I finished reading “Eden Found” just when the phone rang. It was Alaine, who seemed surprised I had got through it but I say it remains an impressive effort, if only for the historical speculations. I also finished chapter one of the medical text [written by Alaine’s father] and have a few questions. One thing I never could understand about medicine is the tiny quantities of a dosage. How can one-tenth of a milligram of anything do any good?
We are still in the deep freeze which means I was up to the library for a few hours. They’ve finally blocked all youTube downloads, so I read. When I was in grade school, all the boy’s books for scouting and such were written by Englishmen. I was ever amazed at how casually they would suggest as a weekend project to build a canoe or a go-kart. It left me believing that every kid in the world except myself had spare gear lying all over the place. Diesel engines, glider tugs, fishing ponds and the like.One project, a novelty scope, always stuck in my mind, because only rich kids could build it. But I could not do it because of the absence of little mirrors of the correct diameter. The cost of having these cut was not chump change. Today, I read about a potential source of small mirrors, namely old CDs. Ah, you say, but how to you cut them into the right shape. The trick, which I have not yet tried, is to boil the CD in hot water for five minutes and then cut very slowly with regular shears.
I braved a good 16 miles on the scooter in the cold, including a trip to Wal*Mart for motorcycle oil. It was fine, as I still have my phone company winter jacket and gloves. If I had a momma to pack I could keep my back warm, too. Since nothing can get done in this weather, I was back at Barnes & Noble for late afternoon until dark. Again, I saw babes, real ones and not the rather tough versions you get along Federal.
One explanation for so much driving around is that I’m catching up on all manner of things that I’ve put off since I last had transportation. My monitor shows no increase in stress or blood pressure and that is, to me, very good news. Did I say very good news? As I left the bookstore, who do I meet heading for K-Mart and some Xmas shopping but Arnel. He isn’t playing the beach these days.
Never one to rush bands much, I mulled over the possibilities and opportunities with Staci. Compromise seems to be the cautious and correct approach. Without straining anything, we could likely put together 20 songs in a few weeks. If she wants me to sing, we have the minimum 32 songs already—but whatever is she to do when I’m singing? Those who say just grab a tambourine and play along have never seen my solo act. She is already showing signs of wanting to join a band rather than form one. Singers often have that point of view.
Something will suggest itself. I’ll give them (her and husband) time to talk things over, as I’m sure I detected my little 60 second lecture on keeping things simple seems to have profoundly impressed them. It was like something they knew must be possible but had never before met a disciple who spelled it out like I did, then go on to prove it.
Another murder mystery has my attention, this one is “Contents Under Pressure”, by a Miami Herald reporter. This signed hardcover edition must be returned to Alaine. Quite well written, no repeats and plenty of first-hand tidbits from Crime City, the nickname for Miami since the Cubans arrived. Touches repeatedly on how the police hate public records and would prefer to operate in secrecy.
[Author’s note: Now some may say I’m hard on the Cubans. Maybe. But the author, Buchanan, is the same reporter who covered the torture and murder of my best friend's grandparents by two Cubans back in the 90s. I’ll let you decide on your own definition of what is harsh.]
I’ve also had time to reach conclusions about “Eden Found”, whose author is in jail for a drug-related offense ( I have permission to mention that, although it means nothing to me since the cops never catch the kingpins). If only he’d re-title it to something more contemporary, it has potential although the actual theme of Dead Sea Scrolls is a bit lightweight. There is a clear portrayal of the whacked out ideas of the Palestinians who think Israel is their homeland. It isn’t. Read your history books.
Palestinians complain they can’t goat herd on land their grandparents sold to the Zionists. What part of sold don’t they understand? Or complain the Israelis cut off electric and bus service whenever they go on strike. It's not liek they even had electricity before the Jews arrived. Yet it is clear their society is much like ours, where the smart people are really smart and the stupid people are really stupid. Except our stupid people don’t go around murdering hostages in the name of God quite as often.
You see, our culture, via welfare and state-encouraged complacency, rewards people for being stupid, which stays them from getting overly religious. The book raises the old question if the USA loves Jews so much, with all our land and money, why don’t we give them a homeland to settle here? We have. It’s called New York.
Seriously, I’m reminded of the book “Voyage of the Damned”, in which dozens of countries who criticized the Nazi German’s for maltreating the Jews also refused to admit those Jews into their nations. Then again, my family is proof a little hypocrisy on a daily basis is nothing the basely ignorant can’t live with.
Happy birthday, Eatmore. If I knew where you were, I’d give you a call or send you a letter. It’s been far too long. It was freezing cold with no clouds in the sky all day. Something like that February we were 19 and that November we were 21. Temp: 49.7. Press: 30.11. Humid: 69.0.
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