town of Huntsville so his oldest boy could attend Sam Houston College. They ran a two-story wood frame boarding house which is still standing and still houses college students. While he worked as a prison guard, the younger boys helped by throwing papers, washing dishes, and trying to spot Bonnie and Clyde who stopped by the local cafe on the courthouse square for meals once in a while. While not liked or admired, the pair certainly had people terrified of their guns and reputation.
Each October, extra money was made selling parking spots in the front yard for the Prison Rodeo. People flocked from miles around for the event.
The Texas Prison Rodeo was the “Wildest Show Behind Bars”.
Not only was it real dirt in your face rodeo, you were inside the prison with prisoners! Dangerous convicts!
Big deal for kids. As I remember, it was thrilling.
Should the grounds have been preserved as historical?
First rodeo performance was in Oct 1931 with a wooden stadium on the old prison baseball field. In the 50’s and 60’s attendance could easily reach 100,000. Quite a money-maker for the prison system and gave the inmates a chance to earn some money, too. The traffic into town was always bumper to bumper. The last show in the “new” big brick and concrete building was in 1986.
The rodeo was actually created as recreation for inmates.
Now they only have team sports in softball, volleyball, and baseball. Inmates do still raise and train horses for law enforcement at one of the Huntsville units. And others foster and train dogs for service animals. Working with animals is considered a privilege. It’s a toss-up whether animal or inmate caretaker gets more out of the experience.
Read stories/pictures of actual rodeo prison inmates, the prison entertainers, as well as top name performers including Dolly Parton and Willie Nelson:
- “Razing of Prison Rodeo Arena In Huntsville Closed the Door on History” (NY Times, 2012)
- “Texas Prison Rodeo” Yes, inmates did try to escape….(TX State Historical Association/Handbook of Texas Online.)
- “A look back at the Texas Prison Rodeo” (Texas Monthly, 2012)
As the sun slowly sets in the west, missing moo.
So long for a sweetheart of a rodeo,
Phil, the Philosopher Mouse of the Hedge
1949. Now that’s bull. At this time, the bulls and horses all came from prison’s pasture stock.(Texas Tribune image)
What’s with the colorful presentation?©
Why are the rainbows indoors?
Marketing. New firm hired by Mother Nature to raise awareness of what she offers.
Or you know how people leave business cards on your desk if they stop by and you are absent or are too busy to notice? That. A reminder.
Another sunset. Another day broken and forgotten.(Forgotten Overpass FB)
Why do Facebook pages get better results from TXDOT than actual people?
It’s been so long, drivers were beginning to wonder if it was a new national monument.
The Forgotten Overpass Facebook page tells the sorrow. Road construction workers came to do repairs, but did something causing entire middle span to drop. Exit workers. For months.
Nobody likes to get caught after making a mess – especially contractors and those in the state agency who hired them.
Out of desperation, residents contacted consumer reporter Emily Akin. Story/video: Emily Akin. “The Forgotten Overpass”. Geesh, Louise, TX, nothing like a little media attention for a quick pick me up.
Oh, Oscar. The magic of free is disappearing. (1976 USPD/Commons.wikimedia.org)
Why do Chicago residents think they shouldn’t have to pay for garbage pick up?
Never heard of the “Pay as You Go Plan” like most people?
Or refuse to believe it applies to them. (It is the land of politicians and presidents, so confusion understandable.)
“Rahm Emanuel wants to start charging for trash pickup in Chicago” (Business Insider)
“Garbage tax still not as much as suburban fees” (Chicago Tribune)
Speaking of garbage.
Don’t wipe. Always hammer before landfill.©
Could get really snarky and ask why anyone, especially one who boasts she is a mother and a proud, concerned grandmother, could look grieving parents in the face and lie like a rug about how it happened and blamed an “offensive video”continually. Think she is fit to run for any office even ignoring all the other messes while she served as Secretary of State? Ignoring being thought out of touch/ignorant or careless about technology and security measures/devious/smug and entitled.
“Emails show Clinton had 2 Benghazi stories: 1 for Libyans, 1 for Americans”
Emails to Egyptian Prime Minister, the Libyan President, (…attack in Libya had nothing to do with the film It was a planned attack, not a protest.”) and immediately after the attack to her daughter, Chelsea. (“…the attacks were undertaken by an “Al Queda-like group.”)
Walmart asks more integrity of their greeters.
Now there’s an answer: draft a Walmart greeter for president.
Someone really in touch with ordinary people.
Someone used to working long hours for little reward.
Now some would sneer he’d have big business standing behind him. But realistically, anyone who’s been an employee or supplier for Walmart completely understands abuses by big multinational businesses.
Candidate ready: got that big smile mastered and can already loudly shout “Clean-up needed on aisle three!”
See? Everything’s coming up sunshine and rainbows.
All in the marketing.
Lightly fractured and perfectly answered.
Phil, the Philosopher Mouse of the Hedge.
Preview for coming attractions. After days of torrents, one of the brightest rainbows I’ve seen – all the way across the sky for about 10 minutes. Then the storms continued for the rest of the night.©
He was determined she’d not end up walking the streets as is the fashion of so many young girls. Having seen enough of the world to be wary, she never complained when he tied the rope. Daddy knew best.
Prada quietly played in her own yard as she had been told to while her dad was at work. Until the day when the world crashed in on her.
May only be named for royalty, but certainly not a throwaway. (Thomas Schmidt/Commons.wikimedia.org)
A violent incident you may remember. First Prada was dognapped, then used as a shield…well, actually tossed like a boulder, then shot by police. Left bleeding in the dirt with wounds deep enough to show bone while the police cars drove away with their prisoner.
Her owner, Robert Alexander, was distraught upon finding his injured pit bull. He tried to treat Prada himself, but soon realized it wasn’t working. And she was in pain. There simply wasn’t any money.
(Forgotten the injured pit bull’s video? Grab your tissues.)
Thanks to Pit Bull Rescue of Houston and Vergi Animal Hospital, Prada stepped out towards home this weekend.
And best news of all? She bounces on all fours!
Intense care managed to avoid the expected amputation. The medical and rehab bills were completely covered by public donations, Pit Bull Rescue of Houston, and the clinic’s Hope Fund.
Even better news?
Prada’s owner has rented a house with a very tall iron fence all around it. But, he said as he hugged Prada, “She’s an indoor dog now.”
Cheer the happy reunion and visit Prada at her new digs.
Some step out with style, while others….
Just when you thought the horror was over…©
No, not Crocs.
(What? One manufacturer of uglies isn’t enough? Heard those groans.)
These are Yogui by Keen.
See: like yoga. So they are OK.
Desirable even. (And the emperor has no clothes…..)
When living in an area where the backyard can quickly turn into a swamp with the gleefully dogs refusing to listen and come inside, you need kick-off shoes. Ones that easily wash. And there’s the floating potential, too.
These come in both women’s and men’s styles (some colorful ones.) Know you are thrilled about that.
Wait! They have cool soles, actually fit, and support your foot unlike Crocs.
My experiences with Crocs is that those are like wearing giant rubber shoe boxes on your feet.
Form follows function. Zipper gives easy on and off, similar open slashes allow water to drain, but the spiked heel would really sink in soggy ground. So, no.(www.prada.com)
Perhaps a horrifying fashion departure, but clown shoes do have a place.
Like possums, spiders, and snakes which play a critical roles in nature. (So they keep telling me.)
Shoes aren’t alive, but it’s the same thing. Really.
There are always those who have to do the dirty work and are looked down on.
Work with me here. Or at least be kind enough to laugh waaaay over there.
Frank-n-flippers. Zappos offers pages of reviews by people delighted with them.
Most by anonymous reviewers.
Shame? Guilt? Trying to save the family name and dignity? Probably.
Not that anyone needs to be embarrassed about wearing Yogui this time of year. You can always say they were part of your Halloween costume.
Horror be done. Steppin’ out in guile.
Phil, the Philosopher Mouse of the Hedge.
Previous posts about Prada
- “Designer name, no protection. Modern Miss.“(Prada’s story breaks on the networks)
- “Pampered Prada. Designed to cheer.“(Recovering at vet.)
Prada: shoo-in for lucky dog.(Vasquez/Pit Bull Rescue of Houston Facebook)
Again. Standing at the back door.
Completely dressed. Neatly. She couldn’t have managed all those buttons herself.
What’s with that child?
What? A sleep-walker? Can’t we ever have normal neighbors?©
Always so early.Too early. A light needed to even make coffee.
“Look, kid. Go home. No one’s ready to play.”
Obviously on the brink of tears, she wavered from side to side. Softy pleading. Eyes desperate.
Awkward.
Where does she belong and why aren’t they keeping up with her?
I turned. Went to check on our own, although I know there’s no need. A look back to see she’s left.
Now I know working parents do manage, but leaving this little one home alone before dawn is a bit pushing it. Happening far too often.
Each time awakened by that pleading little voice calling “Mommy”, I stumbled up worried it was ours. Only to stop half way seeing that little girl standing there.
Outside. Alone. Again.
No sign of her playing in the yards of any houses on the block during the day. Maybe she’s gets picked up for daycare or a grandparent arrives to wrap her in her arms.
I hoped so. Worried that she wandered before dawn. Ours was the last street in the subdivision and we backed up to woods and fields. It was a new neighborhood, I didn’t know everyone.
Days and I dragged on. More and more bleary. Being sleep deprived didn’t help with the exhaustion of moving.
Determined to put an end to this crazy situation.
Upon hearing that sad little “Mommy”, I jerked on jeans and sweatshirt. If I had to sit on her doorstep all day, I was going to talk to someone about her visits.
But at I stopped with hand on the sliding glass door.
There she was again. (Tropenmuseum/National Museum of World Cultures/Commons.wikimedia.org)
She looked up hopefully. “Mommy? Where’s my mommy?”
“Honey, I don’t know, ” I relented. “She’s not here. You’re not my child.”
“I know, ” she pleaded, “but she’s gone.”
‘You need to go back. You need go back to sleep. She’ll find you.”
She drooped – dejectedly turned towards the old homestead in the field.
“But I’ve waited and waited. And she doesn’t come.”
Her pale eyes tore at me. “Do you think she’s forgotten me?”
“No, Baby, she couldn’t forget. She’s just stuck somewhere. You must go back and wait. Where she left you. That’s where she’ll look.”
“No one looks any more.” Her pain was enough to drown in.
“I’ll look. I’ll come by. Promise. OK?”
A hopeful smile as she left – into the big field.
Her little brown lace up boots darkening in the tall wet grasses.
Into the damp heavy fog. Just before dawn.
Later, I climbed through the barbed wire fence and started across that field. Didn’t have to go far to find it: a handful of gravestones – one belonging to a young girl, but no sign of her parents.
Alone. Restless. Left behind.
Cemetery fences are ornamental. Don’t do much to keep things out or in. (Russell/HABS/HALS/USPD/Commons.wikimedia.org)
The rest of the story:
The family descendants had sold the property only with assurances that the graves would be not be disturbed. But developers have been known to do things in the middle of the night.
So that afternoon I grabbed some garden tools and tried to neaten up the place – just so it was obvious someone knew it was there. Propped up pieces of fallen iron fencing on the perimeter. Added a few flowers from the yard for her.
They did keep their word. Not long after, a new iron fence, some landscaping, and a plaque about the family were installed. A yard crew maintained the area – even planted some flowers. Park-like. A happy place.
People walking past sometimes said they caught a little blur out the corner of their eye – heard a little giggle. It could have been the wind, but it felt more like when a child first sees a birthday cake and presents.
A fine house was built next door to the cemetery and it sold. Several times.
The first woman only stayed a few months, then moved out saying she heard people talking. Someone was at the back door. Spooked.
Eventually the builder circled the small cemetery with a tall cedar wood fence. Looked like a fort. Not sure it soothed any misgivings.
Just before we moved, I walked across for one last visit. One last flower placed with “Now don’t worry. You haven’t been forgotten. It’s safe here. Just sleep and wait. Sorry, baby, but I have to go.”
Then the small voice, “The good mommies always do.”
Told as a tale for a dark and stormy night. Yours to believe or not.
Phil, Philosopher Mouse of the Hedge.
Enjoy your Holler-Ring, Día de muertos, All Saints Eve, or Dodge the Asteroid Party this weekend. (Might want to hide that Jack O’lantern from the Department of Energy…global warming and all. Snort.)
Be careful reaching out in the dark – never know what might be reaching back.©
Honey, how about staying in tonight? There’s that something special in the icebox. (1960.CBS/USPD/Commons.wikimedia.org
Not that I’m anti-feathers, it’s just you don’t know where that leg has bin. Walmart, as anyone knows, is not a place for chickens – especially the parking lots.
That place of many aisles has been gleeful since American Express parted ways with Costco. Like an outcast teenager hoping pick up a girl waaay out of his league on the rebound, Walmart took no time in courting the Gold Card for their upscale brand, Sam’s Club. It’s a club! Exclusive too, see? Perfect combo.
Corporate’s eyes twinkling in anticipation. Now all those fancy pantsy shoppers who have scorned their big box offerings could be lured in. Captive audience, at first yes, but soon the snooty bargain seekers will rejoice in their new product source. If they only give it a chance. To see how worthy the offerings are. All that “Yuck, I never set foot in Walmart” mindset will soon fade.
There’s got to be some way to grab that luxury market, Chicken! Everyone loves chicken.(1963CBS/USPS/Commons.wikimedia.org)
And so now, the invitations are arriving.
Build the right price point and they will come.
Soon. Really they will. It’s all about The Card.
And the discounted “only for a limited time” membership fee. (Of course a fee. People don’t think anything’s valuable unless it costs. Marketing.)
Still, there’s that large psychological barrier to overcome: the Walmart image.
Perhaps a few additional “Specials just for you” deals on Groupon. Groupon’s good. Those people love Groupon!
A discount plus. Two levels. Two options! (Marketing says people love options. Choices). Let’s see.
Hmmm, year’s “membership” so Walmart will allow you to walk in and give them money.
Instant savings. Instant savings are good.
And a free rotisserie chicken. 2.75 pounds! Free! $4.95 value!
Gosh, darn! Honey, put down the organic fertilizer and get in the car!
We’ll brave the parking lot wolves. Run past the circling vultures.
Chicken!
Of course, no telling what that chicken scratched or where it’s been.
Mommy says some chickens aren’t ever allowed to go outside and live like real chickens should. Mommy says some chickens are stuffed with antibiotics and don’t eat their veggies. Mommy says some chickens are very stressed. I told mommy some chickens sound an awful like some children. She didn’t think it was funny.(1959/CBS/USPD/Commons.wikimedia.org)
On second thought, hold the chicken.
All feathers aren’t equal.
Phil, the Philosopher Mouse of the Hedge.
Forget the chicken. They have pastries, cheap stuff, and accept American Express.(CBS/USPD/Commons.wikimedia.org)
Oh, the Horrors.
October crackles: Holler-Ring. Día de muertos. All Hallows Eve. Impossible to ignore. Increasingly difficult to tell yourself “It’s only my imagination. Not really there.”
As the fire snaps creating shadows, a few hauntings to shiver over. Scream at will.
Terrifying. What have they done to us? (Frankie Avalon and Annette Funicello/USPD/Commons.wikimedia.org)
First fright: pucker up.
In what universe is her bathing suit attractive? This publicity photo not from “It Came from Outer Space”, but “Beach Party”(1977). Did wardrobe get the scripts confused?
Maybe the crew was just partying with Lovejoy Comet. That cosmic cocktail is certainly Hollywood’s style: 500 bottles of wine every second? Now that’s a party. (Much better than that spooky Halloween asteroid 2015 TB145 that’s sneaking around.)
Hint to beach party attendees: pucker is never pretty.
Not space invaders, although a bit spacey(1934Oxley Library, Queensland/PD/Commons.wikimedia.org)
Continuing the march of horrors: another beach beauty or beast.
Yes, white belts are always slimming. (Some will believe anything.)
But the real fright is the rubbery swim caps with chin snaps that were once required. Nothing like going back to school with a lovely ring of pale skin around the face (Like a halo? No.) and a white streak on the neck from ear to ear. As if teenagers didn’t have enough things to worry about.
Yet these teens look so happy. Delusional, candidates for heat stroke, or from out of this world?
Trophy for best outfit imitation of a table cloth or couch.(1920-1930/Oxley Library.Queensland/PD/Commons.wikimedia.org)
A horror terrifying enough to cause fainting: sports bloomers.
Someday it will be revealed: it was all a plot by adults to dress teens as ugly as possible.
You know what’s really scary? The thought that fashion goes in circles and that vintage sports bloomers could be revived. One retro clothing item that needs to stay buried. Get the vampire stakes.
Although in case of space alien invasion, the bloomers could make is easy to hide among the drapes and upholstery.
Stop Smirking. There really is a Death Star.
Vaporized its’ own planet. Next? Eating an entire solar system….
Odd, all this happening just as the Star Wars movie is showing up.
Life imitates fiction or is that the other way around? Hollywood confuses things sometimes. And the Universe does have a sense of humor.
It must be in human DNA to seek thrills and scares.
Not a Halloween costume! 1965. Annette Funicello dressed in tunic and stretch pants for Hullabaloo. Two potential horrors: the return of fashions/hairstyles, and you actually remember Hullabaloo show on NBC (USPD/Commons.wikimedia.org)
Actually your DNA could get you the scare of your life.
A horror story could start with simple curiosity. Who were your ancestors? Waaaaay back ones. Where did they come from? A simple swab sent off for analysis and then you know whether to wear kilts, lederhosen, or sari.
Only, some went over to The Dark Side: “Your relative’s DNA could turn you into a suspect.” There’s a tale of one man’s macabre experience to read and shiver over. “Cops are asking Ancestory.com and 23 and Me for their customers’ DNA.“
Just can’t get away from the scary stuff.
(Some spooky space sounds from NASA)
Some tales of horror to amuse until the masks come off and the costumes come out.
Sum total? Can’t boo without you!
Phil, the Philosopher Mouse of the Hedge.
(Production note: been dealing with internet issues, storm battered landscape, and The German is here for sunning in back yard which somehow magically cures her crummy tummy problems….We suspect a doggie pack plot. Will catch up with your blogs ASAP)
Noooo! Horrors! It’s the sock monster! ©
Do the dishes or no allowance? Seriously?(USPD/Commons.wikimedia.org)
“About time, ” she’s said under her breath.
A looker, we’ve kept her close. Away from the fast crowds of the streets.
Kid next door casually stopped by once when she was sunning in the driveway. His ogling not as unseen as he thought. We got her quickly under wraps. Actually boarded her at a distance. She is way out of his league. When his father casually came by to inquire, we blurted out, “He has no idea the trouble we’d saved him from.” Understanding achieved.
But now. You can shelter them just so long. She is what she is.
We’ve always hoped she’d catch the eye some wealthy and stable older man. Someone who would indulge her – be totally smitten – and happily shower her with whatever she needed or wanted – while keeping a firm grip on her and steering her away wrecking her life.
Held back by old fogey stick-in-the-muds. (USPD/Commons.wikimedia.org)
A real heart breaker ready to roll.
New shoes. Eyes shining brightly.
Well-chosen ruby-red polished. Metallic. (If it’s more expensive, she HAS to have it.)
Assured that the one tiny blemish isn’t noticeable. (Stupid falling bike having the nerve to think she wouldn’t mind catching him.)
Baby’s leaving home.
It’s never easy. All the experiences we’ve tried to give to prepare her.
(“I know. Turn around, don’t drown. Completely stop at all the stop signs. Watch the school zones. Arrest-Me-Red attracts attention. I know! I know! Stop!”)
What? (USPD/Commons.wikimedia.org)
The excitement of road trips. New and interesting places.
Will she even notice us in the rear view mirror as she’s driven away?
We have promised not to run down the street after her. (May involve tying a rope from ankle to porch)
But if we spot each other on the street, a slight nod? Just to let each other know it’s going well?
Baby’s leaving home. Sigh.
(Oh for goodness sakes, I’m 20 years old. Get a life and let go of mine!)
Mustangs GTs are made to run. Especially the arrest-me-red ones.
Phil, the Philosopher Mouse of the Hedge.
“Someone call 911. Captive. Being held against my will!”©
No Mustang would be happy about this:
“Bureau of Land Management illegally sold thousands of federally protected wild horses for slaughter” (Cheaply sold to a known kill buyer, the horses were inhumanely crammed in over-crowded trucks and driven to brutal Mexico slaughter houses. US Attorney District Office and State of Colorado County District Attorney Office decline civil and criminal prosecution. Why? As to quote a famous person, “What.Does.It. Matter?” That seems to work for everything in almost any case now. Feds breaking their own rules.)
So much for “Icons of the American West“.
Well, we’ll always have Pony cars...Maybe. Sort of. “The Ford Mustang is no longer a muscle car” (Business Insider)
Run wild. Run free. We’ll miss you, Baby.©
Warming up the audience. Opening act promises to be quite dramatic.©
If that old warning “Red sky at morning, sailor take warning” is true, we’re in for a rough ride.
With a “cold” front moving down from the north, a tropical rain mass moving up the coast from Yucatan into South Texas up the coast, and Pacific hurricane Patricia aiming to pound Puerto Vallarta before swirling across Mexico and Central Texas from the west, it looks like a gully washer of a weekend here as it all collides.
Good news it that Central Texas needs the rain. And the fires will get doused.
Have to say never seen more dramatic wall paper, Mother Nature. (This is a bit down the road in one of the dry dock boat yards.)©
Galveston has had extremely high tides for a couple of days and some coastal roads (the ones that always do) are already flooded. The surfers typically ignore the red flag warnings and dangerous rip tides – making the Beach Patrol fret.
Weather is such a concern that The Harvest Moon Regatta has been canceled. No doubt the Coast Guard is relieved. While a few up for anything sailors may be grumbling, realistically there were many inexperienced boats signed up. Canceling this race from Clear Lake (edge of Houston/Galveston Bay) to Port Aransas is a big deal – never happened before.
Quick. Somebody tell them to cut the juice to those power lines. It’s sucking in all the energy it can! ©
So any outdoor enthusiasts wishing for some soothing beauty of nature while stuck inside?
Plenty of amazing water and wildlife views here at the Greenbelt. While there, check out Doug Worall’s captured images of Mother Nature’s wonders. Vote and you might win a framed Greenbelt photo of your choice. Contest closes just before Halloween. (Woods are just too spooky for many on that night.)
Leaving you to hike off on your own now.
Molly needs to run before the deluge begins. Dog of heavy coat doesn’t see what all the fuss is about. What’s a little mud? That’s what towels (and hall walls, and bedspreads, and jean legs) are for, right?
Paddle on,
Phil the Philosopher Mouse of the Hedge
Do not think you are invisible. If you seek refuge or advice, fill out the forms at the door like everyone else and quit sneaking around.
Wait.
The rain seems to have grounded the dragonflies outside the window. We are in need of amusement.
You have your chance. Do not disappoint US.
Oh, since you have disturbed Us. (USPD/Commons.wikimedia.org)
There seems to be a puddle pooling around you.
We hope that is simply drainage from wet feet as the alternative is too disturbing.
Apparently some species cannot be trained to come in out of the weather. Pretty low-level thinking there. But We must make allowances and be kind to the lesser ones.
Look! Not a bird. Not a plane. No, it’s a spooky asteroid. Notify the RC of the Realm.(1954Space Patrol/USPD/Commons.wikimedia.org)
We are informed of a large castor oil. Odd.
NASA even issued advisories of said fast-moving castor oil in the sky that is supposed to peak on Holler-Ring night.
As you have stumbled in, you might as well be useful and elaborate on this puzzling event.
NASA discovered this large sky blob Oct 1oth?
Perhaps the castor oil was discarded by some distant planet? That should be considered air pollution and there should be fines for not fine air.
Or is this castor oil being sprayed by plane like mosquito repellant? If so, it might be better to have this done on some other night as so many children are out and about during Holler-Ring. What about health concerns?
This whole castor oil event is misplaced worry.
Yes, it is called “Spooky” or “Great Pumpkin.“
Dangerous? All NASA keeps saying this castor oil is unpredictable.
Did it come from outer space? Will castor oil stop it? Seriously?©
Yes, yes, any Dunderhead can see, there is some odd white mold covering landscapes
Obscuring some of the Holler-Ring yard decorations.
Perhaps a small spray bottle of fungicide used on a case by case basis would be a more appropriate measure than some large uncontrollable flyby of castor oil.
Staff has been instructed to notify NASA and Space.com of Our preferred plan to combat this white webbing.
Those scientists have been breathing too many lab fumes. Spaced out.
Is the cure be worse than the disease?©
Castor oil. What nonsense drops out of the sky sometimes.
Bah. The fact that We must bother to point out the obvious is ruffling Our fur.
Serious landscape infestations should be left to those who actually nose things.
Does it divide like an amoeba? Will it creep into the house? ©
We are hoping you are aware of Our diminishing amusement by you.
Let Us clarify: the Paw is waving.
Audience Fini! Hair Us yowl.
Do not slosh through that puddle making a larger mess. Tippy toe. We know it is difficult for clodhoppers, but attempt it.
Sometimes We wonder why We even bother.©
Stack your tribute of an open can of food neatly in the doorway.
Yes, there.
Dry it off first. What?
You are wearing jeans and a shirt. Surely there is a dry spot somewhere.
Oh, stop. Staff must towel off the area anyway or perhaps the Molly would like to perform her rolling routine. Either shall do.
Adieu, mon chere.
I am RC Cat and I approve this message.
Bleary before dawn.(USPD/Commons.wikimedia.org)
There should be a law against having to get up before dawn.
Unreal. Must turn on lights so the dog can go out and not disappear in the bushes.
Should be a law. Oh, that’s the problem: a dumb law: Daylight Savings Time.
So ready for “fall back” to real time
These dark mornings are dangerous for school kids. Drivers can’t see kids at the bus stop. “Sisters injured in hit and run crash”
Teenagers don’t learn well when schools start in the dark. Even the CDC and National Sleep Foundation say so.
I am so ready for a return to what should be.
True delight to get up after dawn. It is not laziness. Internal clock. (USP/Commons.wikimedia.org)
Not ready for 2015 TB145.
2015 TB145 is a “Potentially Hazardous Asteroid” that was first seen/discovered Oct 10, 2015.
It’s got an extremely wonky unknown orbit, so no predicting, is there?
About the size of the Sear’s Tower (280-620 meters/900-2,00 feet), it’s predicted to pass about
1.2 lunar miles from Earth
On Halloween.
In the Northern hemisphere? Look at the sky at about 11:00 UT in the constellation of Taurus.
You’ll need a telescope.
Rough way to start the day.(USPD/Commons.wikimedia.org)
Unless it’s wonky unpredictable orbit brings it to your backyard.
Already nicknamed “Spooky” by some. NASA calls it the “Great Pumpkin.”
It’s smaller than the asteroid that probably caused the dinosaurs to disappear, but still…
Look at an animated video of Spooky’s projected path here on space.co…if you dare…really a stunner.
Hiding under the bed already? You can track Spooky live here on Halloween.
NASA says it should be a near miss…although closer than the last “near miss of 3.1 lunar miles by 2004 BL86 or the 1.1 lunar miles of 2004 XP14.
So no horrors, just treats this Halloween.
They promised California would be the first to go! (USPD/Commons.wikimedia.org)
Of course, this asteroid has nothing to do with NASA jumping into predicting “THE BIG ONE” shaking up California soon.
Nothing at all, right?
Talk about a serious walk in the dark.
Let’s just move that bed outside into the backyard. Hard hat? Floaties?
Hope this Nov.1st ending of Daylight Savings Time isn’t the biggest “Fall Back” ever with an actual about face for civilization.
Would be the such a notable example of irony.
Ready or not.
Phil, the Philosopher Mouse of the Hedge.
Before you fly off:
Click over and vote for fellow WordPress blogger and photographer, Doug Worrall. He’s got 2 entries in a contest. Wander over here to preview them on his blog, then hop on over to the Greenbelt Photo Contest and vote.
Get the word out. Nature deserves some attention. Environmentalists and nature lovers are always saying that. (You are permitted to be enthralled by all the contest images…just vote for Doug’s.)
Humorous how only pretty people have the survivor gene. Not one speck of dirt either.(USPD/Commons.wikimedia.org)
You don’t know what it’s like.
You of the emotional performances worthy of any stage. All that for image – and Facebook, probably
Don’t talk to me about guns. Only a shallow socially acceptable response.
Yes! A common experience for bonding.
A simple clean distraction to avoid looking at the ugly mess.
Life is but a dream. (USPD/Commons.wikimedia.org)
He was a darling child: Bright eyed, toothy grin, knock-knock jokes and kid pun funny.
That grin worrisome now – like a rotting Jack O’lantern.
You catch your breath when there’s breaking news on TV.
Hoping not to hear the address.
Or see that thought-ravaged face.
There have been incidents with police.
Frantic explanations, assurances, relocations
Of course, no guns around. None. That would be idiotic.
But there’s kitchen knives, screw drivers, and table legs.
You’d be surprised at what’s available in an ordinary house – and the resourcefulness of one deranged.
The foil covered windows.
Things unplugged so “They” can’t listen or see.
The cone-shaped foil hat so “They” can’t search his thoughts.
Involuntary commitments
Meds can work wonders. If taken.
So can periods of lucidity where he sounds perfectly reasonable.
And he’s tricky – knows the game. Knows what answers unlock the doors.
Did you know once the heath team clears a patient, he can just walk out into the street – free to go – without anyone being notified? That’s always fun.
See, you don’t know.
Dr. Jekyll or Mr. Hyde. Who’s there this time?(USPD/Commons.wikimedia.org)
Far easier to blame guns than illnesses that snatch and distort body and soul.
A gun doesn’t bother me, but the unseen monsters shadowing among the public do.
Only a fragile line standing between you from them: the families. And they don’t always try either.
- Some refuse to acknowledge “He can act better if he wants to!” Denial.
- Some just ignore it. “Give him what he wants and he’ll be OK. Let him stay in his room, so what?”
- Some are too embarrassed. “A reflection on the family”. “A reflection on me”. “My clients would all leave if they knew…”
- Some leave. “He’s your kid. You deal with it.”
- Some pay them to go away. “Here. This is where you live now. We’ll pay the rent and bring groceries. Don’t call.”
- Some give up and give them to the streets.
- Some go from doctor to doctor looking for what they want to hear – or a miracle
- Some desperately run through all their insurance, savings, and any money they can beg or borrow – drowning while trying to protect society. Protect society from their child who had something go so wrong.
Don’t worry. No one has to know. (USPD/Commons.wikimedia.org)
I force myself to remember that little boy with the shiny bowl haircut bouncing across the yard – all knees and elbows.
An unknown switch flipped during his first year of college.
A descent as rough as losing footing in a rock scramble while hiking.
Late onset schizophrenia can only be ignored so long.
Over 40 now, this limp hulk drugged into submission. He’s still in there. A small flash in the eyes at a joke once in a while.
What sort of life? But society must be protected.
Or else you get Sandy Hook, Aurora, Santa Barbara, Oregon, Arizona (2011), and as far back as Poe Elementary (1959)
Unstable individuals let loose on society.
If you know, you recognized it instantly: people who knew and did nothing.
Should parents be responsible if their unstable mentally ill child kills? Maybe. What precautions were taken?
Should insurance companies be held responsible? Maybe. Substituting drugs, insisting on changing doctors, dictating treatment, selecting facilities, only paying for out-patient treatment rather than residential care, and limiting lengths of stay and treatment?
Should society also take some of the blame for choosing to not address the problem of mental heath and violent unstable behavior? Yes.
Keeping the beast down.(USPD/Commons.wikimedia.org)
There is hope. Here’s some happy stories:
Read about Glenn, his sister Tamara, and Mar J.
“Stop the Madness. New treatment for schizophrenia that could transform the way mental illness is treated. And about treatment barriers in the US and insurance companies’ fun and games.(Huffington Post)
And a couple of more serious articles
- “Early treatment for brain inflammation could prevent schizophrenia, study finds.” (Disorder is an immune response?)
- Washington Post. “A new way to treat people after first schizophrenic episode” Study offers new hope if treated with coordinated sustained services, there’s a chance of leading productive lives instead of becoming homeless, incarcerated, or unemployed.
- “Advocates, lawmakers see momentum for mental health reform in Congress.”
Oh, stuff like this always happens to other people, right?
Heard that somewhere.
But realistically, if you’ve got kids, nieces, nephews, grandkids…you never know. That switch flips without warning.
And then there’s the other thing:
Once these individuals’ parents, families, caretakers die off, you, the public, are faced with what to do with them.
Even if it isn’t Halloween, some neighbors are scarier than others (Legends of Horror image.Amazon.com)
Just head’s up.
Good to know.
Phil, the Philosopher Mouse of the Hedge.
(Don’t worry, the wacky frivolity will return shortly. This one’s just been simmering a while. Besides, always a good time to contact Congress about issues.)
Oh, OK. Can’t leave on such a serious note. Quackers?
Warm and fuzzy enough? (S.Ritter/Commons.wikimedia.org)
Demonstrating the importance of keeping your eye on the ball. (Eddie by Steve-65/Commons.wikimedia.org)
Red sign. Read signs.©
Days are shorter. Early morning fog. Uncertainty.
He’s bound to notice: Warmth leaching away. Fog caping everything.
Does he hope? Does he know to hope?
Barrio warrior.
Dog in the fog.
Winter is coming.
He moves to sit in the middle of the street. Some warmth still held there, maybe.
Or watching down the road.
Open ended.
Wish he’d move. It’s barely dawn.
Alone. Small in the fog.
If he’s there next trip to the plant – and without collar or tag
Doubt any offer of food would be ignored.
A small hop up and in could take him to –
Would he be interested or be doggedly self-reliant?
Which requires the courage?
Human-like. No surprise the species cling to each other.
Winter is coming.
For all those shadows the fog.
Phil, the Philosopher Mouse of the Hedge.
Philosopher Mouse of the Hedge 