Election Cycle?

"Cycle" is defined as a serious of repeating events. At one time, it was an accurate description of the process of electing a President. Since this is now a constant event, electing the President is now an "election drudgery".

You're welcome. Now you can better define your irritation at the constant bombardment of hype, rhetoric, and stupidity.


_ and I have to add a comment on the candidates: They don't sweat, they don't have blemishes, they wear makeup, and not a hair is out of place. It's like we're electing someone to accept the Academy Award, instead of someone to run the United States. We don't elect Presidents anymore; we elect the best supporting actor, or actress, in a movie loosely based on reality. 

Dodging the Bullet

Hurricane Patricia pumped a huge amount of moisture into the atmosphere. The moisture allowed a developing low over the Gulf of Mexico to have more than abundant rain.

Houston received up to 10 inches in some areas, which caused some flooding, but they were prepared, and it appears the damage will be minimal. Locally, it's in the three to five inch amount, which could have been more.

So, the storm is passing my area, most of the rain is in the Gulf of Mexico, and the future of the weather to the East, is soggy. Louisiana, and Mississippi are next.

 I have the feeling the low will track across the South, and the East Coast can expect a Nor'easter. It's that time of year, and this storm can be a surprise for many. It's more intense than the normal low, and it will bring much bad weather for those in its path.

School Bus Traffic Jam

I watched a school bus pull up to a day care center this evening. While this may be a common occurrence, the event was notable.

It took forever for the children to disembark. Not only were they oblivious of the time they were wasting, their handlers didn't seem to care. To add insult to injury, the children stepped from the bus, and appeared as though they were arriving somewhere they had never been before. Their slack-jawed wonder of something they've probably seen for months was an indication of an inability to process information; and expedite their way through life, without supervision to the age of twenty seven.

I know being a parent is tough, and teaching your children is a tough job, but teach them to haul ass, when they leave the school bus...and stop wasting my time.

Blue Jay Morning

Summer lost its hold over that last week. We had some hot days, but mornings were cooler, and a front on Friday brought more dry, cool air, so this morning is in the low sixties, and the promise of more deep blue skies; maybe filled with mare's tails, like yesterday.

I walked outside to feel the morning. The front had lost its punch, so the wind backing to the east is filling with moisture, and the crispness is waning. Still, it was a pleasant relief from the summer mornings, with temperatures pushing eighty degrees, and a humidity near 100 percent.

The blue jays were fussing in the distance; their sharp caws a warning to their own, and any other species that knows they do so to alert, or move a predator to other prey. I looked, and listened, as they moved my way.

The focus of their attention caught my eye, as it landed at the top of large white oak. The sunlight had not quite reached the top of the trees, so its plumage was dull in the increasing light.

It was a hawk; large, but not huge, so it took a few moments to determine the species. The plumage was familiar, but the solid tail didn't look the right color. Before the sun could find its perch, it flew away, as the blue jays landed on adjoining branches; calling for support and fussing.

I think it was it was a red tailed hawk; maybe a juvenile, or the light didn't accentuate the color of its tail. It was hard to tell in the dim light, but the solid tail, and plumage pattern was the same as a red tailed hawk.

I knew it was around, since I'd seen it in the evening, as it flew over the top of the trees. The blue jays always announced its presence, but its quick passage never allowed a closer look.

I'd found traces of its hunts. Strange clumps of dove feathers would be in the yard, but unlike that of a cat, there was no blood, or pieces of the dove, Finding its prey in flight, or perched in the top of a tree, the feathers were lost as the talons grasped the prey, and the quick acceleration removed clusters of feathers.

With the retreat of their enemy, the blue jays stopped their raucous complaint, and settled back into their morning routine. The rest of the birds did the same, and only the sounds of an awakening morning were left.

I stood for a moment longer, and went on my own hunt for a cup of coffee; my thoughts on the rich taste, and the start of a beautiful day. I think I'll sit on the back porch, and wait for the sun to rise above the trees.

Eric Clapton: Five Long Years

Slowing Down the Thoughts

I know I haven't been writing much. I go through phases where nothing sounds right, or picking out the words seems too tedious.

At first, I started to ignore the urge to write this morning, but something caught my eye, and it was too remarkable to ignore.

I was sitting on the back porch, watching as the first rays of the sun peeked through the trees. The air was clear, the temperature a little to warm to call brisk, and it was completely still.

The hummingbird feeder appeared as a brilliant globe of energy trapped between two red disks. As I watched, a female hummingbird came to feed; obviously a straggler, since she refused to perch on the edges.

Her wings were a dim blur, and the sunlight made it appear as if she was surrounded by field of light. As she fed, her tiny tongue darted into the feeder multiple times per second; tiny electrical discharges as she fed on pure energy.

She fed for a half dozen seconds, backed away, returned for another taste, and was gone; a small streak disappearing into the morning sky.

I had no camera, so the event was only etched into my memory; the words a poor attempt to document a sight too unique to allow to slip through the cracks of my thoughts.

Electronic Message Boards

I use them on projects. The electronic message board can be set up on the side of the shoulder and important messages programmed to alert drivers of upcoming traffic problems.

There are rules of how many lines and panels. That, and there is a list of approved abbreviations to help with the limited space for words. All, in all, they usually help, although I sometimes think they're more lawyer repellents, than public information.

I've never place anything objectionable on a board, although one message came to mind yesterday. Traffic was the usual fubared congregation of pinheads, and aggressive drivers that ignored the message board that warned them of a closed lane ahead.

The board was at least a mile from the lane closure, and warned of the right lane being closed. To a good driver, this means to immediately start making an effort to get in the left lane. To the dumbass, this means driving all the way to the barrels, and try to squeeze in. After all, their time is much more important than the time of everyone else.

My objectionable message?

First panel: "RIGHT LANE CLOSED AHEAD"

Second panel: "DUMBASSES MUST MERGE LEFT TOO"

That message would have led to many complaints, although a simple response from an official, such as: "I don't know why you're so upset, unless you're a dumbass." would have ended the conversation.

Anyway, some important things could be placed on the message boards. Unfortunately, people are so anal these days, somebody would have some health problem after reading their behavior described, and run off into the ditch.

It Knew (Re-Post)

It knew. It knew almost everything there was to know. Nothing ever discovered, that lived, was examined or happened was beyond its knowledge. The secrets of everything were known and nothing was missing.

The original formation was known. So was the combination of events that led to life, including physical phenomena and chance happenings that created the right moment.

All life forms, and their genetics were known. Every species was known; both living and extinct. There was no conjecture, or unknown events. Time periods almost incomprehensible allowed examination, research and the recreation of everything that happened and nothing was missed.

Now, on an impossibly tall platform placed to observe the heavens, and the adjoining planet, it was all that was left. Scanning constantly, nothing escaped its attention. It observed the dull light of a star that had long since died. Nuclear fusion was over. The final outcome of billions of years was almost inconsequential compared to the huge swirl of light accentuated by a large area of complete darkness.

Time passed on, yet stood still. The culmination of knowledge only waited, since there was nothing left to do, but observe and – maybe – be relieved of the constant waiting and allowed to pass the knowledge on.

There was only one empty section of knowledge that remained. Awaiting input, it could only accumulate what could be observed. The information was stored in the enormous archives available, or created in the moon it occupied. Energy was available from fusion. Machines could add more space, if necessary. Time had no meaning; data was constant and forever was a point without reference.

The creators were gone. Having passed through uncountable phases, they settled with an organic vessel. Machinery, even the most sophisticated, was incomplete for experiencing the unique experience called life. While it seemed life could be controlled, it never was. The fantastic constant modifications always gave new experiences that could never be anticipated. Unfortunately, this choice led to the departure. Organic forms couldn't survive here any longer. Ionizing radiation was far beyond what could be shielded.

So, now it was all that was left, with a purpose to pass on information. The charred remains of the third planet would mark the location where it began. If the original inhabitants returned, their new information could be added to the archive. They could add their experiences of travel to other galaxies, much younger than that what once was called the Milky Way; now greatly consumed by the central black hole. It was their beacon and marker; a sophisticated pile of rocks, which their ancestors used to mark their passage; an irony of myriads of millenniums.