Phatwater on the Natchez gauge, today, is 37.81′.  It was a warm weekend, with little to report, and we cancelled our Phatwater tour due to the prediction, anticipation, and ultimately the confirmation of excessively warm weather.  We opted for an early Sunday morning paddle along the east bank, which, shady though it was, was still quite toasty.  We saw two alligators, small, and one Prothonotary Warbler.  Prothonotary, by the entry in the dictionary I have at the moment, is defined as, “a variation of Protonotary”.  Protonotary is then defined as: “a chief clerk in some courts of law, originally in the Byzantine Court.  Speaking of Byzantine Courts, I stumbled upon this recently:

Yes, I know there are grammatical errors.  I was trying to be as true-to-form as possible,

given . . .

Registration through Active.com is being worked up today.  We’ll see how it goes this year, then make changes if necessary. Sorry for all the delays.  But remember, in order to have any sort of future, you have to have some sort of past, whether good, bad, or stringy.

All For Now-KB

Last week, which was the week after the week before, I wrote of my consternation regarding the meaning of the numbers on the different river gauging stations, and my even greater confusion following the explanation of them, given by the overworked and under-appreciated folks of the U.S. Army Corps Of Engineers.  The same folks who, among other acts of benevolence, provided us regional swamp drainage and the resulting certainty that the loss of imperiled habitat for endangered resident wildlife would be assured, such as that required of the fine feathered harbinger of Man’s Inhumanity To The Planet, the once ubiquitous Ivory Billed Woodpecker; AKA, “GodAmighty Bird”.

The GodAmighty Bird, was also also known as the “My God Bird” and “Lord God Bird”.   I take exception to these appellations, not because I’m the, ah, Devil’s Advocate, but because any creature  of ascribed status to that of God should not be in any danger of extinction, and yet . . .

One reason I stay put in the Deep South is because I can’t handle success, and were I ever to leave here again, I don’t think I could cope with not being on the bottom.  Another reason I choose to live here, though, goes to the very nature of what success brings, if by success what we mean is being able to take a yachting weekend, as CEO Tony Hayward chose to do, while other endangered species’ habitat was being transformed, for all time, into an ecological desert.

Hangin’ Tony

Yacht’s The Problem?

Hey, If it’s good enough for Saddam Hussein

I don’t know about y’all, but I’m

with corporate windbags, as well as politicians.  I’m for the little guy.  Here’s a shot I took, years ago, at the Rockefeller Refuge, in coastal Louisiana.  I titled this one, “There goes the neighborhood”.  It was rather amusing, at the time, as this poor Southern Leopard Frog (Rana sphenocephala) was kicked to the curb by invading hordes of Fiddler Crabs (Uca spinicarpa or longisignalis, not sure which).

Now, thanks to British Petroleum, and our inept Federal Government, there will be no more Frogs to Fiddle For Eons.

But, back to our “Gauge” information.  I see I wasn’t the only one to whom the C. Of E. made no sense.  In response, I received two fantastic emails, which I have allowed below, by our good friends, Phatwater Veterans, and able taxpayers:  John Coleman, and Jerry Litton.

Offered forthwith:

Hey KB,

I am a lawyer whose specialty is writing arcane, obfuscatory documents. I’ll be damned if I get it either.

Your worst enemy or best friend in time of need,

John Coleman

AND

I believe the 17.28 which you would add to the gage reading at Natchez will give the approximate            ABOVE          sealevel reading of the gage datum at Natchez gage. In todays reading 39.25 + 17.28 = 56.53 feet level of flowsheet above sealevel at Natchez gage providing a 56.53 feet point of relief from Natchez to Head of Passes Gage 0 (a sea level varriable due ot tidal approach and withdraw.) I believe the word       ABOVE          WAS OMMITTED AND THEREFORE THE INTERPOLATION OF DETAIL WAS SOMEWHAT ESTRANGED. This data holds true with exception to how many floats and circumstances of spped of craft, are launched in the Phatwater Challenge at which time velocity, turbidy and compression ratios are challenged to be computated with any degree of accuracy causing wave, swell and other mutlplicity circumstances that rival existing hydrological acadamy, computional and systematic retreival of fact equillibriums. Making a mess of a perfectly good flat river causing all kinds of havoc and non-complacency.

WHAT A MESS!!!!!

Jerry L. Litton

Jerry L. Litton

Litton’s Plumbing and Heating, Inc.

Thanks to you both.  May your days be sunny, and bright.

All For Now-KB

It’s windy, today, so I decided I would be too.  Stop now if you lack inspiration.

The Phatwater on the Natchez gauge, right this-here minute, is at 37.44′, and on freefall, though there are ‘rises a comin’.

Speaking of rises, the other day I set about the completion of a physically demanding task, of the kind which at this time of year often results in repeated trips to the ice chest for  highly refined products in sexy, though nuanced containers.

So, there I was, having a cool drink, when out of nowhere I was approached by the veteran groundskeeper-in-residence who goes by the name ‘Buster’.

“Hidy,” he said.

“Hello, Buster,” I said, “How’s the Universe treating you?”

This was all the inspiration Buster needed, as he proceeded to launch into soliloquey.  He began with this admonition:  ”Be sure you look in your pants before you put’em on.”

“Why is that, Buster?”

” ‘Cause, th’other day, I reached for my pants and didn’t look in’em, and there was a spider in there. And it bit me.  On the leg,” he said, passing his hand over the top of his thigh. “And I didn’t think nothing about it, I just pulled down my pants, and I could see where he’d bit me, but I didn’t see him. But,” he continued, “I seen a risen start up. Right there on my leg.  Right where he’d done bit me.  It was already a’reddin’.”

“A’risen’?” I aked. “A’reddin’?”

“Right there.  On my leg,” he said, pointing.

“A’reddin’ up, real good, and a‘risen.  Well,” he continued, “it went on like that, most of the day.  I didn’t think much about it.  But that night, I noticed it had swole up real good.  So, I called my daughter, told her to get a needle, and I heated it up with a match, then I squeezed around the risen, and told her to stick it with that needle, to let out the poison.  It  wadn’t much that come out, just some blood and stuff, not much.  So, I went on to bed.

“Well, about a hour later, my whole leg had done swole up, so I knew it was time to go to see the doctor.  So, I got up.  I couldn’t hardly get my pants back on, but finally I did, and we went to the hospital, ’cause my leg had done gone numb.

“And, do you know, they had to cut off my pants. And they looked it all over, said, ‘your leg’s a mess, you got to have surgery.’

“Next thing I know, they sent me off to Brookhaven, middle of the night, and a doctor over there come in, a little Chinese lookin’ fella, and said, ‘I got to do surgery.’

“Well, they put that thing on my face to put me to sleep and next thing I know, I woke up two days later.  Guess I was in some kinda coma.  All I know was, once I was awake, I was hungry.  I hadn’t had nothing to eat for close to three days by then. I was hungrier than I ever been.  My leg was still attached, but it wadn’t swole up no more, but I didn’t have no pants.  But if I did, you can bet I would’a checked’em before I put’em back on.”

Simon Sez, Check Your Pants.

On to other things.  I’ve gotten a few responses to my characterization of this year’s Phatwater Bowie, and the name I’ve applied to it, “Zambezi”.  One such response went this way:

“Why’d you stir up all this ‘crocodile business?’ My uncle was a surveyor for the U.S. Geological Survey, back in the fifties, and he was eaten by a crocodile in one of those African countries that starts with a ‘Z’.”

Another response involved a report of late, coming from two fishermen who recently sighted a “crocodile” in the Mississippi River, below the Natchez bridge[s].

They were in error.  The only crocodile in proximity to the Natchez bridges is an American Crocodile (Crocodylus acutus),  in the Alexandria, Louisiana, zoo, an hour an a half to our west for those law abiding citizens who choose to travel this path at  legal speeds, in a modern automobile of the kind the “cash for clunkers” federally assisted, Department of  Transportation CARS purchasing program of 2009 was designed to inspire.

There have been no reports of American Crocodiles hitchhiking across country (carrying human-skin suitcases), and since the only other American Crocodiles in North America are in the Everglades, where they enjoy the tropical breezes coming off Haiti, and other Caribbean pleasure spots, it is my contention, as I said earlier, that our two fishermen mentioned above are in error.

I suppose an American Crocodile might swim up the west coast of Florida, and around the gulf to Port Eads, and up the Mississippi River to the bridges below Natchez, although, doing so would invite a kind of sunscreen, provided by British Petroleum, that the American Crocodile might find discouraging.

It is true that an American Crocodile was found in South Carolina, in 2008, but I’ve received reports this specimen had a gambling addiction, so there you go.  I suppose a Nile Crocodile (Crocodylus niloticus) could also swim across the Atlantic, in his/her desire to gamble in South Carolina, where it could be mis-identified in the process, as an American Crocodile.  Or, taking it a step further, I suppose a Nile Crocodile, which would be from Africa, since the Nile is situated in Africa in the way the Mississippi is situated in North America, could, under the circumstances, be considered an African-American Crocodile.

Here we have a pair of African-American Nile Crocodiles, named Bill and Hillary, although I don’t know which is which.

I say African-American because, although I took the picture in Africa, the file is now situated on my hard drive, in America.   The river you see in the background is not the Nile River; it is the Zambezi River, circa 2001, for which our Phatwater Bowie #6 is named.  Why?  Because, as with Bill and Hillary, I have the power to do so.

The Zambezi River runs, at this point, between the countries of Zimbabwe and Zambia, two of those countries in Africa that, “Start with a ‘Z’.”

All For Now-KB

37.31′ is what’s on the Phatwater

Natchez gauge, today.  Here are this year’s Phatwater Categories.  Some settling of contents may occur during shipping.

Phatwater Categories, 2010

There are 12 overall categories for this year’s Phatwater IX.  Within each of these categories, there are additional divisions to accommodate gender and/or tandem designations.  If you cannot decide the category in which you should be no ranked, please call or email us for clarification-Keith Benoist (601) 431-1731 or Adam Elliott (601) 807-5382.  Info@kayakmississippi.com.

Age based, or combined age categories for the Phatwater are not part of our criteria.  The objective of the Phatwater Committee in boat categorization is to invite each individual to enter a boat class that best reflects the overall design and performance characteristics of the boat, coupled with the skill or combined skills of the individual or tandem/unlimited paddling team.  Tandem and Quad paddlers, whether kayak, canoe, Surfski, or unlimited, will not be divided into gender/mixed gender teams.  Hatch covered boats which otherwise fit the criteria of racing configurations are NOT to be considered in the Sea Kayak Class. The Mirage 22/22S, and WSBS EFT, as examples, are classified as K-1/Surfski Racing.

Please take into account that the objective here is to pare down the number of categories in order to facilitate efficiency and timeliness in recording and posting results, and in the presentation of awards, following Phatwater IX. A Special Category* (see below) will be available for those who feel they have not been properly categorized.

#1- K-1/Surfski Racing, Men’s/Women’s

Encompasses ALL K-1 and Single Surfskis (All Texas Water Safari Single, EFT, Mirage 22,  Thunderbolts,  Ruahine Opus/Firebolt, Kayakpro Marlin-Vampire, Van Dusen Mohican, all other K-1s, or boats unnamed, of similar dimensions)

#2- K-2s/Tandem Skis , Mens,Women’s or Mixed

#3- Sea Kayaks, Men’s/Women’s/Tandem (All non-racing categories, whether composite or plastic construction, solo or tandem).

#4- Kayaks 17’ or under, to 12’, Men’s/Women’s/Tandem (All non-racing categories, whether composite or plastic construction, solo or tandem)

#5- Kayaks 12’ or under, Men’s/Women’s/Tandem (All kayaks/Sit-On-Top Kayaks/Large Cockpit touring boats not considered canoes, whether composite or plastic)

#6- Canoes, Touring, Men’s/Women’s/Tandem, (All non-racing Canoes, regardless of construction, whether paddled Solo, Tandem, with or without two bladed paddles, or any combination thereof)

#7- C-1 Racing, Men’s/Women’s (All single blade, Solo paddled C-1s)

#8- C-2 Racing,  Gender Neutral Tandem (All single blade, whether Men/Women/Mixed)

#9- OC-1, Men’s/Women’s

#10- OC-2, (tandem mixed, M or W)

#11- Unlimited ( Texas Water Safari, K-4, C-4, Surfski Quad or other uncategorized, mixed gender or otherwise)

#12- *Diaper-Disposable (Available to any paddler, of any boat, at any time.  This is a very fluid, malleable category, and can be entered, or exited, as the case dictates.  If you feel you may fit this category, but aren’t sure, either before or after the race, the Phatwater Committee will be happy to fit you into this category.  A surcharge for this additional service may be applied).

One final mention: Stand Up Paddleboards will be classified this year under Kayak-12′ and under.

Saturday we’ve been requested to shuttle for a Phull Phat, which we have plans of attending.  This is not a guided tour.  If you wish to shuttle with us, the shuttle fee is $20 per person, and we will be leaving Natchez UTH at 0530, Saturday morning.  Notify us NOW if you plan to attend.  Space is limited to 12.

All For Now-KB

Phatwater on the Natchez gauge today is 37.68′.  I don’t really have the time to give a detailed review of our halph-Phat from Saturday, but will mention that we paddled the 18.27 mile distance in 1:47:01.  It was rather warm, though overcast, which helped.

I spent most of the day, yesterday, photographing this year’s Phatwater Bowie, #6.  Earlier I sent out an email to close friends, though many of whom are not Phatheads, soliciting their scant earnings for application towards a Bowie Raffle.  As I’ve said, we’ve printed only 120 tickets for this year’s Phatwater Bowie, with a change in price structure to $50 per ticket.  Much greater chances of winning, much less leg work for the beleaguered.

I always wanted to use the verb “Quelled”, but haven’t had the opportunity until today.  Another milestone in my life of many milestones, though far more chips of pea gravel.

Here’s what’s cookin’

Greetings to you all.  This isn’t a “Press Release” for our upcoming Phatwater Bowie, it’s just an advance notification to you all, should you wish to purchase a chance on this year’s knife. I’ve sent this only to friends, or others whom I’ve met through other friends and contacts.  Bear with me.

For many, keeping up with the Phatwater is a difficult thing since it is flowing at upwards of a half-million cubic feet a second. For some, the Phatwater is unknown, so I’ll take this opportunity to explain that the “Phatwater” is our Nom de Guerre for the Mississippi River, where, each October, we host an annual kayak and canoe race known as the Phatwater Kayak Challenge.  The Phatwater, held each year since 2002, is a benefit for our local Humane Society, which is in no way affiliated with the Humane Society of the United States.

In 2005, I commissioned Mississippi’s only ABS recognized Master Smith, Terry Vandeventer, to build a “Bowie Knife” for the Phatwater which we then raffled away at ten bucks a throw.  It seemed appropriate to call the knife the “Phatwater Bowie”, since, on the approach to the Phatwater Phinish line, our race participants paddle over the very site where the legend of the “Bowie Knife” began, in Natchez, Mississippi. You can read about the historic event here:

http://www.historynet.com/the-bowie-knife-unsheathing-an-american-legend-book-review.htm

In the past five years the Phatwater Bowie has netted $27,000.00 in proceeds for our homeless dogs and cats.  Mr. Mike Worley, of Natchez, a Bowie Knife aficionado and notable collector, has sponsored the construction of the Phatwater Bowie for the past half-decade.  Thank you again, Mike.

When we began the Phatwater Bowie Knife project, it was our intention to print only 500 tickets per year, although this year we’ve had to pay for the production of the knife ourselves, so we decided to lower the number of tickets to 120, and change our price structure to reflect the exclusivity of this stunning piece of cutlery.  This year’s tickets will be $50 apiece-about what it takes to fill a vehicle for a round trip to The State Championship Tractor Pull.

Here’s a shot of this year’s Phatwater Bowie, #6.

I call this one the “Zambezi”, in honor of one of the other lesser publicized, though far more dangerous rivers of the world.  That’s not a Crocodile Skull, by the way, because I didn’t have one handy.  It’s an Alligator Skull, from an 11+footer.  He’d become a bit “cheeky” with the fishermen at Natchez State Park, and was rendered neutral by the Mississippi Department of Wildlife, Fisheries and Parks. I’m still going with the Crocodile Motif, however, because, in other photos of this year’s Phatwater Bowie, you will see not only Terry’s Brilliant metal work, but as well his skill in working with leather.  The sheath for this year’s knife, in the style of the work of Paul Long, is inlaid with crocodile skin, grown commercially, perhaps in Zimbabwe, perhaps along the shores of the Zambezi.

If you’d like to order one, or more Phatwater Bowie raffle tickets, just send us a check made out to NACHS (Natchez-Adams County Humane Society).  It’s tax deductible, but I don’t think the trip to the tractor pull is.

Phatwater Kayak Challenge

200 Dunkerron Road

Natchez, Mississippi 39120

We’ll contact you immediately if you win, and will ship the knife, express, insured for it’s value: $3000.00 U.S.

All For Now-KB

The Phatwater, today, on the Natchez gauge, registers at 39.25′.  The gauge, for those who have a “need to know” is located somewhere on one of the bridges which span the Phatwater from Natchez to Vidalia, La.  The gauge is at mile 363.3, as measured upstream from mile zero.  Mile zero is located at “Head Of Passes”. Head of Passes is the nominal “mouth” of the Mississippi River, down yonder, below Venice, Louisiana, some 10.8 miles.  Head Of Passes forms the “Birdsfoot Delta”, comprised of Southwest Pass, South Pass, and Loutre (East) Pass, as seen in this exceptionally-well-funded NASA archive image:

I don’t know when this image was captured, but something tells me it was well before the British Petroluem-White House arm wrestling began in earnest.

But, some of you may wonder, as I still do, “What does 39.25′ on the Natchez gauge actually mean?”

Seek and ye shall find.  I sought, and found this, as explained by Tim Rodgers, P.E., with the Corps Of Engineers:

Mr. Benoist,

Each gage has a gage zero which when added to the gage reading gives you an

elevation which is roughly related to mean sea level.  Most of these gages

were converted to this system in the early 1900s.  For example, the

Mississippi River at Natchez has a gage zero of 17.28 feet which you would

add to the gage reading to get an approximate sea level reading.  Over time

and with technological advances in surveying, the system has been updated.

It is now referred to the National Geodetic Vertical Datum which is

established and maintained by the National Geodetic Survey -

http://www.ngs.noaa.gov/.  The particular datum for a gage was set at the

lowest recorded gage reading of record at the time.

Tim A. Rodgers, P.E.

Water Control Management

Vicksburg District

CEMVK-ED-HC

4155 East Clay Street

Vicksburg, MS 39183

Phone: (601) 631-5669 Fax: (601) 631-7231

Email: Tim.A.Rodgers@usace.army.mil

This information was provided by Tim last October, just before the Phatwater, but I don’t recall posting it at that time.  It was confusing to me then, and is confusing to me now.   If I did post it, none of you engineers in our mix, and I know there are many, bothered to comment. Why? Because you’re sissies!

In any event, I don’t remember if I posted the info or not.  Perhaps by posting it now, one of you engineers out there, and I’m thinking of someone from Milwaukee, will un-sissify yourself and offer a more cogent explanation.  The door’s always open, good citizens.  Protest me.

Still planning for a Saturday Halph-Phat for anyone interested in shuttling with us.  We’ll be leaving the UTH area at 0600.  Shuttle fee is $20 per paddler, ducks and nutria exempt.

All For Now-KB

The Phatwater on the Natchez gauge, today, is at 39.38′ with a slight rise for tomorrow.  Saturday’s halph-Phat should be a quick one.

Here’s a couple of shots of a Swallowtail Kite we recently encountered, dining in the sky over Brookhaven at the juncture of US 84 and I-55.

I’ve never seen a Swallowtail Kite this far north, though this is within their reported range.

All For Now-KB

Sly And The Family Stone will not be joining us on Saturday, for a halph-Phat, but if any of the rest of you would care to shuttle up with us Sat AM, around 0600, let us know now.  Shuttle fee is $20 per person. We can accommodate 12 boats, max.

We’ll be leaving from Under The Hill at 0600.  This is not a tour, it is a training paddle, and we’ll be leaving Waterproof with no intention of anything other than paddling at a training speed.  All are welcome, but none will be guided.  This is an “on your own” paddle for anyone wishing to participate.  Wish we could be more accommodating, but we have other commitments later in the day and mustn’t tarry.

We will be taking lunch at the Magnolia Grill, around 1130.  All are welcome to join us.  Fried pickles are on the horizon.

All For Now-KB

At 39.55′, on the Natchez gauge yesterday, the Phatwater was just inches from being 13 feet higher than it was this same time last year. 13 feet.  Now that’s a lot of socks.

Of coincidental note, M and I paddled to Rifle Point yesterday evening and I clocked our time going upriver, by way of  Casio Illuminator G-Shock, at a designated 39.55 minutes, even.  What does this mean?  Well, we’ll leave that up to the soothsayers, from whose camp I’ve  long since been dismissed.

I have to wonder, however, given the numbers reported above, how we might have fared, had the Phatwater not been roiling in silt.  Right now, the Phatwater looks to be about  like that ugly dung colored curtain everyone who ever set foot on an elementary school stage to sing Dixie or the Battle Hymn of the Republic will recall.  Right now, we’ve got parts of Iowa, Minnesota, Tennessee and Illinois, Ohio, Pennsylvania, Montana and the Dakotas floating past us. Wisconsin, pronounced Wis-CAN-sin by Wisconsignees, is also contributing.  The water is still Large. We’ve got a million cubic feet a second flowing past us, and a million grains of silt per cubic foot.  We’re siphoning the entire continent.  There were even reports of  Canadian Maple Leafs drifting by, on July 1st, Le Jour de la Confédération, also known as ‘Canada Day’, although I don’t know why they don’t just call it Canaday.

On a technical note, all the stuff in the Phatwater that makes it so milky isn’t sand, but most of it is.  For this reason, each of you who paddle the Phatwater this year should consider the amount of friction this creates.  Sand, against your paddles, and against the hull of your boats, though floating through the water, is at the same time working against the surfaces of all things with which it comes in contact. And friction produces heat.  This is all part of that principal of physics known as “Charles’s Law”-heat resulting in expansion.  So, while you would think that the friction from the suspended sand in the river would slow you down, it actually has the potential to speed things up since the volume of the river is ever increasing with the heat being generated not only by freestyle Shovelnose Sturgeon and the ubiquitous Quillback Carpsucker, but by the cumulative draw and lunge from paddlestroking Athletes Sans Frontiers-

The down side?  Well, you’re probably going to have to purchase a new paddle, since, by now, you’ve worn away most of the gel-coat, or resin, or whatever else it is that paddle manufacturers bond to the blades to give them that highly buffed sheen.

But, before you do that, consider spending your cash on a Phatwater Bowie raffle ticket.  That’s right.  We’re set to go with the sixth annual Phatwater Bowie, by Master Smith Terry Vandeventer.  This year’s Bowie is another classic, and we hope to have some nice shots of it by this weekend.  Until then, here’s a sneak preview.

As with years past, the sale of Phatwater Bowie tickets is an absolute JOY, since all the proceeds go to the Natchez/Adams County Humane Society.  However, this JOY falls squarely on the shoulders of but a few die hard hawkers, and this year, we’ve not a sponsor for the construction of the knife, so, for the first time, we’re hoping to reduce the burden by making this a more exclusive piece.  This year we will be selling a total of only 120 Phatwater Bowie raffle tickets, at $50 per ticket.  Fifty bucks.  A tank of gas, these days.  For a One-In-A-Hundred-Twenty chance to win this year’s prize, valued at $3500.  Give us a shout.  We’ll send them your way.  We’ll even let you pick your own ticket number.  Act now.  And, remember, the legend of the Bowie Knife began on a SANDBAR, just upriver from the Phatwater Phinish.  It’s the story of a continent.  Perhaps even a Wis-CAN-tinent.

All For Now-KB

The Phatwater on the Natchez gauge, 83 days from this year’s race, is at 39.78′ and drifting down, though still silty.

Lately, I’ve been thinking about human anatomy and sock manufacturing.  I figure there’s twice as many feet in the world as uvulas. Unlike feet, uvulas don’t have to tread through the cold, wet mud, or get  rubbed into blisters.  You don’t need socks for your uvula.  The same is true for navels.  One navel, per person, but two feet.  Your feet get you where you want to be, so they need socks, for protection, and people have to pay money for socks, while the navel just gets a free ride.

Speaking of  navels, here’s a Naval story we came across recently.  It’s your typical superficial news resporting, with few of the actual “facts”.  I like to dig a little deeper, though, so I included some “facts” about the story in a sidebar I picked up from one of the underground wireless chat museums.  Some of you may have already encountered it on “MississippiGreetings”.  And some of you may not have.

Now, here’s what we found at wingledingle.gov

Dear Gertrude,

My neighbor, a retired Navy Chaplain, rank of Captain, by the name of Lance Chapman (Chaplain Captain Chapman) is real big on the ‘Eye For An Eye’ line of thinking.  Well, wouldn’t you know it, the UPS man/woman (he-she is at the midway point of trans-gender rendition) who was delivering my new Nikkor 200-400 AF-S f/4G IF-ED Zoom Lens

made the uncommonly unintentional error of brushing his-her tire against the curb of Chaplain Captain Chapman’s driveway (we live at the end of a Cul-De-Sac) when he-she pulled up to deliver my lens. Chaplain Captain Chapman was in his front yard at the time, watering his begonias.  Well, the UPS tire made a screech, and left a black smudge on the edge of the curb in front of Chaplain Captain Chapman’s house.  I think  the curb belongs to the city, technically speaking, since it’s part of the right-of-way, but Chaplain Captain Chapman seems to think it is part of his property, and when he saw that black rubber streak, he just lost it.  He started screaming “General Quarters, General Quarters, Man Your Stations, Full Alert”, and flew into a rage.  Next thing I know, he pulls out a Bo’sun’s whistle, and starts squalling on it.  Every dog in the neighborhood began to howl, and Mrs. Daphne Dillinger’s tabby cat, Renfro, ran up the sycamore tree in the middle of the little island that sits in the center of the cul-de-sac.  It was about this time that Chaplain Captain Chapman began spraying the UPS driver with the high pressure nozzel.  But that was nothing compared to what happened when the UPS driver’s shirt got soaked. You could see his-her silicone breasts, all pumped out there like twin haystacks.  It was late in the day by now.  And even though the UPS driver had this huge rack, wearing shorts, shaved leges, sporting a pony-tail out the back of his-her UPS ball cap, and even though the UPS driver had been undergoing a lot of estrogen injections and was wearing plenty of makeup, as late in the day as it was, he-she was sporting a pretty good five O’clock shadow (kinda like Richard Nixon), and in bad need of a nudge from a Norelco.

Well, this sent Chaplain Captain Chapman into orbit.  ”What in God’s Name ARE YOU?” Chaplain Captain Chapman began screaming, over and over.  He grabbed that UPS driver by the shirt and snatched it open.  ”Go, and sin no more!” he shouted, then threw that UPS driver onto his-her hands and knees. Next thing you know, the Captain-Chaplain jumped on the UPS driver’s back, like he-she was some sort of beast of burden, and began whipping him-her on the buttocks with the garden hose, shouting, “Repent, repent!”

Well, that was all  Daphne Dillinger was going to take.  She called 911, and by the time four or five other people in the neighborhood had got their call through to the dispatcher they’d mobilized the SWAT Team and the Bomb Squad, and called Channel 9 news.

The ambulance got there ahead of everybody.  They slapped the UPS driver on a stretcher and headed to the emergency room, with the keys to the van still in his-her pocket, so when the firetruck got there to fetch Refro out of the tree, they had to get a tow truck to move the UPS van first and they hauled it, packages and all, out to the county impoundment.  Once they got the fire department’s ladder truck into the cul-de-sac,  Renfro’d  got about as high as a cat could get in that sycamore.  I say it’s a sycamore, but a local arborculture attorney, Lars Cockspur, says it’s a cottonwood.  Whatever it is, when they put that ladder up against it, Renfro bailed, and knocked the fireman’s helmet into the gathering crowd below.  Cockspur was handing out business cards to all those present, hoping for a case of cat-scratch fever or concussion from a falling hardhat.  I don’t know when I’ll get my lens.  It could be months.  This is the sort of thing my MamMaw used to refer to as, “The Divine Perversity Of Inanimate Objects”.

Yours,

Jerome