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Okay, I’ll admit it. It was a rough weekend here at the compound/Lake Mountebank. First of all, the weather didn’t make for a great Memorable Memorial Day Weekend. Monday was the best day weather-wise, but it was also “get-the-drunks-in-their-oil-leaking-RVs-the-hell-off-the-property-day” so we were busy shooing people in RVs back onto the road.
The biggest lesson learned for me was that we need a security team for events here at the compound. Sunday afternoon things got a little tense when two of the “happy” campers at Lake Mountebank squared off with dangerous weapons. No, it wasn’t the switchblades that HRH Mary of Fallin is determined to put in the hands of every Oklahoman. Nope, these two knuckleheads were circling each other with sporks. Don’t think a spork can be a dangerous weapon? Think again friends. These two mutts were circling one another trying to get an angle to scoop out an eyeball. Yeesh! Note to self: In future compound events serve only food that can be eaten with hands. Oh sure, the individually-wrapped biodegradable utensil conflict was most likely fueled by a little too much Korean plum wine hooch. Mr. Kim spent most of Saturday going from RV to RV in the rain with a goatskin wine bag proffering “samples” in exchange for “donations”…a generally agreeABLE situation (nyuk, nyuk), don’t you think? Note to self: In future compound events water-down the drinks to the point that they become sports hydration fluids. Okay, enough of that nonsense. On to more pressing matters. Last week, we at CCB turned a story from the Woodward News about an escapee from William S. Key (whose motto translated from the Latin means, “Here’s a Bag of Oreos, the TV Remote, and the Keys to Your Cell…Now Behave!”) into a scathing revelation of how a misspelled word can give a completely different context to the subject at hand. We at CCB are happy to report that last week’s escapee has been captured after stealing a pickup in Woodward and driving to Texas (whose state motto translated from the Latin means, “Give Us Your Dumbass Escapees, We’ll Change the Oil in Their Stolen Pickup”). But, I digress…the Country Club otherwise known as William S. Key Correctional Center in Ft. Supply had two more of its members escape early Monday morning. According to a story in the Woodward News by our favorite Staff Writer, Rachael Van Horn, the two escapees were accounted for at the 3AM prisoner count. At 4AM, the two were due to be awakened for kitchen duty and dummies were found in their beds. Sigh…bet the dummies found in their beds were guards from William S. Key Country Club. They probably needed a few zzzzz’s before the day shift took over. Okay, this is three escapes in one week…gee, me thinks there’s a problem? Maybe it’s time to start running the prison like a real prison with real locks and tall fences and guarded gates and stuff. Are the guards keeping their bullets in their shirt pockets and not actually putting them into their guns? Wait, the guards do have guns, don’t they? WTF???? This has been going on for years. They bring in new wardens, all of whom assure the chamber of commerce that there’s a new marshal in town and things will be different. Uh huh. Here’s an idea…and granted my experience with law enforcement is confined to: a few citations for moving violations (I was framed); the time I was mugged in Arlington, Virginia (I was mugged); oh, and the time someone stole the four wheels off my ’94 Toyota Tercel (also, in Arlington, VA), but maybe they should consider putting a fence around the damned place to keep the inmates…oh, I don’t know…IN. Maybe put a little razor wire along the top of the fence. It’s worked up to this point in Guantanamo Bay. Seriously, enough is enough. Oh, by the way, if you happen to see a couple of dudes in prison garb hanging out at the water park or sneaking across the golf course, they’re probably not caddies. Give the Woodward County Sheriff’s Office a call at 580-256-3264. Oh, and if you’re a prisoner…er, member…of the William S. Key Country Club and you plan to escape…I would advise you to avoid coming to the compound. Where I live, I AM 911. Just sayin… I was all set this morning to launch into a posting about inmates riding away from prison on a lamb, but I done been preempted.
In case you missed it, yesterday’s (5/21) Woodward News (whose motto, translated from the Latin means “Idioms Are Us”) had on the front page an article entitled “Inmate Still on the Lamb”…even used the word Lamb in the body of the article. Okay, if you still don’t get it, it should have been “Inmate Still on the Lam”…which makes use of an idiom as an editorial device, which most newspaper editors are wont to do. As I sat on the front porch of the compound contemplating that, there was an article below it on the front page about Newman Memorial Hospital shutting down some of its services, specifically, obstetrics and surgical services. It was another busy front page at Woodward News. But, Rachael Van Horn preempted me with her mea culpa in this morning’s paper on the editorial page. Seems she took a dose of grief yesterday for composing the headline with Lamb instead of Lam. I even noticed that the News’ web site had changed the title to “Inmate Still on the Loose”. Same scary looking dude’s photo, different title. Frankly, he was a lot less scary when you thought of him riding his saddled lamb pell-mell across the plains. So, I guess I’ll stop mentioning the mistake…for now. Maybe it’s time to start talking about the William S. Key Correctional Revolving Door Center and why these guys keep escaping. OH…I know…there are no walls or fences to keep them in! Judas priest… Back to the situation with the Shattuck hospital. Newman Memorial Hospital has served the Shattuck community and indeed much of the Southern Great Plains for years. Back in the day, it was known as the Mayo Clinic of the Plains. It earned that reputation by providing quality, leading edge medical services to people living in this region. I was born in the old Newman Memorial building. My grandmother used to laughingly tell people that they burned down the hospital after I was born. Actually, they did. A more modern building rose from the ashes and continued to serve those who had long come to depend on its facilities and staff. I suppose this is the latest example of the reality of healthcare in America today. Institutions that once held as their primary focus the health and care of its local population must now either compete with the really large “chain” hospitals or cut services. While I was pleased to see that the hospital will continue to operate with 24/7 emergency care, rehabilitative services, etc…honestly, it’s probably only a matter of time before those disappear as well. In the end, it would be nice if the idiots in the Congress and the White House could actually sort all of this out so that those of us who choose to live in rural America have easy access to the same quality of care as those who choose live in the larger cities. Just sayin’. Oh…quick update on Lake Mountebank. We’ve had a steady stream of RVs driving past the gates of the compound. Guess they’re checking out what we have to offer after being turned away from Ft. Supply. I did notice that the Woodward News this morning had a piece that showed RV and tent campsites are still available at Roman Nose and other state parks. Thanks Woodward News! I’m considering asking the brother-in-law to bring his front-end loader back over to move a lot of debris into the road just beyond the compound. That will force the RVs to at least pull in here. After that, I figure they’ll just stay once they see all of our great facilities that we’ve slap-dashed together. Have a great weekend everybody…stay safe! I’m happy to report that nearly all is in place for the Memorable Memorial Day Weekend here at Lake Mountebank (aka, the compound). If you’ve been following the exploits of getting things done here at the compound, then you know it’s been an adventure. If you haven’t been paying attention…then, why aren’t you or maybe you’re just new to Cosmic City Blog? Just keep scrolling down, it’ll fall into place for you.
Honestly, the only thing we’re missing are hordes of savage holiday-fun-seeking-RV-people ready to pay out hard-earned cash for the privilege to…eh, whatever. Please send us your hordes of RVs…we’ll give ‘em homemade hooch. We have boat ramps that will double as ski runs in the winter. We have adult refreshments. We have toilet facilities imported all the way from western Arkansas (only the best for you). We have coin-operated electrical hook-ups for your RVs, but no sewage hook-ups. We even have a band for Saturday night with quality entertainment provided by Wiley Piemore and His Prairie Dawgs. Wiley and the boys will be performing songs from their new album, “Beloved Tunes of Western Reggae Swing”. We have a food vendor - WR’s Taco and Bierox Emporium in Shattuck. They’ll will be serving up all your favorite Mexican and German cuisine. I’ve asked the sister’s son, (aka, the nephew), to come out here today to help me build enclosures for championship badger wrestling and a rabid skunk petting zoo. Now, that’s quality family fun. I’ve also been working to get a few extras actors from the real Hollywood to stop by, but everyone I’ve tried to contact is either in Cannes selling t-shirts or dead. We even have a MAD woman on the porch here at the compound, muttering to herself. What more do you people want!? Eh, I figure things will pick up once the park rangers at Ft. Supply and Canton begin turning people away because all of their less-quality, no-entertainment RV sites are taken. By the way, we figured out last night that we really can’t sell Mr. Kim’s Korean Plum Wine hooch out of the RV. Apparently, you have to have a state license to open a bar…even a mobile bar…stupid state laws. So, instead, we’re just giving it away (can you say, “party, party, party”). But we would very much appreciate your (ahem) “tipping” Mr. Kim. Also, just so you know, we’ve parked Mr. Kim’s RV far away from the actual campgrounds. Frankly, with the fumes emanating from the tank of plum wine hooch it’s probably a fire hazard and at any rate is causing a contact high for anyone within 50 feet. But, I digress… So in between digging out boat ramps and setting up luxurious high-quality plastic facilities imported from Arkansas, I took a little time to catch on the type of news that has made CCB famous. I came across an interesting, albeit somewhat confusing article on the Huffington Post site. The article described a recent tirade by North Korean Supreme Leader Kim Jong Un (no relation to our Mr. Kim – I checked). He was upset at terrapin (fancy Korean word for turtle or alumni from the University of Maryland – take your pick) farmers for failing in their efforts to raise lobsters. I know…huh? Supreme Leader Kim said that the farm is out dated and (horror of horrors) not revolutionary enough. Dang. As I was reading that I was trying to figure out why you would expect turtle farmers to be able to breed lobsters? Hmmm...both have a shell, I suppose, though the lobster’s is actually an exoskeleton. The comparisons end there, me thinks. One gives off a funk that my mutt, Molly, likes to roll around on. The other looks like a pissed-off giant Florida cockroach. Seems to me this is like telling Oklahoma beef producers to start raising South American scarrittias. Both are mammals, both are hoofed animals. But, it ends there…scarrittias are extinct. Hahaha Supreme Leader was most upset that his pet (he wanted to name his lobsters) project, a two-year lobster breeding program has never gotten off the ground (or in this case, into the tank). He blamed the failure on a “manifestation of incompetence, out-moded ways of thinking, and irresponsible work style.” Wow…that had to sting. After reading the article, it really got me to thinking. Maybe that sort of hard-nosed regime-style leadership is what’s needed to get the morons that comprise the state government to get their collective act together and do something substantive that doesn’t involve collecting cash “donations” from the people you’re supposed to be regulating to pay off your family’s debts or offering to become the human torch or (as I recently read about) pressing the wrong button during a critical vote. Maybe there’s a lesson in leadership through intimidation for Her Royal Highness Mary of Fallin in Supreme Leader Kim’s style. The morons in the State Legislature aren’t getting anything done…publicly shame them and call them morons. ODOT is using the gestation period of a Javan rhino (19 months) as the timeline for completing one corner of an intersection that a six-year-old with a Tonka truck could have done in one week? Call them out on it. Oklahoma Wildlife Counters eating up too much time and resources on a project that in the big picture of things doesn’t amount to squat? Take their helicopters away and tell them get a job…a real job…no more fake counting jobs. I guess the big difference between the leadership styles of Supreme Leader and HRH is that if you piss of Supreme Leader you get disappeared. HRH just promotes the offender to a higher level of incompetence. Well…I feel better now. See you at the lake this weekend! Busy day yesterday around the compound. The plans for Lake Mountebank providing Ft. Supply Lake overflow are proceeding apace. The brother-in-law came by with his front-end loader and we managed to get the boat ramps (four total) dug. We had to make the boat ramps very long because the lake continues to enlarge. The wife pointed out that once we return to a normal Oklahoma weather pattern and my “lake” dries up in August, the only thing remaining will be four ditches with a serious downhill grade. I pointed out that if we get a lot of snow in winter we can always open the Mountebank Ski Resort. She rolled her eyes and walked off.
She’s just MAD because I only told her about my Memorable Memorial Day Weekend plans after the brother-in-law showed up with the equipment (nothing subtle about a big-ass tractor with a front-end loader wheeling through the yard and through the fence on the north side – needed an opening in that fence anyway for the RVs to come through). Once she learned what I was up to, the wife took to sitting on the porch, pulling on a bottle of Jack Daniel’s and chain smoking hand-rolled cigarettes (a sure sign that she’s really pissed – she doesn’t like rare Tennessee sipping whiskey and has never smoked in her life). Later that morning Cousin Fred, with his truck load of coin-operated solar-powered RV electrical hook-ups, arrived. That was soon followed by Friend Lamont with his truckload of portable sanitation facilities. The question then became how closely to the lake’s shore to put everything given that this weather is expected to continue through the week and indeed into the weekend. Lake Mountebank continues to expand with every rain drop. I’m not complaining mind you…hopefully all this rain will bring this region out of its prolonged drought…just need to figure out where to park the behemoth RVs that no doubt will soon be arriving. The brother-in-law made a helpful suggestion that we might be able to control the size of the lake if he were to use the back-hoe to cut in a small channel that leads off this ridge. Great idea, but I’m worried about flooding the town of Fargo in the distance. I do have lingering concerns that Memorial Day around here will be a wash-out with rain predicted all week. If this weekend doesn’t work out, we’ll set our sights on Flag Day (Sunday, June 14th) assuming there’s still a Lake Mountebank then. And to think, I moved back to NW Oklahoma for a more relaxed, less harried lifestyle. Sheesh. As all of this was taking place, Cousin Fred received a call from his roommate, Mr. Kim, who was driving his big RV which we plan to turn into a mobile bar from which he will sell his homemade Korean plum wine hooch. It seems Mr. Kim stopped at the Cherokee Trading Post on his way here…Mr. Kim loves buffalo burgers. Unfortunately, an Oklahoma ABLE (for those of you who don’t live in this great state that’s, Alcoholic Beverage Law Enforcement) K-9 unit had pulled into the Cherokee Trading Post for lunch. The hooch-sniffing dog in the back of the unit got a whiff of the Korean plum wine hooch and flipped out. The ABLE officer let the dog out of the vehicle and Fido (not his real name) began circling and sniffing around the outside of the RV. The ABLE unit summoned an Oklahoma Highway Patrol unit. Now there’s law moving all around the outside of the RV trying to figure out why a vehicle with Arkansas plates reeks of hooch wine. Mr. Kim remained seated inside the restaurant and called Cousin Fred. Cousin Fred’s best advice was for Mr. Kim to hightail it out the back of the restaurant and try to make his way to Seiling where we would come pick him up. Admittedly, I was beginning to get a bit nervous. Copious amounts of untaxed homemade hooch (wine or otherwise) is a capital offense in this state. Besides, it wouldn’t be much of a Memorable Memorial Day Weekend without untaxed refreshing adult beverages. Mr. Kim told Cousin Fred that the State Troopers were standing with weapons drawn next to his table inside the restaurant and wanted to have a discussion with him outside. Mr. Kim hung up. Those of us on the shores of Lake Mountebank stood wringing our hands and worrying about what would become of Mr. Kim. The brother-in-law climbed back up into the cab of his tractor and took off. Said he didn’t want to be around when the OHP showed up at the compound to raid the place. The wife remained on the porch chugging Jack Daniel’s and chain smoking the hand-rolled “tobaccy”…she was now laughing loudly as events continued to unfold. After an hour, Cousin Fred’s phone rang…it was Mr. Kim again. He said that he was back on the road and headed toward Woodward. Apparently, he had built a huge hooch holding tank into the floor of the RV that is undetectable if you don’t know where to look. He offered law enforcement on the scene that the smell was left over after his nephew borrowed the RV and had a wild weekend of partying on the Lake of the Ozarks. He told them that he had been trying to get the smell out, but wasn’t having much luck. They bought it (after a thorough search of the inside). Go figure. Okay, gotta get back to work. The weekend is nearly upon us and there’s a break in the rain action. Update: Just came out of the house. The wife is still on porch laughing maniacally, muttering something about Biblical rains and singing “My Philadelphia Home”. Things are quieting down after an event-filled Sunday evening during Cousin Fred’s visit. I was frankly happy to see him depart the compound yesterday morning on his way back to West Arkansas. I’m happy to report that my fingers are healing nicely (hey, I’m typing yet another posting), so all in all I suppose it was a wash.
However…he was no further along his drive than Bouse Junction when my smartphone lit up with a call from him. I considered not answering it. I begged the wife to answer, reminding her that my fingers were injured. She was having none of it. And, although I was traumatized from the previous evening’s activities, he is family and blood trumps all, even if that familial fluid is pumping through the heart of a complete moron. So, with a great deal of apprehension I answered the phone. Cousin Fred was excited. He said an idea came to him as was careening along on his way home. He brought up an article that he read while he was here (note to self, hide the newspapers next time) in the Sunday edition (page 3A) of Woodward News. The article was a piece on the upcoming Memorial Day weekend and the anticipated crowds of people expected to take advantage of the facilities at Ft. Supply Lake. According to officials quoted in the article, campsites at the lake are 100% booked for the holiday. Park rangers expect visitation numbers between 25,000-35,000 over the three-day weekend. Wow…at little Ft. Supply? If that’s the case there, I’m certain Canton and well, every other lake in the freakin’ state will be very crowded. Hopefully, they got the gator problem under control out there. Hahaha – just kidding. With all the rain we’ve had lately and more due in later this morning, the largish puddle next to the compound here has grown exponentially. Oh sure, I know it won’t last forever, but we’ll take advantage of it while it’s here. But, I digress… Back to the reason for Cousin Fred’s call. He’s proposing offering the largish puddle as overflow to campers who are turned away from Ft. Supply Lake this weekend. I pointed out that we’re not really equipped to handle RV’s and such here at the compound. Cousin Fred is proposing to bring in solar-powered (here we go again) electrical hook-ups. He said he will turn around as soon as he gets home and head back with a truckload of solar-powered electrical hook-up stations that are coin operated. Cousin Fred suggests a separate charge for the campsite, plus whatever we get from the coin operated electrical stations is gravy. He said that he will get his roommate, Mr. Kim, to bring his deluxe RV. Cousin Fred proposes setting up the RV at the edge of the campground to serve as a bar for thirsty boaters when they come off the largish puddle, which we’re now calling Lake Mountebank. Mr. Kim will sell shots of that Korean plum hooch for which he is so famous. I pointed out that I don’t have sanitation facilities for a lot of people. There’s no way the wife will allow a steady stream of drunken campers inside the compound to use our restrooms. Cousin Fred has that solved. He pointed out that my friend, Lamont, also in Western Arkansas, owns a portable facilities business. He’ll get Lamont to bring a truckload of his equipment here from Arkansas. Cousin Fred wanted to have Lamont bring his portable facilities with the coin boxes attached, but I said no. The last thing I need is a bunch of drunks in the middle of the night cursing and banging on a portable toilet because they used their last quarters for solar-power electricity to watch TV in their RV. He did suggest offering entertainment at least one night. So I’ll try to get Wiley Piemore and His Prairie Dawgs to perform Saturday. For Sunday night, Cousin Fred suggested either an open mike night or let Mr. Kim run a karaoke contest. I hate to say it, but Cousin Fred may be onto something here. It would be a great dress rehearsal for the Thrash Metal Jam Festival I’m planning for August. The 50-foot speaker towers are in place and I can spend the weekend fully testing them by making meaningless announcements, “Attention, campers, attention!” I have not yet addressed food or fresh water, but we’ll get there. I’ve already called the brother in law and he’s bringing his front-end loader over to help me build proper boat ramps. Figure I’ll charge a separate fee to launch a boat. So, if you’ve been turned away from Ft. Supply and need a place to park the RV other than the parking lot of Wal-Mart (which may have consequences of its own this year), come on out to Lake Mountebank for a Memorable Memorial Day weekend! There is no stinking law on our lake. And it takes Woodward County Sheriff’s deputies days to find this place. What can go wrong? Note to self: Inform the wife. Hope everyone had a great weekend. Cousin Fred was visiting the compound from Western Arkansas again, and as always, brought along his latest entrepreneurial offering to try out on me…literally.
Cousin Fred since his last visit has become steeped in the possibilities of solar power on, as he puts it, the micro-level. His latest offering is a military boonie hat with a two small solar panels on top of the hat. The solar panels are arranged so as to resemble a pitched roof atop the crown of the hat. According to Cousin Fred the idea there is that it will keep the rain off of you, which as he pointed out has been a nearly daily occurrence here in Northwest Oklahoma lately. Dangling from and encircling the brim of the hat were several thin pieces of wire with tiny fish hooks attached to the ends. Now, friends, if you’re like me (and hopefully you aren’t), you’re asking yourself, “Huh? Now what do you suppose that’s all about?” Be careful what you ask for… So, like the idiot I am, I asked the question (after, as I recall one too many glasses of red wine). Sure, I could have left well enough alone and spent the rest of my life telling people about Cousin Fred’s boonie hat with the solar array and tiny fish hooks. People would have asked, “Well, what was it for?” To which I would have responded, “Who knows?” And that would have been that…an opened-ended endless joke without a punchline. But noooooo…I had to find out the rest of the story. Sigh. Okay, so Cousin Fred’s boonie hat is designed (as it turns out) to repel mosquitoes. As he’s telling me this I was swatting at one of the corpulent atavistic blood suckers that had landed on my arm. Guess it’s the downside of all the rain we’ve been getting. Every puddle becomes the Hotel de Amor for these savage insects. That’s when I had kind of a flashback. I’ve seen hats set up like that (but, without the solar array) in a couple of places around the world. You find them in Australia where the ends of the strings hanging around the edge of brim are fixed with corks to keep the biting flies away. The other place, I think, was India where they used beads instead of corks…or maybe that was Djibouti…all of those years and locations kind of run together. But, I digress… I asked him if he expected the mosquitoes to impale themselves on the tiny fish hooks. Cousin Fred chuckled. No, he told me, the idea is to put bits of raw meat on the fish hooks which are charged with an electrical current powered by the solar array. Huh? He went on to say that the raw meat attracts the mosquitoes and are zapped as they land on the “baited” – and electrified - fish hooks. I pointed out to him that it’s possible to buy boonie hats with mosquito nets already attached. When the mosquitoes become a problem, you simply drop the net over your head and neck and that pretty much takes care of it. Cousin Fred, ever the family huckster, chuckled again and asked me if I was going to deal with mosquitoes the old school way with netting and/or by spraying vile chemicals all over my body? Wouldn’t I rather step up to his high tech method? With that, he moved the hat out into the yard so as to allow it to “catch a few rays.” He indicated that he would demonstrate the hat’s utility once the solar panels built up a charge. I could barely contain my enthusiasm. Sigh. After several more glasses of wine and a meal of my special version of Korean BBQ chicken (Cousin Fred’s favorite) and an hour long, albeit informative, lecture from him on the advancements of micro solar arrays over the past six months, I realized that sunset was upon us. I think Cousin Fred realized it at the same time. He leaped from his seat at the table and ran outside urging me to follow him. He asked the wife to grab the little baggie of raw meat that he had placed in the fridge. There on the porch of the compound he began slipping bits of raw beef liver onto the hooks. Once every hook was baited, he beckoned me over. Me? I asked the wife if she wanted to try, but she assured me there was no f#@^ing way she was putting that on her head. Sigh. Very carefully, he placed the hat on top of my head. He made certain it settled into place. I could feel the solar panels against the top of my skull thinking, “Judas priest, this is like taping a bunch of cell phones all over my scalp!” I was just about to beg out of the demonstration, when Cousin Fred announced we were set. Maybe he was…I know the wife was already laughing. She mentioned that she didn’t recall a time when I looked so much like a tool as I did at that moment. Do you suppose Chuck Yeager got that kind of support from his wife? Once the hat was firmly settled, Cousin Fred announced, “We’re ready. Switching on.” With that, I heard a click as he flipped a switch somewhere at the back of the hat (sooo convenient a location if you’re doing this alone). Suddenly there was a low-frequency hum that seemed to permeate my skull. I swear I could actually feel my brain vibrating. Cousin Fred told me to start walking around so we could see it work. I began moving slowly, noting that the wife was on the porch swatting at mosquitoes on her arms. Even Cousin Fred was squatting at bugs on his face. Me? I was just walking along, mesmerized by the smelly bits of raw liver swaying to-and-fro in my vision. I found myself focusing on the hooks rather than anything in front of me, which is when things began to go wrong. I tripped over the anchor wire of my Acme Everkill mole/gopher trap (pesky bastards are worse than the jackrabbits here at the compound). I didn’t fall, but the stuttered step caused the dangling wires of the boonie to begin swinging into one another. This caused the current running through each to begin arcing as they connected. The eerie blue light of the arcing was completely disorienting. I began staggering around, spinning and weaving like a drunken sailor on vampire liberty (Navy talk). It was about then that I began to pick up the sound of sizzling meat and the smell of cooking liver. Egad! The damned contraption was cooking the bait! There was a loud bang as the solar array atop my skull apparently shorted out. Bright sparks were now raining down over me. Cousin Fred was screaming, “Drop and roll. Drop and roll.” That was my first clue that my skull was on fire. As I made the move to drop to the ground, my body lurched forward slightly and my foot became ensnared in the gopher/mole trap. I reached up to pull the boonie hat from my head and received a mild shock and burnt fingers for my trouble. The wife seeing the initial explosion of the solar array grabbed the fire extinguisher that we keep on the porch of the compound for just such a mishap and emptied its contents all over me. As I lay on the ground with curls of smoke all around, the wife began trying to pry the mole/gopher trap from my foot. I peered through the haze and asked Cousin Fred if by chance he had tested his boonie hat before trying it out on me. He smiled, shook my hand, and said, “Nope.” Sigh. Robin Gets His Own Reality Show Where He Philosophizes About Moon Rocks, Art, and Jackrabbits5/15/2015
I don’t know if anyone else noticed, but yesterday’s (5/14) front page of Woodward News seemed awfully “busy” looking. Three articles all of local interest, two with largish and interesting (okay, one was a bit odd) photos. It was truly a front page to remember. Hopefully, someone will frame that front page for posterity. I’ll be able to tell my grandkids about that front page. I know…let’s dissect the front page…shall we?
First up, at the top, Rachael Van Horn (she needs a nom de plume, I must work on that) writes an article about the Woodward Art Walk. The idea was developed by the Woodward Main Street organization and aims to raise money for purchasing handicapped accessible playground equipment to be placed in Centennial Park. Beyond the fund raising effort, the Art Walk also highlights the work of local artists who might not otherwise have a means for showing or selling their work. We at CCB applaud the efforts of Janet Fitz and Woodward Main Street for doing all that they do to keep the downtown area viable. I was a little surprised to read that the Art Walk has been going on since May 1st. Why the News is only running this story now – halfway through the month of May – is beyond me. But, the Art Walk in businesses downtown runs through the end of May. Please stop in to patronize the businesses that have graciously provided space for the art and view the work of some of our local artists. Next down the page was an article written by a relatively new correspondent at the News, Kevin Weiss (he needs a nick also…hey, I’m working on it). His piece is about an upcoming exhibit of a moon rock and assorted meteorite samples on May 20th at the Plains Indians and Pioneers Museum. I would point out that he got the name of the museum wrong, but as I’ve said before I’m beyond constantly pointing out the editorial mistakes in the Woodward News. Just wanted to make certain that everyone goes to the correct place to see the moon rocks. I know, I know…the conspiracy theories about how the moon landings were all staged hoaxes have been floating around for years. I never gave it much thought until several years ago, I met a retired electronics engineer out in Washington State who, prior to retirement, had worked for North American Rockwell, the contractor that designed the Apollo capsule and all of its systems. According to this guy, the whole thing was staged. He said that the technology to do the things they supposedly did to get astronauts to the moon and back just didn’t exist at the time. If you have the time, it’s worth looking up moon landing conspiracy theories. There’s one or two that are kind of compelling. Frankly, I’m still on the fence…to tell the truth the retired electronics engineer was knee-walking drunk at the time he shared his secret with me. So who knows? The most important thing is to visit the Plains Indians and Pioneers Museum. It’s a great resource for learning about the rich and colorful history of the area in which we live. Please, please visit the museum and give it your support. Okay…I’ve save the best for last. At the bottom of the first page that will live forever, there was an article (again, written by nom de plumeless Van Horn) about a local fellow who is trying to get on a reality show called (and I’m not making this up) “Broken Skull Challenge”. The show involves cast members running a timed obstacle course and then wrestling (I told you…I can’t make this up) other cast members. Presumably the winner goes on to other challenges and more wrestling. Our intrepid reality show candidate is a corrections officer at William S. Key, so I suspect he has had his share of wrestling experience. The photo at the top of the article shows our cast member candidate shirtless and wearing a pair of shorts during an interview with the show’s producers via Skype. What struck me about this guy, is his determination and drive to win the competition. Not just to make it onto the show, but win the whole enchilada. He wants to use the $10,000 prize money to get his wife and FOUR daughters into a larger home. That’s really cool. I wish him well. We’ll be watching. Best of luck. And I pray I don’t find myself in William S. Key at some point. Me…I’m trying to start my own reality show. The premise will be that I sit on the porch of the compound, sip red wine and philosophize. I’ll solve everybody’s problems. I guess we could spin it that I wrestle with dilemmas affecting most rural Northwest Oklahomans. For instance, should I use field loads in the 12 Gauge for jackrabbits or something a bit more sporting like a full-auto AK-47? If they don’t stay off my lush, green lawn and/or stop eating the bark off of my mimosa tree…jackrabbits must die! By the way, I actually found a recipe for grilling jackrabbits on Weber Kettle Grills…who’s in? Oh, gotta go. The wife is telling me that PETA is on the phone and want to have a word with me. On the advice of our disbarred and disgraced corporate attorney, we’re making the following statement regarding this post: At no time during the writing or posting of this post were any Woodward News staff writers, local artists, moon rocks, reality show candidates, William S. Key Corrections Officers, jackrabbits, or PETA callers actually harmed. Okay, we may have hurt a few feelings, but they’ll get over it. Buck up, Shipmates (Navy thing)! As for PETA…stop calling. If you’re an Oklahoma Game Warden, we at CCB assure you that we would never shoot or pummel a jackrabbit out of season even if they are a pest and eat everything in sight at the compound. And please feel free to continue making your daily stop in our pasture to urinate before heading back into town. You know, it’s not easy being me. Now that word of the Cosmic City Blog is starting to get around, I’m hounded by people with an agenda to push. Everybody wants to see their cause celebre aired in public. Yesterday morning I was making my usual Breakfast Tour when someone came up beside me at Crystal Beach and asked me if I was, in fact, the dude that does CCB. I rolled down my window and tried to shake his hand, but he stepped back. Said he was worried about the germs that the Oklahoma Department of Health has been spreading around the countryside in an effort to make us as docile as lambs so we won’t bad mouth the state legislature. He said he figured they have been double-dosing me.
At last! Someone even more paranoid than me! He said that he had scandalous blockbuster information that he would share with me and all of my loyal CCB readership (all none of you). I eagerly waited to hear what he had to say, but he began backing away from me saying, “I’ll be in touch. I must remain anonymous for now, but you will see me again.” So, we have that to look forward to! But, I digress… Let me say that I own more than a few guns. I enjoy shooting. I carry. I hoard (and bury) ammo figuring that Nancy Pelosi will pull up to the gates of the compound at any moment to seize my supply. Hell, I live in a heavily fortified compound…what do you think it’s fortified with? Slingshots? I’m a member of the NRA and the National Association for Gun Rights (hint: save your money). But, even I recognize that there are and probably should be limits to exercising my Second Amendment “rights” to carry, own, or purchase firearms. I moved here from Virginia where you can actually carry open into bars, but you can’t even carry concealed in banks or courthouses. I thought I had seen the limit of how far the gun lobby could stretch things…and then I moved to Oklahoma. I read in yesterday’s Woodward News a small three-paragraph article buried on page 3 that HRH also signed a bill into law that allows for Oklahoma school employees to start carrying guns at school. WHAT?! Does this make sense to anybody? Let’s examine all the worst-case scenarios, shall we? All of these are loosely based on individuals who worked for Woodward Public Schools when I was going to school. Trust me, they’re all either dead or so old they can’t find their computer anymore. So, first there’s the angry cafeteria supervisor. She’s in her late-40s. Her husband left her for the 24-year-old breakfast burrito maker at Sonic. The two of them ran off to Miles City, Montana where the burrito queen will belt out the classics as a torch singer at the Prairie Dog Ramada Inn while accompanied by Mr. Wonderful on his 66-key Casio keyboard with simulated drum sounds. This of course leaves angry cafeteria supervisor lady with nothing more than a slightly better than minimum wage job slopping food onto plastic trays for kids to eat. What if one of the kids mouths off about how the goulash smells funny? Or the elementary school kid who, on his birthday, gets the “privilege” of working the dishwasher in the kitchen, but slops food everywhere to the point that he loses his “privileges” and gets sent back to face his savage third grade teacher who hates his guts (yes, that was me). Is this someone that you would want carrying a gun at school? Next up is the creepy janitor guy who spends way too much time in his deluxe janitorial closet counting the strings on mop heads. He’s never married and hasn’t had a date since 11th grade when Minnie Torkmeyer agreed to go to the Junior Prom with him. She dumped him as soon as she was through the door and saw altogether-too-handsome farm boy from Laverne come in. Creepy janitor guy has harbored that painful memory for some time now…50-odd years it’s been building up. Sure, he hides the bullets from himself in a far corner of his deluxe janitorial closet, but he know where to find ‘em. Let’s see…there’s the high school psycho football coach/driver’s ed. instructor/typing teacher. He and the band director are constantly at one another’s throats. The band plays too loudly at games. The band doesn’t play loudly enough at games. One day, Coach snaps…stuffs the band director into the trunk of the driver’s ed car. His .44 mag beside him on the seat, he careens maniacally down the street typing his manifesto and shooting out the driver’s side window. Oh…there’s more. Back in the day, Woodward Public Schools had its share of people who probably shouldn’t have been near children. Just sayin’. Now, I DO get the intent of the law. If some wack-job comes into the school with a loaded weapon with the intent of shooting up a classroom, of course it’s probably better that someone in the damned school is armed. BUT…unless the person who’s armed knows what they’re doing, they’re likely more of a problem than the active shooter. Also, if you’re going to put a weapon in the hands of someone in the school building, why not follow the airline model? That is, only the principal (pilot) or vice principal (co-pilot) are armed. MAYBE…and this is just a maybe…the Oklahoma legislature in its own warped sense of lawmaking thought giving teachers the “privilege” to carry guns at school would divert attention from the fact that they’re finally giving a pay raise to teachers, the funding for which is coming from the teacher pension fund! Judas priest! Is ANYBODY in this state paying attention!!!!???? And they wonder why I live in a compound? So it is that another legislative session ends and we’re all left with a general sense of hmmmmmm. It occurred to me when I saw the Graduation supplement of the Woodward News yesterday morning that Woodward High School’s graduation ceremony is fast approaching. I’m a bit disappointed that yet another graduation is passing without someone asking me to be the commencement speaker.
I recall the seniors in my class voting on who we wanted to speak at our graduation. I think I wrote in Hunter S. Thompson. As I recall, we wound up with a Woodward Junior High (now called Middle School) social studies teacher or some such nonsense. Eh, maybe Dr. Thompson was busy that day. You’re probably rolling your eyes and thinking, “My goodness, can you imagine the commencement address the dude from CCB would give? What pearls of sage wisdom could he possibly impart to our grads that wouldn’t cause them to run out the door, move to Ellis County, and join the Salvation Army?” Good point. Eh, maybe I’m not the best choice for making a memorable speech to send the little punks off to adulthood. Other than courses in band, speech, art, and English, my academic career at WHS was less than stellar. I left Woodward for the Navy soon after I graduated. While that worked out in ways I couldn’t possibly have imagined or even predicted at the time, it’s not a route I would recommend to anyone else. Besides, as I’ve gotten older, I’ve developed more of a deep cynicism about humanity as a whole complemented by a perverse sense of humor. Besides, I hate commencement speeches wherein the speaker tells the graduating class what wonderful opportunities lie before them just waiting to be plucked (like Grandma Johnson’s run away rooster). Blah, blah, blah. Maybe it would do for someone to get up in front of this graduating class and tell ‘em what really to expect. So here are Robin’s pearls of friggin’ wisdom…take or leave it…eventually, you’ll say, “You know, he was right!”
Congratulations to all of the graduating seniors in Northwest Oklahoma and best of luck to you! I’ve long enjoyed roasting the Thanksgiving turkey on a Weber grill. Been doing it every year for the past 19 years or so. The first year I did the turkey on the grill, the wife took a pic of me gazing longingly at a perfectly browned bird while it was still on the grill. She titled the picture, “A Boy and His Bird”…may enter that in the museum’s photo contest next year. The turkey always comes out looking like something off the cover of a woman’s magazine. It also tastes really great. There’s a hint of smoke and very moist.
In fact, over the years I’ve learned to grill just about anything. Pork butt, pork and beef ribs, goose, duck, brisket, on and on…low heat over a long period of time is the only real secret. I have the art of Weber kettle grill cooking down, but I always seem to fall short when it comes to the carving. Maybe I’m just not using a sharp enough knife. I do know I get impatient and try to carve things up before they’ve cooled enough. When I carve my Thanksgiving bird it comes out looking more like turkey chunks than anything else. So I suppose I suffer from carve-envy. I hate it when I see someone on TV carving their turkey and the knife slices through the breast like, well…a hot knife through butter. Perfectly sliced white meat falls in a perfect cascade of thinly sliced turkey that fans out on the serving platter like Martha Stewart herself was serving it and saying, “Now, that’s a good thing.” Mine looks more like Betty Stewart, her evil not-so-twin sister, did it. But I digress… Since I suffer from chronic carve-envy, there was an article on the Huffington Post site over the weekend that caught my attention for two reasons: 1) It involved carving, and; 2) it took place in Oklahoma…well, okay, Tulsa, but that’s still sort of Oklahoma. So it seems that a woman (we’ll call her Psycho Chick) in Tulsa entered the funeral home where a woman’s body was lying in state. And, not just any woman, mind you. This was the ex-girlfriend of Psycho Chick’s current boyfriend. Are you with me so far? So imagine the scene. Your dearly departed family member is lying there in her coffin. She looks so peaceful. The morticians have made her look as though she were asleep. In walks a woman…unknown to most of the family. Though she looks vaguely familiar to Cousin Penny who is certain she’s seen her somewhere before. All just figure that she’s an old friend come to pay her respects to the dearly departed family member. Psycho Chick walks over to the edge of the coffin as though contemplating her time with her friend. The family turn away. It’s all so harmless…just another acquaintance paying her respects. Uh huh. Then, the family notice that Psycho Chick has her hands inside the coffin and is making busy. Something seems amiss here (thanks, Captain Obvious)! Uncle Carl moves over to the casket to see what’s going on. There he finds that Psycho Chick has smeared make-up all over Dearly Departed’s face and is in the process of making a vertical cut from Dearly Departed’s hairline to the end of her nose. Sheesh…what do you bet that Psycho Chick was using a switchblade that Her Royal Highness Mary of Fallin had just made legal? I knew no good would come from that! Now, let’s stop right there. The reports of this have been all over Tulsa media, but none of it (including the piece on the Huffington Post site) have all the details. So, let’s put on our Sherlock Holmes caps, puff our altogether too large pipes, and examine the facts (such that they are):
I know, I know, more questions than frigging answers. Interestingly, Psycho Chick was charged with illegal dissection of a human body. Really? That’s the best that Tulsa PD could come up with? She remains in Tulsa County Jail on a $20,000 bond…half of which is tied to a previous assault and battery charge in April for which she received a deferred sentence. Hmmmm…bet she’ll do some time now. Robin’s advice for the day: Stay the hell out of Tulsa. |
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