Doggedly searching for the crux of the biscuit.
| Sun | Mon | Tue | Wed | Thu | Fri | Sat |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | ||||||
| 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 |
| 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 |
| 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 |
| 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 |
| 30 |
It must be the single slowest news day in the history of Okaloosa County, Florida for this story to make the paper.
I picked this tune up from a fella way up the jam session pecking order from me sometime in the mid 80s and thought it a quaint ditty. Down the road a few years I quite thought myself to be the shit because I could legitimately call Michael Hedges to mind with my work, had a few finger picking moves of my own, and composed in seven time.
Shortly thereafter I learned about who wrote this song and how and was appropriately humbled. I found this today and pray it never be lost:
The Mars Reconnaissance Orbiter has detected what NASA scientists believe are huge glaciers of water ice lying beneath a layer of rocky debris. [...] One of the things that makes the glaciers so interesting is their location. They're in the middle latitudes, far from the planet's polar caps where other signs of water ice have been discovered. The glaciers observed in this study are in the southern hemisphere, but similar features have been spotted in the same latitude bands in the northern hemisphere. That led researchers to believe that, however the glaciers got there, they're the result of a climate-based phenomenon.
And they're big, too. The glaciers reach for dozens of miles. One is three times larger than the city of Los Angeles and is up to a half-mile thick.
And on a more somber note, rest in peace, Phoenix Lander.
Froz and I both grew up here in Durham, back when the city was half the size it is now and decidedly sleepier. The past two to three decades have been a real boom time for this area, both in terms of population and the economy, and the Triangle metro area has swelled to the point that the spaces between Durham, Chapel Hill, and Raleigh have steadily filled in with neighborhoods, shopping centers, and office parks, so that city and county boundaries often feel more arbitrary than organic, and it all feels much less wooded and natural than it did back in the 70s and 80s.
Inevitably, familiar landmarks disappear—the big tobacco industry here died, farmland got developed, woods got cleared, the Starlite Drive-In burned down, the universities never stop expanding, country stores gave way to shiny franchise stations—to the point that I have to be careful not to give directions that include helpful bits like "turn left just past where the water tower used to be." But, you know, some mean more than others.
When I was in high school (class of 86), there was a small used record store across town, less than a quarter-mile from where I now live, called Sweet Emma's. It was in an old converted house, specialized in jazz and soul, and was run by an older black guy who seemed mostly amused by this gawky, redheaded teenager who spent hours every week there flipping through crates. I had only just started listening to jazz and he spent lots of time pulling stuff out and playing it for me, explaining who had come up through whose band and who influenced whom and what all the different subgenres were. I was absolutely captivated.
Anyhow, the store closed a long time ago while I wasn't living in Durham and, for most of the time since I moved around the corner, has been a little Mexican tienda/tacqueria, though that shut down a few weeks ago. Even as it sat empty, though, driving by that house every day has been a pleasant reminder of some really great memories from growing up here. Then last weekend, I pulled out of my neighborhood to see a bunch of fire trucks out in front. When I drove past, the house was in full flame and the right lane was blocked with signs that read TRAINING EXERCISE. Now it's an empty lot.
Yes, hello. I'm calling about my fifteen minutes of fame. I'm finding them unsatisfactory and would like to trade them in for a more dignified fifteen minutes, please.
Keith Roy Weatherley, 46, was spotted acting suspiciously in his car by police near Nobbys Beach in Australia. When police approached him, they suspected he might be armed, so they drew their weapons. When he saw the officers, Weatherley pulled away and led police on a 20kph chase which lasted up to ten minutes.
Okay, first: a 12 miles per hour chase took ten minutes to end? That strikes me as odd, though not nearly so odd as where the article goes next.
When he finally stopped the vehicle, he refused to exit the car, and officers used batons and spray to remove him. They found him with a 750ml pasta jar around his penis. While they were trying to restrain him, Weatherley continued to pleasure "himself in between bouts of wrestling". Police found a number of items in the car, including pornography, a home-made sex aid, women's stockings and a Jack Russell terrier. [...] He said he resisted police because he was trying to make himself "decent".
Huh. I suppose the home-made sex aid was something other than the pasta jar. At least the terrier part makes sense.
Until just a few months ago, I really didn't believe America would elect a black president without going through the VP office first to get some parts of the electorate comfortable with the idea. And, if you'd told me a year ago that nominating a black Democratic candidate would put NC, VA, and FL into play, I'd have laughed at your pitiable but charming naïvete. So adorable!
Well, here we are. Apparently, my pessimism about the American people was overblown.* But, alas, not entirely unfounded.
*Or perhaps the alternative explanation.
Sixty-four years young and $275,000 richer.
Rebecca Willis sued to make her point six years ago. A settlement Thursday gave her a six-figure exclamation point. The town of Marshall agreed to pay $275,000 for banning Willis from a community dance hall on allegations her moves were too risqué. [...]
Willis, 64, argued town officials violated her constitutional rights to freedom of expression and equal protection when they barred her from Friday night dances at the Marshall Depot in December 2000. The town said in court documents that residents complained she danced in a sexually provocative manner, wearing short skirts while "simulating sexual intercourse with her partner who hunched on the floor." Some witnesses said in affidavits they could see Willis' undergarments and "privates."
Four sentences later, her attorney is quoted as saying, "There's no other way you could look at it." Granted, that wasn't what he was talking about, but it's better out of context.
Update: Carolina blue, baby.
It appears that it will take a while before we know whether North Carolina went for McCain or Obama. There were about 50,000 provisional ballots cast in 2004, probably at least that many this year, and just 12,000 votes separate the two candidates Senator McCain and President-Elect Obama. However, I *can* report that, as in 2004, Durham County has distinguished itself as the most Democratic county in North Carolina, delivering a 76%-24% (102,237 to 32,040) verdict for Obama.
Bull City, represent!
