Monthly Archives: August 2010

Press Conference To Demand A Full U.S. Withdrawal From Iraq

Press Conference To Demand A Full U.S. Withdrawal From Iraq

Press Conference To Demand A Full U.S. Withdrawal From Iraq

In solidarity with anti-war groups around the nation, including CODEPINK: Women for Peace, Courage to Resist, Fellowship of Reconciliation, Global Exchange, Institute for Policy Studies’ New Internationalism Project, Iraq Veterans Against the War, Military Families Speak Out, Pax Christi – USA, US Labor Against the War, Veterans for Peace, Voices for Creative Nonviolence, Voters for Peace, War Is a Crime, and other local and national groups,the Under the Hood staff, along with active duty soldiers, veterans, family members, legislators, local peace groups and other concerned citizens are planning a press conference on Monday, Aug. 30, at 10 a.m., at the Under the Hood Café & Outreach Center, 17 College St. (@ W. Ave. G), Killeen, to counter the current administration’s claim that the conflict in Iraq is “over” and “success” has been achieved.  Continue reading

Misinformed Views Of Americans & Mid-Eastern People By Americans & Mid-Eastern People

Our Perceptions Are Controlled And Clouded By Various Obstructionist Media And Other Forces

I truly believe that we Americans and Mid-Eastern citizens have more in common than we have differences.  As humans, we have the same basic needs and desires.

I have been speaking on an Iranian blog with citizens of several Mid-Eastern nations and it interests me in many ways how they view the U.S. and its citizens. Continue reading

Spice Station Brings LA 300 Of The Most Exotic Spices In The World

Spice Station

Spice Station

LOS ANGELES — “There may not be a trip around the world in your future, but Spice Station is as close as you can get without crossing the continents,” suggest owners of the new food enhancement service that is taking California by storm. They confirm that 300 of the most exotic spices can be found at this new establishment headquartered at 3819 West Sunset Boulevard, Los Angeles, Calif., which offers multiple locations as a convenience for the public. “And what’s more, you don’t have to cash in a CD to enjoy the spicy experience,” it was noted, since the prices are low. Continue reading

Neptune Discovered One Neptunian Year Ago

Can you believe it’s been nearly a year since the planet Neptune was discovered? My how the time flies. OK, so it’s been 164 Earth years, but it’s but only been one Neptunian year.

When Neptune was discovered in 1846, it was located just inside the western border of the constellation Aquarius. Now after making one orbit around the Sun — one Neptunian year — it’s back near where it was when discovered.

Long-time readers of this column with exceptional memories — Hello, anyone out there? — might recall reading about Neptune’s discovery in a 1993 Stargazer. It’s an interesting story worth retelling. Continue reading

Cold & Hard: Spending The Night In Arnievile

Mailbox

Mailbox

Mark Twain’s autobiography is finally getting published — almost one hundred years to the day after he wrote it.  And from what I can tell after reading the book’s advance reviews, Twain was also one hundred years ahead of his time, having apparently come back from the grave just in time to give us a much-needed warning about being wary of America’s oligarchs and to nail today’s corporatists for what they really are — greedy bastards.   Continue reading

Fickle Fashion Yet Again

I made the mistake of looking at my daughter’s fashion magazines yet again. These things either make me laugh or make me mad. Sometimes they cause me to scratch my head. I always find amazing all the “new” rabbits Madison Avenue continues to pull out of its proverbial hat. Somehow designers, manufacturers, and retailers  convince millions of women each season that this is in or that is out, that hair must be curly, straight, wavy, “piecey,” beachy, or whatever. (I’m supremely glad to have hair and am happy when it’s clean and neat). Continue reading

Holding Onto Eroding Houma Bayous

Harder Than Holding Greased Pigs?

Destroyed House - Isle de Jean Charles In March of 2006, my son Joe participated in the American Indian Movement’s Sacred Run, traveling from San Francisco to Washington, D.C. on foot — and I joined him for the New Orleans leg of the journey.   He ran.  I drove.

Joe ran through the Ninth Ward and he ran through the bayous.  I drove behind him through both, getting a windshield tour of Katrina’s incredible destruction.  Following along behind Joe in my car, I saw the Katrina damage up close.   “You think the outsides of the houses look bad?” someone in the Ninth Ward told me. “You should see the insides.” Continue reading

Mid Summer — Lots Of Peaches

I’m still picking peaches from our trees, and they’re also falling off faster than I can use them. Fifty cups of peaches have been frozen, so I’m expecting our ancient freezer to go out sometime this year (hopefully in winter). Murphy’s Law, you know; it’ll probably give up the ghost in August. Continue reading

Afghanistan, Pakistan, Israel & Iraq: America’s Favorite Money Pits

Jane and Mena    Yesterday my two-year-old granddaughter Mena and I were completely at logger-heads.  She’d already stubbornly refused to make nice at the library, a restaurant and an olive-tasting party  — and now she was refusing to take a bath.  Ah, two-year-olds.  I’m too old for this!

“But Jane,” someone advised me, “she’s obviously rebelling against you because she is bored.  She’s tired of doing little-kid things and now she wants to do big-kid things.”  I’ll just bet that she does.  And what kind of big-kid things does she have in mind?  Declare wars, get drunk, pollute the air and/or lobby to corrupt our politicians?   Continue reading

More Faithful Men?

Glenn Close going crazy in “Fatal Attraction” was a cautionary tale for any man considering a casual affair in the late ’80s. Today, the repercussions of Tiger Woods’ affairs should be enough to discourage men from cheating on their wives. When statisticians do their work on the subject, I’ll bet we’ll see a dip in the number of unfaithful male spouses for the years immediately after Tiger’s foolish philandering. This upswing in marital fidelity won’t be because men are going to worry about the money they might have to give up if their wives find out they have strayed. It’s not because of the possible effect on their children. It’s not because they might lose the woman they love if they get caught doing some free-lance mattress testing. No, what will terrorize millions of men about having an affair and getting caught is how this might affect their golf game. Continue reading

1915 Hurricane Tests Galveston’s New Seawall

There was still no news from Galveston on Aug. 18, 1915 two full days after a hurricane packing 125 mile-per-hour winds slammed into the island.

Texans on the mainland, including 7,000 refugees from the stricken city, could only worry and wonder whether the new seawall had saved Galveston from a repeat of the calamity of 1900.

Two hurricanes in the summer of 1886, especially the August storm that finished off Indianola, got some Galvestonians to thinking again about building a barrier on the beach.  But they were, as usual, badly outnumbered by neighbors, who took it as an article of faith that the Oleander City was immune to nature’s wrath. Continue reading

Summer’s No Vacation

VeggiesHave you ever noticed that things seem to break and generally mess up or need attention in batches, never only one at a time?

We just discovered that one of the bulls is limping. We don’t know why. We’re hoping he’ll recover in time to do a little work next winter. Timing is everything. Continue reading

Why Not Me?

The rumors are true. I was not invited to Chelsea Clinton’s wedding. I have no idea why. I never said or did anything cruel to either Bill or Hillary Clinton. I never met Marc’s family, so why would they be mad at me? It’s all a mystery. The invitation couldn’t have gotten lost in the mail. You don’t just drop an invitation to a former First Daughter’s wedding in your neighborhood mailbox. You walk down to the post office, you wait in that dreadful line, and you pay the few extra bucks to insure the thing. No, they left me off the list on purpose, and they didn’t do it in a classy way. Continue reading

Save Water; Fix That Leaky Light Switch

The great thing about shows like Extreme Home Makeover is that they inspire ideas on how to improve your home. The bad news is that people like me then try to implement these ideas without the benefit of a trained professional. The result is our bathroom, which currently has a commode with hot running water and a wall heater that can only be turned on by unscrewing the third bulb in our vanity mirror. Continue reading

Teaching Your Child To Bowl? Try Some Gutter Talk

Teaching a child to bowl is truly a bonding experience — meaning that  you should really consider taking out a bond before entering the bowling alley.

As someone who escaped the experience with only a minor skull fracture and minimal orthodontic surgery, I feel I’ve acquired a level of expertise that could be helpful. Continue reading

Tired Of Looking At The Same Old Killer Asteroid? Give It A New Paint Job

Scientists tell us it’s only a matter of time before a giant asteroid threatens to crash into the Earth. This of course would lead to a cataclysmic event unleashing tidal waves, earthquakes, 6,000 years of winter, and, theoretically, mankind’s final offering as an evolved species:

Survivor: Oh great—now what?

Scientists warn that the only way to avoid total extinction would be to somehow divert the offending asteroid into a different orbit, therefore altering its path into a collision course with something less vital, like, say… New Jersey. Continue reading

When It Comes To Looking Ahead, Look No Further Than Your Behind

You should be aware that the idea of promoting an important issue through a week of “National Awareness” has gotten plain silly. There was a time when, in order to command the attention of our entire country for a whole week, you actually needed to have an issue that was important—something that could save lives, improve society, or, at the very least, boost the sale of Hallmark cards.

But not anymore.

I say this because, as you may or may not know, we’re in the middle of “National Psychic Week.” (For those of you who weren’t aware of this, I’m sorry: But there’s a very good chance you are NOT psychic.) According to one website, the purpose of this week-long focus is to “dispel skepticism [of psychics] through factual awareness.”

Thanks to an article that appeared in the Chicago Sun-Times, I have a better understanding of how it might take an entire week to dispel all that skepticism—especially after reading about Ulf Buck, a blind psychic from Meldorf, Germany, who claims he can read people’s futures by feeling their naked buttocks.

(Warning to women who frequent singles bars: Men who frequent singles bars may be reading this column.)

According to Buck, creases representing success, career and artistic ability extend inward from the extremities of the buttocks (Similar to a map of Hollywood), while five other creases radiate outward. Though Buck explained that those creases represent areas such as love and money, when asked about that crease radiating down the middle, he just said, “Ewww.”

My point is, if you have a habit of sitting naked on wicker furniture, don’t waste your time getting a buttocks reading.

No. My real point is that people no longer pay ANY attention to “National Awareness” weeks because the topics have gotten so stupid.

For example, when’s the last time you observed “National Fresh Breath” week with any level of enthusiasm? Did you gargle more? Brush better? Buy an extra roll of Certs?

(No one in THIS office did, I can tell you that.)

The problem is that there are no guidelines when it comes to petitioning for “National Awareness” status — which is why we have 40 states that participate in “Sky Awareness” week each year. First of all, do we really need a whole week? Unless you’re lying face down getting a buttocks reading, how long does it take to look straight up? Considering that there are 10 states that don’t observe “Sky Awareness” week at all, we can conclude that they either, 1) Think it’s stupid, 2) Put all of their efforts into having a great “Fresh Breath” week, or 3) Have no idea the sky actually exists.

Which could explain the idea behind “Brain Awareness” week.

That’s right. The same people who brought us “Mustard” week and “Bat Survey” week would like us to remember that we have brains. (Even though, oddly enough, those same people scheduled “National Hot Dog” week to take place three months AFTER “National Mustard” week.)

The bottom line, of course, is that coming up with wisecracks about buttocks readings, while cheeky, requires more brain activity than most “Awareness Week” topics.

Though I’m sure that’ll change some day, exactly when is anybody’s guess.

Then again, they do say hindsight is 20/20….


(You can write to Ned Hickson at nhickson@thesiuslawnews.com, or at the Siuslaw News at P.O. Box 10, Florence, OR. 97439)

Tales Of Combative Licensed Handgun Owners

THE ADDLED PARANOIACS AMONG US

Okay.  Here I go again.

Although I had hoped to expound upon another topic, those delightful paranoiacs who put so much faith in their handguns continue to escalate my agita.

 Last week, I came across an article in the Atlanta Journal Constitution about an altercation that transpired – allegedly – following a minor fender bender. Continue reading

Businessman’s Novel Twice As Long As ‘Gone With The Wind’

    Afraid no editor would take the time to read a two-and-a-half-foot thick manuscript, a wealthy Waco businessman mailed the first 300 pages of his record-breaking novel to an East Coast publishing house sometime in mid-August 1951.

Madison Alexander Cooper, Jr. was born in 1894 with, as he good-naturedly conceded, “at least a silver-plated spoon in my mouth.”  His father was a well-to-do grocer and prominent pillar of the Central Texas city, that would be “Matt” Cooper’s home for life.

After graduating from the University of Texas with a degree in English, he fought in France as a doughboy captain.  Returning in one piece to Waco, he honored his parents’ wishes by taking his rightful place in the family business.

Afterhours, however, the young executive pursued a very private dream.  He spent nights and weekends writing short stories and even sold a few to national magazines.  But those early efforts failed to meet his high standards, and in the 1930’s he moth-balled his typewriter.

Although Cooper kept his nose to the grindstone during the Depression, he did not neglect his first love.  He took three correspondence courses in creative writing from Columbia University, which inspired his switch from the short story to the novel.

Before putting a single word down on paper, Cooper thought his epic tale through from beginning to end.  Allowing ten years to write, ten years to sell and another decade to edit, he did not expect to see the book in print before 1970.

Cooper’s pet project was a secret he shared with no one.  His elaborate precautions were so effective than even his closest friends never suspected the plain-vanilla businessman was hard at work on the Great American Novel.

Cooper brought the imaginary town of Sironia, Texas to life in a study on the third floor of his turn-of-the-century mansion.  A detailed map of the fictitious place and a genealogical chart with the 83 main characters hung on the wall behind his desk.  Visitors were admitted to the sanctuary only by appointment, and prior to their entrance a large map of the Lone Star State was pulled down to hide the fantasy props.

Self-discipline enabled Cooper to change hats without derailing his train of thought.  “I can be in the middle of writing what I consider a poignant love scene,” he once explained, “be interrupted by a tenant whose plumbing has to be repaired, and then after arranging the repair I can return effortlessly to my interrupted scene.”

Learning from the bitter experience of a fellow novelist, who lost his life’s work in a fire, Cooper typed each chapter in triplicate.  He stored one copy in a closet, the second in a vacant store and the third in a bank vault.

After 11 years of tedious toil, Cooper entrusted the finished product to two student typists he swore to the strictest secrecy.  The finger-weary pair pounded out a manuscript two and a half feet thick!

Cooper was stunned speechless.  He knew his novel had run a little long but nearly 900,000 words?  That was more than the Old and New Testaments combined and twice the length of Margaret Mitchell’s Gone With the Wind.

Cooper convinced himself that no book baron in his right mind would wade through the 2,864-page manuscript.  So he sent the first 300 pages to Houghton-Mifflin in the faint hope of piquing the interest of the Boston publisher.

To the apprehensive author’s amazement, Houghton-Mifflin immediately asked for the whole enchilada.  Still believing the sheer size would result in rejection, Cooper mailed the next 500 pages.  The response was again swift and favorable, and the repeated request for the rest of the manuscript had an air of urgency.

Cooper summoned the courage to comply and anxiously awaited the verdict.  The publisher phoned in December 1951 to invite him to Boston to discuss the book, but the Texan got cold feet and begged off with the lame excuse that he was too busy to make the trip.

Weeks went by without a word from Houghton-Mifflin, and Cooper cursed himself for blowing the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.  He finally placed a long-distance call to Massachusetts only to discover that his book was a done deal and would be printed in its record-breaking entirety.

Enough readers bought the boxed, two-volume first edition at the unheard-of price of ten dollars to put Sironia, Texas on the New York Times best-seller list for 11 weeks.  Cooper basked in the glow of his hard-earned acclaim, which included several prestigious literary awards, and took pride in the fact that he had beaten his timetable by 18 years.

Wacoans naturally looked for their ancestors among the fictitious inhabitants of Sironia in spite of Matt Cooper’s emphatic assurance that he had not based any characters on real persons living or dead.  But when his files were deliberately destroyed after his death in 1956, folks could not help but wonder.

    “Secession & Civil War” – newest “Best of This Week in Texas History” collection available for $10.95 plus $3.25 postage and handling from Bartee Haile, P.O. Box 152, Friendswood, TX 77549 or order on-line at twith.com.

Mexican Bandits Hold ‘River Pilots’ For Ransom

Two “river pilots” on patrol over the international border on Aug. 10, 1919 mistook the Rio Conchos River for the Rio Grande and took a wrong turn deep into the Mexican interior.

A chronic burr under the Lone Star saddle since San Jacinto, Mexican bandits once again were making life miserable on the border, especially in the Big Bend.  Utilizing the latest technology in the war against this old menace, the Border Patrol took to the skies in June 1919.

From an airfield at Marfa, four biplanes flew daily surveillance over the shallow waterway separating Texas and Mexico.  Eagle-eyed “river pilots” scanned the barren landscape for any sign of the elusive outlaws.

While on routine patrol on Aug. 10, Lt. H.G. Peterson and Lt. Paul Davis became so confused they followed the Rio Conchos west into Mexico instead of setting a northerly course by the Rio Grande.  When the engine of their two-seater suddenly sputtered, the two were forced to make an emergency landing 80 miles inside Mexican territory.

After a picture-perfect touchdown, the young officers removed the machineguns from their disabled craft and hid the high-powered prizes in the brush.  Walking to a nearby hut, they met a friendly peasant who agreed to lead the lost gringos back to the border.

Six miles later, the trio was surrounded by a score of riders headed by Jesus Renteria, a former follower of Pancho Villa who had gone into business for himself.  Known as Gacho, he wore a steel hook in place of a severed hand.

Recognizing the potential profit in the chance encounter, Gacho ordered the fliers in flawless English to inform their superiors that the price of their freedom was $15,000 in cold American cash.  Given the choice of writing the ransom note or dying, the aviators obliged their host.

When the river pilots failed to return to base, civil and military authorities launched a massive air and ground search.  The hunt was seriously hampered by President Carranza, who true to form banned American planes from Mexican air space.

A Mexican boy riding a burro delivered the ransom note to a U.S. Army cavalry camp just over the border.  In a matter of hours, local ranchers raised the 15 grand, and Capt. Leonard Matlack was assigned the hazardous duty of arranging the exchange.

Negotiating by messenger, Matlack and Gacho ironed out the details of the swap.  Late in the evening of Aug. 18, the Mexican would flash a light from the hostile bank of the river, which would be the signal for the American to come alone with $7,500 for the first hostage.

Seeing no signal light, Matlack impatiently plunged ahead with the plan.  He located Lt. Peterson ready and waiting, handed Gacho’s henchmen the money and retraced his steps with the rescued hostage.

Depositing the grateful pilot in safe hands, the captain went back for his comrade.  Making his way slowly through the darkness, Matlack overheard a couple of bandits discussing in Spanish the tempting idea of killing both gringos and vamoosing with the loot.

Approaching the second pilot and his armed guard, Matlack whispered to Lt. Davis to jump aboard his horse.  The prisoner instantly complied, and the soldier whipped out a six-shooter in lieu of the balance due.

“Tell Gacho to go to hell!” Capt. Matlack shouted at the frozen bandits.  “He’s had his last American dollar!”  Before the dumbfounded Mexicans knew what had happened, the duo disappeared into the night.

A five-day expedition turned up no trace of the kidnappers, and the controversial incursion was marred by the execution of four Mexicans whose complicity in the crime was open to question.  Left in the custody of civilian scouts, the victims were gunned down as soon as the cavalry was out of earshot.

During the mischievous mission, two excited pilots reported killing a bandit with a hook.  Before a skeptical Matlack could confirm Gacho’s death, the jittery Army brass called of the chase rather than risk an international incident in a clash with government troops.

A few months later, Capt. Matlack sent a trusted Mexican agent to determine the fate of the bandit chieftain.  He discovered Gacho fit as a fiddle in a cantina.  After the airborne Americans had returned his fire, he played possum until they flew away.

In the public ovation that greeted the heroics of the courageous cavalryman, a U.S. Senator from New Mexico sounded a solitary sour note.  He argued that Capt. Matlack deserved to be court-martialed for refusing to pay the rest of the ransom.  But sanity prevailed, and the matter was dropped much to the embarrassment of the grandstanding politician.

Bartee Haile welcomes your comments, questions and suggestions at haile@pdq.net or P.O. Box 152, Friendswood, TX 77549.

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