Mr. C gone to the mountains for vacation

Timeless Battle Now In My Backyard

For years now I have had bird feeders hanging on my deck that were squirrel proof.  You see, I have a Florida Cracker style home with overhanging eves and I learned if I hung the feeders from under the eves, the squirrels had no way to get to them.

Oh they would try.  Every trick in the book.  They would climb up the window screens and leap, but it was too far.  They would leap from the deck rail, but it was too far.  They would get on the roof and try to hang down and swing over to the wire holding the feeder, but it was too far.  They would make kamikaze free falls from the roof, to no avail. It's not at all unusual for me to be watching TV and out of the corner of my eye see a squirrel falling past the window in another failed attempt.  Thump!  Onto the deck.

What a great feeling it is to know you have out smarted a squirrel.  I was content.  Even smug.

Then, a few days ago a big commotion erupted in the living room.  The dogs were raising hell and definitely after something.  I ran from the study to see what was going on.

It turned out that a squirrel had figured out that if he ran up the window screen and leaped at the bird feeder that even though he couldn't get into it, he could at least hit it and knock some of the seeds out.  Of course, the actual leap was preceded by several attempts as the dogs, attended by ferocious growling and barking, attacked the window and the squirrel, less than an inch away, lost his nerve and bailed out.

Dogs and squirrel, face to face.

Finally, after enough of this, I simply took the screen out of the window.  Confused, the squirrel made several attempts at an impossible to hold onto glass surface, and gave up.

And then it happened.   I nearly dropped my chips and dip, and did spill my beer as I walked into the living room and saw it... a squirrel sitting in the bird feeder happily munching away.  How could it be?

I immediately ran over and banged on the window causing the little bugger to leap for his life.  For hours thereafter I watched to see how he did it, but every time he would get onto the window screen, the dogs made another mad, noisy rush to the window and scared him off.  Finally, he figured out that the dogs couldn't hurt him and the drama played itself out.

Squirrel on deck rail checking out the feeders above.  Dogs at the ready.

 

It turned out that the squirrel had figured out that if he ran up the screen diagonally and leaped as hard as he could, he could reach the Promised Land.

Squirrel on a flyer.

Oh well.  So now I have two screen-less windows... and some peace and quiet.  I no longer feel so smug as I've yet to figure out a permanent solution but I have learned that animals are creatures of habit and once the squirrel has reconciled himself to being unable reach the feeders, I can put the screens back until about six months from now when he figures it out all over again.


Don't feel too sorry for him however.  I feed the squirrels handfuls of sunflower seeds every morning and afternoon when I put the bird seed out.  They can't have it all.

Oh Lord! What have I done?

I came from a family that couldn't afford to send me to college.  I had to work my way through with the help of the G.I. Bill, which I earned by serving four years in the Air Force.  So, I have little sympathy for those who whine about how difficult or expensive it is to get a college education.  Where there's a will, there's a way.

Besides, a piece of paper from one of today's diploma mills pretty much does nothing more than guarantee you'll spend the rest of your life working for someone else, but that's another story.

This story is about my oldest daughter and when it came time for her to go to college.

As luck would have it, this time came not long after her mother and I had separated and both of us were struggling to get back on our feet financially.  But we were determined to make it easier for her than it was for us and decided the best and most affordable route was for daughter to get an associate's degree from a community college and then transfer to a major university to finish out.  The same route I took.

By doing this, all she needed was a little part-time job to help with living expenses and her mother and I would take care of everything else.

Needless to say, we were both distressed and angry when daughter decided, a year-and-a-half into her two year degree, that she wanted to join several of her friends and attend out-of-state Auburn University in Alabama.  By doing so, she would lose virtually all of the college credits earned so far.  A year-and-a-half pissed down the drain.

I was very angry and told her, "I can't stop you, but if you do this, you're on your own.  There is no way in hell I can afford out-of-state tuition."

Determined, she went anyway.  She got around part of the problem by transferring to a community college that accepted many of her earned credits and where she could live with friends and establish residency, greatly reducing the cost of tuition.  But still, she was on her own.  She was going to have to work her way through school.

Things were pretty rough.  She took jobs in the service industry and struggled to make ends meet.  But all the while, she continued her studies and soon transferred to the university.  I truly couldn't help much, but now and then I would send her a little and helped her buy a car, etc.

Then one day I got an excited phone call, she had landed a coveted job as a bartender at The Supper Club, where the money was really good.  While I wasn't crazy about the idea of my little angel being a bartender, I did like the idea of her working at a supper club where she would at least be around a higher class clientele.

A few months later I decided to pay her a visit and drove up to "The Loveliest Village On The Plains."  Auburn really is a pretty little village.  A typical college town, dominated by the university and all that surrounds it, but the town itself, the neighborhoods and surrounding farmlands, is quite lovely.

Daughter went out of her way to entertain Daddy.  She directed me to the big old barn of a house she shared with three other girls and they all pitched in to make me feel at home.  They even made me dinner which we, of course, ate off of paper plates.  It was a lovely evening and when it came time for daughter to go to work, off we went to the supper club.

I protested that I needed to return to my motel to change into some nicer clothes but was assured by daughter that jeans and t-shirt were fine.  Still, I felt uneasy going to a nice club looking like a slob.

After a short drive to the outskirts of town, we pulled off of the road and into the unpaved parking lot of a run-down, concrete block honky-tonk.  Across the front of the faded orange and blue building was emblazoned, "The War Eagle Supper Club!"

My heart sank.  Oh Lord, what have I done.  I've thrown my little girl to the wolves.

As we walked up to the front door of the windowless building my heart sank even lower.  Next to the front door was a plywood ticket booth with a sign that read "Memberships."  This was another one of those "private" clubs designed to skirt the laws of a dry county which allow only private clubs to serve alcohol.  The price of admission was your club "membership." 

Once inside things only got worse.  It was a dump.  Beat up tables and chairs.  Broken linoleum tile floor.  Black ceiling with black lights.  A mosh pit dance floor.  The men's urinal was a tiled floor level trough that ran the entire length of one wall.  But I did note that as foul as it looked, the place was clean and there was no expected odor of stale cigarettes.

Soon daughter had the entire staff out to meet Daddy.  They were all as friendly and warm to me as possible and it was clear, they all loved my daughter.  Drinks were on the house for Daddy.

As the college-aged crowd started to arrive, I took the time to wander around and take a closer look at the place.  The one thing that struck me right off was how friendly the staff were to their patrons and, more importantly, to each other.  As the evening went on, it was clear that they were not only friends, but good friends, family.  Laughing and joking with each other, always willing to give someone a hand. The owner, John, looks out for his "people."

Out back was a BBQ pit, a volleyball court, and an old school bus with a front tag that read, No DUI.  Anytime a patron got too tipsy to drive their keys were confiscated and they were given a ride home, at no charge.

The place was packed.  On football weekends it was not unusual for daughter to bring home $300-$400 in tips each night.  To give you a better idea of how popular this place is, the bands play for the gate receipts.  I am told that on one football weekend, a very popular band collected $12,000 over two nights @ $2 a head admission.  Simple math tells you that 6,000 patrons came through the Supper Club over that two night period.  Supper Club alumni include Dave Matthews and Taylor Hicks.

My fears were totally unfounded.  It turns out that what appeared to be neglect and carelessness was actually brilliant business sense.  This place was designed so that no amount of student or football fan partying and abuse could damage it and it could be cleaned with a fire hose.  It was the ideal spot for kids to let off steam in a safe, non-violent environment.

A year or so later, daughter graduated.  I swelled with pride and tears filled my eyes when her name was called and she walked onto the stage to receive her diploma.

She did it on her own.

How To Pick Up A Fat Chick

Darwin Award Candidate #1

A Russian finalist at the World Sauna Championships in Finland died Saturday and the event was suspended, according to the organizers, the AP reported.

Both of the events finalists, Russia's Vladimir Ladyzhensky and Finland's Timo Kaukonen, were rushed to the hospital after collapsing during the competition, in which contestants are made to endure temperatures of 230 degrees Fahrenheit (110 degrees Celsius) for as long as they can.  Ladyzhensky later died.

WTF?  A sweating contest??  Maybe we Americans aren't the biggest dumbasses in the world after all.

The End Of The Internet As We Know It

Excerpted from an article in the Huffpost by Josh Silver.


For years, Internet advocates have warned of the doomsday scenario that will play out on Monday: Google and Verizon will announce a deal that the New York Times reports "could allow Verizon to speed some online content to Internet users more quickly if the content's creators are willing to pay for the privilege." 

The deal marks the beginning of the end of the Internet as you know it. Since its beginnings, the Net was a level playing field that allowed all content to move at the same speed, whether it's ABC News or your uncle's video blog. That's all about to change, and the result couldn't be more bleak for the future of the Internet, for television, radio and independent voices. 

How did this happen? We have a Federal Communications Commission that has been denied authority by the courts to police the activities of Internet service providers like Verizon and Comcast. All because of a bad decision by the Bush-era FCC. We have a pro-industry FCC Chairman who is terrified of making a decision, conducting back room dealmaking, and willing to sit on his hands rather than reassert his agency's authority. We have a president who promised to "take a back seat to no one on Net Neutrality" yet remains silent. We have a congress that is nearly completely captured by industry. Yes, more than half of the US congress will do pretty much whatever the phone and cable companies ask them to. Add the clout of Google, and you have near-complete control of Capitol Hill.

This is a serious mega-money takeover folks.  It won't be long before it's like network television only this time, you will be paying to see commercials.  Don't know who to complain to but your local congressman is a good start.

China Cat Sunflower Festival - Remembering Jerry Garcia

This week, fifteen years ago, Jerry Garcia left this world.  For those who loved him, it was a tragic loss.  Few musicians in history can claim such a devoted following and to this day, no other musical group has filled as many venues as often as the Grateful Dead in their 30-year career.

photo by: Bruce Lipsky, FL Times-Union

One of the most devoted Deadheads I know is my dear friend Brenda Starr Walker; yoga instructor, massage therapist, earth mother.  Not long after Jerry's death, Brenda decided to celebrate his life with a festival celebrating his birthday, August 1st, and so the China Cat Sunflower Festival was born.

 Fifteen years later, it's still going.  Although this year's claims to be the last.

Patterned after the famous parking lot villages at Grateful Dead concerts, fondly known as Shakedown Street, the festivals are pretty much a free-for-all.  Musicians, bands, street performers, vendors are all welcome but it's every man for himself.  This isn't a highly organized event.

There are, of course, all of the usual suspects:

Music from the Dead fills the air as the hoola-hoopers keep time.  This girl was pretty good, although not on par with the one over at Punch's.




 





No Dead tribute would be complete without a drum circle and dancers.










 
A tribute to Jerry.















It wasn't long before the sky clouded over and a summer afternoon thunderstorm formed, right on top of the party or course.

The festival was held in a really nice city park built under the I-95 bridge, but it wasn't cover enough for sideways rain and pretty soon the tell-tale rain drops began to appear.






This year's festival probably will be the last as Brenda is moving deep into the country where she's built herself a Yurt and intends to develop a yoga and holistic health center.  It's probably just as well that it's the last festival as a goodly percentage of the crowd at this year's event were curiosity seekers there because of a feature article in the local newspaper, not for the music or the memories.


It's the passing of an era which, to me, is sad on several fronts.  For one, I miss the "good vibes" Deadhead community which seems to be largely missing in today's music and culture, and, I really miss Jerry Garcia.  Jerry had just reunited with David Grisman a year or so before his death and the music these two giants made together promised to become the pinnacle of the Americana-folk genre.  Acoustic eclectic at its best.


I miss you Jerry, but I am eternally grateful for what you left behind.