I've just been informed that I am the subject of an FBI dossier. That's a French word that means a file full of papers containing made-up stories about things somebody else imagines I might have done sometime when I wasn't some place I've never been, that someone I've never met swore they saw me doing before I was even born. Now, I'm no worry-wort. I don't panic easily. Generally, I oppose alarmism. But, using an expression widely expressed by so many highly-erudite, culturally-elite, well-tempered, conventionally-wise talking heads these days—I have become "deeply concerned." If I should reach the level of being "gravely concerned," you may find yourself reading the musings of a fill-in blogger in my place. For now, I'm still here. And responding to my internal defense mechanism, I whipped out my poetic license and voiced my concerns in the form of a poem. Note: For those of you who are hard of reading, and anyone else who cares to listen, please try to find the Download File link below, so you can click it and experience a dramatic oral interpretation of my latest literary effort. ![]()
0 Comments
None of the gulls I know can read, so this blog is meaningless to them. A lot of people who can read don't understand what's been written, here or anywhere. Those who can hear don't necessarily bother to listen. ![]()
Some who read this blog get what it's about. Some don't. What it's about is the way I see the world. It's about holding a mirror to the world. There are imperfections in the glass. Still, there's beauty in the reflection. There's ugliness, too. And irony. And absurdity. And consistencies, sometimes. And unpredictability. It's a balancing act.
This week's question comes from G.W. of Hood River, Oregon: "Geo, would you please tell us what you think of smart meters?" Not much, G.W., not much. In fact, I don't trust anything that has smart in its name. Smart car, smart home, smart phone, smart watch, smart tv, smart money, smart breakfast cereal, Maxwell Smart... Smarties... To me, if you have to say you're smart, you're probably not. Now, about smart meters in particular: Some people think they're the greatest. Namely, public utility companies and government regulators. Some folks are passionately opposed to them. They fear unhealthy microwave radiation. Or they oppose the intrusive mining of personal power usage data. Or they object to coercive confiscatory fees levied against those who choose not to participate in Smart Meter programs. If you ask me—and G.W. did just that—Smart Meters are just another example of busybody technology. But I'll let you decide for yourself. So, here's a list of hot links covering the pros and cons and cons and cons and more cons of Smart Meters:
That should keep you busy for a while. As for me—I don't need a Smart Meter. I get all the energy I need for free—from the wind, from ocean waves, in dumpsters and landfills, out of the mouths of pelicans or the nets of fishermen, and from the charity of people who toss food from their cars or from their beach chairs. It's all renewable, and the Public Utilities Commission hasn't figured out how to control it. Yet. My marketing staff is really cranking out the bumper stickers. I love their energy. But I'm not sure how to take this one. At least they used the Seagull font. If you logged onto this page yesterday and were totally confused, who could blame you? For those who missed it, here's how it looked: Even I have no idea what that says, or what it was supposed to say before my web host scrambled my post. Yes, they appear to have gone past shadow banning and other forms of social media censorship. Now they just toss everything into a digital blender, add a dash of special algorithms, and it comes out scrambled beyond recognition. But why would they do this to my blog, out of all of the billions of blogs in cyberspace? What could I possibly have done to offend anyone? No, that wasn't a rhetorical question! To be continued... One of these things is not like the others... Of course you chose the correct answer—B for Bird Control. Since I live in a special part of the world where seagulls are admired, cherished, honored, and photographed in soft focus, I sometimes forget the harsh treatment and officially sanctioned cruelty and persecution that is everyday reality for seagulls in many disparate corners of the world. But my readers occasionally snap me out of my reverie by sending me links to hate-filled individuals and institutions that remind me there is still much work to be done to rid the planet of rampant anti-seagullism.
I thought Wikipedia knew about everything. But apparently Wikipedia doesn't even know that I exist. Well, that is going to change, I promise you. Someday, I will have my very own Wikipedia page, even if I have to write the article myself. And by the way, Wikipedia, I'm not even remotely related to Nat Geo. Just thought I'd clear the air about that theory. But I do continue to hear reverberations from Fun Fact Friday #26, in which I attempted to stifle the notion that seagull flatulence could be behind alleged global warming. Some of the repercussions seem to originate on the opposite side of the country. You see, many of my readers are highly attuned to geopolitical and geoeconomic developments (puns intended), and they got a whiff of a vaguely related story emanating from Washington, DC. That's a place where stuff happens, and where it's full to overflowing with this particular kind of stuff. What my readers noticed—as did a cluster of foul-minded, potty-mouthed Twitterers—was the name of a new piece of legislation proposed by the U.S. Trade Representative, the Commerce Department, and some White House economic advisors. It bears the title Fair And Reciprocal Tariff Act. As with much of our current affairs, what could have been a civil discussion on serious issues of national security and prosperity has degenerated into a fetid free-for-all—the object in this case being the trade bill's acronym, which you may have already figured out. The legislation hasn't even been digested by the U.S. House of Representatives, much less been passed out of Congress. In fact, the F--- Act has only escaped into the open air because it was leaked to Axios, a news and information website which was pleased to take a leak. At least the media seems to have moved on from the seagull flatulence story. Not much talk about global warming lately, either. From D.B. in Redway, California comes this question: "Geo, I read somewhere online that seagull flatulence is a major cause of global warming. Please tell me, can this be true?" Well, D.B., you must not believe everything you read on the internet (including this blog). Besides, there is disagreement among humans as to whether or not seagulls do emit gas. Nobody seems to know for sure, because we gulls are so discreet about it (discrete, too). And I am unwilling to clear the air by saying one way or the other. Nonetheless, some humans are incapable of appreciating the spirit of generosity behind our sharing of sacrificial excrement. As evidence, I link you to this hate-filled poem. Talk about someone who needs a cold shower! So there. That was easy. Remember to say "please" when you click the Comments link above and submit your question that could either be answered or avoided by Geo in next week's Fun Fact Friday.
Some say poetry is a lost art. Well, I've found it again. I was digging around in the dumpster behind Tony's Crab Shack, down by the marina, and there it was—wrapped in a paper napkin with a splash of tartar sauce. Seriously, it was yesterday's Fun Fact Friday episode that inspired me to peck out a thought-provoking poem merging paleontology with philosophy. I hope you like it. What am I saying? I'm a seagull. I couldn't care less if you like it or not. Unless you bribe me with a bit of your bagel...
As far as I know, I am the only seagull currently publishing poetry online. There are lots of humans who have posted putrid poetry about seagulls from their narrow humanistic points of view. It makes me sick to my stomach, and as you know, virtually nothing I consume can do that to me. This stuff that passes for poetry about seagulls, and the sand, and the sea—it's awful, appalling, androcentric, aggravating, and annoying. And I will not despoil my own blog by linking to any of it. You can do your own search and see what I mean. Then again, if you'll toss me a few of your French fries, I could be persuaded to change my mind. Meanwhile, stick around and enjoy some real seagull poetry. Read and listen: ![]()
![]()
Hey! Where's the meme?
Today is National Two Different Colored Shoes Day®. In case you think this event is something I made up, just so I'd have something to blog about today, may I point out that NTDCSD has a formally registered name and an official Facebook page, with a grand total of 20 followers so far. That's bound to double after my post hits the web today.
![]()
This week, I'm taking a question from C.A. of Grand Forks, North Dakota, who asks: "Geo, I remember an 80s techno-pop band called A Flock of Seagulls*. Please tell me if it is appropriate to call a gathering of seagulls a flock."
* The musical link is "I Ran (So Far Away)" from 1982. If you'd like to be the next person to have Geo answer your Fun Fact Friday question, click Comments in the top right corner of this page. Keep in mind that you must say "please" if you really expect Geo to answer your question. Call me a "prepper" if you want. I've been called much worse. I am proud to say I am uniquely prepared for any doomsday scenario. I can survive any form of natural disaster you can imagine—earthquake, fire, flood, famine, pestilence, volcanic eruptions, the rogue planet Nibiru nearly colliding with Earth... The latter is believed by some evangelical Christians to be the event that triggers the Rapture, the second coming of Christ that ushers in the end times. And they think the planets and stars are aligned just right for that to happen today. We'll see what happens. They could be right. What—me worry? I'm confident that even when the world ends, there will still be leftovers I can pick through for sustenance. They didn't give me the nickname "garbage gut" for nothing. I've also heard that Armageddon could be nigh because Federal Communication Commission rules will take effect today that eventually will nullify the so-called "Net Neutrality" regulations that haven't really quite gone into effect themselves. (A convoluted, government-inspired sentence, that last one.) There are some who believe the death of Net Neutrality will signal doom for the internet. Yet, somehow the internet survived, prospered, and fostered innovation for a over quarter century with minimal government interference and without Net Neutrality.
![]()
As mentioned yesterday, English is my second language. Around my peeps, I speak Squawklish. But with you, my online friends, I communicate in English. Of course, this sometimes means circuits get crossed in my seagull brain, resulting in confusion, misinterpretation, mispronunciation, and miscommunication. To begin with, there are just plain too many words in the English language. And too many words that have the same, but not exactly precisely the same meaning as other words. And there are words that look and sound like they should have a certain meaning, except they don't mean anything close to what you think they mean.
Again we reach into the proverbial mailbag for a Fun Fact Friday question. (However, I have been unable to find any proverb on the subject of mailbags.) This week's question was submitted by D.B. from Jupiter, Florida, and it's appropriate for Friday the 13th: "Geo, please tell me, do you have any superstitions?" The answer is easy. No, I do not. Now, can I go home for the weekend? I do have to admit, if Fun Fact Friday #13 had coincidentally landed on today's date, I might have hedged a little in my answer. However, I am neither a friggatriskaidekaphobe nor a paraskevidekatriaphobe. I do not let the calendar dictate how I live. I am more concerned about where and when I'll find my next meal. By the way, did you leave a few French fries for me? Some Cheez-Its, maybe?
To submit your potential Fun Fact Friday question for Geo, just click or tap the Comments link in the top right corner of this post.
Be sure to say "please" if you really expect Geo to answer your question. This is the kind of thing that turns a decent, law-abiding gull into an activist-- As reported here on the first and the fifth of this month, I have found myself the victim of seagull hate crimes. And of all places, it happened right here on the beach at Bandon. Being on the receiving end of persecution has motivated me to dive back into the turbulent waters of worldwide seagull hate and offer you some evidence of the pervasive prejudice that is now on the rise on America's own shores.
The following act of creative image manipulation is not intended to treat, prevent, or cure any disease. It's the slideshow to end all slideshows! (Don't you wish...) An unparalleled immersive sensory experience beyond anything you could possibly imagine! A SPECTACULAR KEYBOARDS AND MICE SLIDESHOW ! Please let me know if you've managed to survive this visual barrage!
WARNING: I'VE BEEN TRIGGERED! Or have recent events made that fashionable expression "triggered" suddenly become passé? Here's what's gotten under my feathers. I'm still bugged about the commenter who asked: "Geo, have you ever considered how many trees had to be chopped down in their prime, merely to be turned into Popsicle® stick riddles?" I have to assume the individual who submitted this query did not spend any time in southwestern Oregon this past August and September. Those unusual brown skies and blood red sunsets we saw through burning eyes here on the beach at Bandon were the result of nearly 200,000 acres of trees and other living things that went up in smoke about 80 miles away, putting tons of carbon pollution into our summer skies and our lungs. It wasn't just millions of potential Popsicle® sticks that burned to a crisp. Habitats and ecosystems and everything that they contained were destroyed, with many areas rendered sterile for years to come. And the current rainy season is washing the by-products of the inferno downstream. In the wake of the Chetco Bar Fire's devastation, a number of questions have followed. Was this a failure of long-term federal forest policy? Was the initial response inadequate? Could the impact of this blaze have been minimized?
Now, I'm as much of a preservationist and environmentalist as any other bird. Goodness knows we gulls do our share of recycling. But let's all try being guided by the facts and a sense of proportion, huh?
I warned you this could get intense. Now I'm feeling warmed up for a much-anticipated SEAGULL HATE UPDATE. Watch this space! Riddle me this:
What kind of person is wound up a little too tight? Answer: The kind of lonely troll who submitted this comment after yesterday's post: "Geo, have you ever considered how many trees had to be chopped down in their prime, merely to be turned into Popsicle® stick riddles?" My answer: "Yes, I have considered that. And in my opinion it was just enough." (Trying to set a new World Wide Web record for most colons used in a single blog post.) I wonder if this is the same malcontent who reported me to the Thought Police after I remarked that a plastic-bag-swallowing seagull won't be making the cut when natural selection picks the starting lineup. The next thing you know, the Southern Poverty Law Center (which has nothing to do with poverty or law—or the South, for that matter) will be adding me to its list of haters. Give me a break! I am a seagull. I am the guy who reports on seagull hate. I don't hate my own kind. I just reject the stupid ones. (Trying to set a new World Wide Web record for most boldface text in a single blog post.) Yet...there's a saying that all publicity is good publicity. Being added to the media's favorite hate list could bring some traffic to my blog. But I do hope I don't live to eat those words. That could be as unpleasant as eating rubber, glass, or Styrofoam. There has to be a better way to recycle that stuff. (musical link by the Tijuana Brass, 1962)
Washington was keenly aware of preserving and protecting the natural rights that he and his fellow revolutionaries had fought for. “If freedom of speech is taken away, then dumb and silent we may be led, like sheep to the slaughter,” he observed.
Washington was a believer in universal truths and timeless principles. And he was sensitive to humanity's imperfections, saying, "When one side only of a story is heard and often repeated, the human mind becomes impressed with it insensibly." That was true in the 18th century, and it's even more true today. The organization that maintains Washington's Mount Vernon, Virginia estate provides a wealth of information about our first president and his heritage on its website. Biography.com offers a good overview of Washington's life, as does its partner, the History Channel, where you'll find this note that counters some of the current mythology: "At the time of his death in 1799, George Washington owned some 300 slaves. However, before his passing, he had become opposed to slavery, and in his will he ordered that his slaves [were] to be freed after his wife's death." America's founders were as imperfect as the rest of us, yet probably more honorable than a lot of us. This time, it's a follow-up to a follow-up. In Friday's post, I responded to one reader's need to know exactly what I enjoy eating. Soon thereafter, I received a message from another reader who wondered, "What about the stuff seagulls eat that they shouldn't be eating?" I figured there was a not-so-hidden agenda behind this loaded question. After all, it could have been submitted by a Russian agent, trying to instigate inter-species conflict. Then I reflected on how important each of you is to me. I do have such inquisitive, astute, and perceptive readers. Or is it just that some of you spend too much time watching YouTube videos? Then, perhaps you've seen the one where the first seagull on the scene manages to open a plastic bag it has found, and is happily digging bits of leftovers out of it, when along comes another gull who tries to share in the bounty. But gull number one snatches the bag and drags it away. And in an effort to keep its treasure from reaching beak number two, the first gull keeps chomping and swallowing until it has stomached the entire plastic bag, along with whatever meager residue of food remains. While this video afflicts most humans with pangs of guilt and waves of nausea, I have a different reaction. To me, this is evolution at work. If these numbskull gulls can't figure out that there's no food value in plastic, aluminum, rubber, glass, styrofoam, and so on, then natural selection will leave them behind.
|
Meet the AuthorHi. I'm Geo the Seagull.
I'm the distinguished Park Host on South Jetty Beach at Bandon, Oregon, USA. I'm a firm believer in First Principles: Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Your Lunch. Archives
August 2018
Categories
All
|