UUuaaauuu (the Melanesian Frog God)

& other quasi-esoteric thinly-veiled nonsense

1. It’s as if Betty advertised for musicians to sing harmony with her –  we went out and bought a “box”.  She sings, and the device (‘box’) facilitates voices (hers, but tweaked) which are a “third” and/or a “fifth” above and/or below hers – HARMONIZING with whatever she’s singing.  She doesn’t need me anymore for accompaniment!

 

and it may be not only possible, but perhaps PROBABLE that we’ll be slightly more ‘dangerous’, musically, now.  We’ll take this PUBLIC, soon.

2. the confetti-covered thing which presumably will reveal itself in time

Betty got a package in the mail from her friend in NYC and we suspect that it’s some sort of Buddhism statue to spend the (w)rest of its daze in our garden.  She was going to peel off the confetti, but I counseled that

wouldn’t it be more appropriate, and mysterious, that we place it AS IS, looking like a block of confetti (with some sort of stone handle out the top), out in whatever garden area and let the seasons, the rains, the winds, the cats mutilating and defecating around it, gradually reveal it’s true whatever?

3. UUaauu.  This is something I remember from Mad Magazine many years ago.  I think there was an article, a compendium of college courses, one of which studied pagan religions.  Melanesian Frog Worship was prominently featured.  Also I remember a course entitled “Underwater-Basket-Weaving (recommend for students with no future plans of any kind).”  My middull-skool (and later high? skool) friends had a chant, starting with

¿ Who is the greatest God of All?  (yes, say it loud, say it proud   OOOOOO AAAAA  OOOOO !) and this would go on for as many verses as we could conjure up at whatever time.  Many more verses if beer was involved.

4. pixures NOT of the work.  Uh, sorry – I took some photos of work I was doing, and some not necessarily of the work.  They should be scattered thru-out this blog post with little or no relevance to whatever rantNrave is nearby.

Look up “Ridgway, Colorawdough” (‘cept my spellingkh of the state naim may not help). Many pixures are of the horizon, mostly to the south (San Juan Range), the east (Owl Creek Ridge) and some to the west (HorseFly Peak).  I had rarely seen sandhill cranes on the ground before.  Every day, as I drove through Delta (also in Colorado) I would see dozens, hundreds, feeding and hanging out.  As you will attest, my photos of the birds did NOT turn-out exceptionally.  Un-focused sandhill cranes.

5. Practicing hockey-fighting —  I continue to try to learn new skills.  A recent Wednesday night pick-up game, I decided it was time to not only continue with my ever-diminishing goalie skills, I should try to initiate hockey fights.  A young (my daughter could be his younger aunt) friend of mine said he had never scored on me before, until a month ago.  Now he tries for a hat-trick, at a minimum, per game.  Last game he scored, and held up TWO FINGERS, taunting me, as he would soon get the trick.  Next time he scored I threw off my gloves and went after him.  He had played real hockey, and in short order had pulled my jersey up and over my head.  It’s hard to see, and fight, when your jersey is over your head.

Ray, the sort of guy anyone would go after regardless of whatever he did, or didn’t do, scored on me and also exulted … a little.  I decided I’d REALLY go after him the next time that happened, which was about two minutes later.  He, too, was pretty skilled at the jersey-over-my-helmet thing.  I asked him to help pull the jersey back down.  (Ray is pretty good at getting the opponent’s jersey over the helmet in such a way it might stay that way a while).  Now I know I have to avoid that maneuver and try it myself, given the chance.  (As I write this, such an opportunity might present itself in less than two hours.  Yes, the Wednesday nite pick-up starts soon).

Somewhat coincidental:  i go and play (the game) once a week, but go at other times to play the nashunull anthem for the local University team’s home games.  And sometimes for the local Jr. Developmental League home games.

Okay, I went off to “do” the pick-up, never had so much fun doing this ever, because:

There were a few lessons learned tonight.  Paramount is:  if you’re used to playing ice-hockey-goalie-as-a-senior-citizen while impaired by alcohol (one must refrain from doing this while more than half-drunk) — definitely consider the implications of playing not-only-while-impaired but also under the influence of cannabis …

Well, right now it’s too late.  Thad sat in the locker-room corner, getting dressed.  Every few minutes he’d pull out a glass device and suck on it.  At first I thought he had an asthma inhaler.  I walked by on my way out of the room and asked “Is that what I think it is?”  It was.  He offered it to me.  Being a “vape virgin” I didn’t know how to activate the thing.

One big puff, I started coughing (we all know we’re in trouble when THAT starts happening), and that’s all it took.  I was ka-zanga-d.  After the initial paranoia and occasional sheer terror the game became quite fun.  But it had better be a long time before I do that again!

I came home and Betty asked howdiddittgo? and I said:

“Would you rather I just went to the bar and stared at a big TV or got STONED and played hockey?” and she didn’t answer right away.

“You … what?!”

6. Practicing retirement?  Don’t ask.

Yes, Groot is alive, though maybe not well, just outside of Montrose.

The patterns of un-melted snow on the hillsides.  Most mornings I drive the 60+ miles to the office and have yet to get bored with what I consider to be akin to, yes, kissing.  The first blush on the ridge-top as the hints of the rays-of-the-sun are mustering to bridge the gap, like a spark between two terminals.  The seemingly incomprehensible brightly-lit cloud amongst its sulking still-unlit neighbors.  The radiance of the hill-top as the light strikes, like an arrow, and the shadows vanquishing as the daylight flows down.  Everything in the Valley shrouded, except for a solitary glowing peak – extremely mysterious as how did THAT get lit while nothing else is?

(No I don’t have any pictures depicting the phenomenon I’m attempting to describe, but these’ll hafta dew …)

And also the stars.  I sometimes “fix” north by finding Ursa Major; Orion (battling Taurus) is usually towards the zenith; and I’ll track Venus, Mars, Jupiter and sometimes Saturn and Mercury any pre-dawn morning when the lack of clouds permit.

11. Iff eye wuzz   the DIK TAY TORR of this country:  There are several things a Dictator can and should do.

I would reduce the number of seats in the House Of Reprehensibles by half.  Why not?  We don’t need 400+ bickering inertial ineffective people who probably couldn’t get a real job, when half that number will do.  (Of course we’ll keep the Senate as is – as a chamber where each state is equal to all others is a good idea).  There must be many other government agencies which should undergo a good pruning.

There are several reprobates continuing their rotten lives in prison.  Why not have some fun?  Consider taking James Holmes (the Aurora movie-theater mass-murderer) out of the cell and putting him naked, in a parking garage.  Once a year we’ll do this.  Victims of his outrage, or relatives of those deceased by him, heck, anybody who wants to, will also go into the garage with either BB or paint-ball guns and have fun chasing him around for half an hour.  We will also do this annual treatment for other prison celebrities.  The Boston Marathon bomber?  Yeah, I’d have fun chasing him through a parking garage, shooting away with my paintball gun and stinging his naked butt.  I am not really sure what purpose this would serve, but there are, no doubt, many people with vengeance in their hearts.  We might charge people a couple hundred dollars to take part in this, and definitely stick a big bill to whatever media wants to film/cover – make it worth our while!

Don’t you, like me? hate how much money is WASTED on political campaign advertising?  I would DECREE that half of all political campaign funds raised for any election, be it county, state, nation-wide, be put into a fund.  This fund would not be used for political campaigns and advertising, but re-directed to whatever useful purpose I and my circle of advisors decide upon.  One year the whole bag of money could go entirely to highway-and-bridge infrastructure; next year we might feed hungry people and get them started farming all over the world.  At least all that money from “Amerikins 4 prosperity” and “Idiots who want to abolish science instruction”, etc. won’t entirely go to numbing our brains via the air-waves and newspapers.

I would try to right all wrongs, and then consider how to left all rights.

Foreign Aid?  this will undergo close scrutiny.  We will gradually back off supporting the Saudi Royal Smegmatoid, for example.  Unless we see increased equality for women, and, ideally, a lessening of continued greed and opulence among the pampered flabby-brains of the “Royal family”, the U.S. will lessen its so-called defense of such an archaic and out-of-touch with the real world system.   And if only we could go back in time and retrieve the many billions lost to bribes, graft, corruption, etc. almost everywhere we’ve “done business.”

  (Yard yummeez!)

As Dick-taytur of the country, I would also find an area where those who simply don’t “get it” or refuse to undergo what I (and, hopefully, you?) consider evolution, would be re-located to.  Perhaps we could fence-off Arkansas (or maybe Nebraska, or Ohio, or Oklahoma (but not the panhandle, as Colorado doesn’t want direct contact with Texas), or, did someone say “panhandle”? – the Texas panhandle), and whoever we don’t want (nor think it’s a good idea they go anywhere else), we move them there.  Mean people (doesn’t matter what kind of “mean-ness” –> to other people or animals or plants!) who don’t respond to efforts to reform them would all live there.  Same with the KKK, Aryan Bruthurhood, gang-bangers, pimps, the guy who buys all the wild horses and re-sells them to slaughterhouses, anyone who knowingly sells rotten food – behind the fence.  And only in this area will country and rap music be allowed to be played.  Country music, as everyone knows, subconsciously encourages inbreeding; and rap “music” isn’t.  Music.

Heroin! for death by lethal injection.  We’ve all heard about the quandary of executing death-row inmates has sometimes been complicated by the questionable effectiveness of the drugs administered … Well, I think that many, perhaps most, police departments in major cities and jurisdictions have quantities of narcotics in evidence-rooms – or probably hidden somewhere for the policeperson’s retirement funds.  Why not heroin over-doses?  I suspect many people in the U.S. die EACH DAY due to that!  Anyway, if I were on death row, I think it’d be more fun to face the firing squad.  I’d smoke my first cigarette!  and hopefully without the blindfold.