WWCTD?

What's with communication these days? 

Used to, people took the time to write letters. They picked out the right stationary, sharpened a few pencils, sat back and thought about what they were going to say, wrote it down carefully, folded it, put it in an envelope, sometimes maybe put a little perfume or underarm sweat on it, licked the flap and then the stamp, walked down to the box and sent it off...then the receive-ee would get it in the mail, excitedly rip it open right there or maybe put it in a pocket and walk around with it all day waiting with anticipation for just the right quiet moment to open and read it. Might read it fast the first time and then once again slowly, taking the time to analyze every word and phrase. Studied the quality of the handwriting, sometimes you could get a sense of the writer's mood from the way the letters were formed. Then put it back in the envelope and save it to read again later. 

Then we had e-mail. 

People wrote and wrote each other. It's easy to type and there's not much prep time involved so anything went. People wrote the first things that came to mind and then whatever they thought of next. Writing became more impersonal, the reader didn't have a physical connection with the writer any more, no pretty paper or a postmarked from home envelope. No perfume or whiffs of grandma's musty old house to smell. Reader and writer connected only by bits of digital data, ones and zeros in endless combinations, decoded by some unfathomable process of computerized wizardry. 

Then email died. Text messaging mugged it an alley, stole what little soul it had and stuck a knife in it. Left it lying in a drab hospital room on life support, to be used only for spam ads for Viagra and porn invites, mindless chain letters and impersonal forwards making outlandish claims and assertions that would cause a National Enquirer editor to turn green with envy, most of which can be proven false with a little effort and Snopes. Text messaging, with it's LOL's and ROTFLMAO's and BTW's and NOYDB's and purposely misspelled words to save time.

But there are some of us who have almost stood up from our soft comfortable office chairs in front of our extra large flat screen monitors and we have said "No more!" We refuse to let the art of the written word die a silent and ignoble death! And while we are generally too lazy to actually write a letter with pen and paper and too cheap to pop for a 50 cent stamp we still have the keyboard! As long as there are people in our address books we will reply to every three word e-mail with long heartfelt dissertations on anything and everything whether we are qualified to speak on the subject or not! We are the self appointed saviors of words, ensuring that humans as a species do not lose the ability to write and read and understand! Join us! Lift up your voice! Write! Don't hide your candle under a bush, let your thoughts and feelings and opinions be heard all across this great land, from the mountains, to the prairies, to the oceans white with foam! God bless America!

(There should be some inspirational music playing here but the closest I had was Walk This Way by Aerosmith. Insert your own.)

Canon EFS IS 55-250 Lens

    

     The economy sucks. The real estate industry, which has provided for my living for the past 15 or so years is pretty much dead and lately I've found myself grubbing for whatever work I can get just to get by. I've also been eating a lot of oatmeal and looking forward to deer season so I can restock the freezer. So what do you do when you're cash strapped but find yourself really needing some new glass with a little reach? Since anything in Canon's L series was a pipe dream, I decided to take a chance on the budget 55-250, and I haven't been disappointed.

     I'd been using the 28-135 lens that came with my Canon 50D but it was becoming increasingly frustrating, being not really wide enough on the wide end and not long enough on the other. It worked fine for portraits and casual people shots, but since I've already got the 18-55 lens, and a 1.8 nifty fifty, and most of my picture taking is landscapes and critters in the woods, something with more reach was necessary.  

     Luckily right at the time I decided to check one out they went on sale. Wandering around the local Wal-Mart one day I noticed the price had dropped from $299 to $199. Unfortunately they had just sold the last one. When I got back to the computer I checked around and found that Target had them in stock for $150. Even better. A couple of days later I was slapping it on the 50D and I headed out to see what it could do.

     The first thing I noticed was that the 55-250 is definitely not made like the proverbial tank. The glass is housed in a plastic shell and it felt a whole lot flimsier than the 28-135. Of course that wasn't a surprise...it is a budget lens. The second thing I noticed was the image stabilization motor makes a little noise when engaged. It's barely audible and nothing to be concerned with, but it was noticeable. On the other hand, the IS works. Frame your shot, half press the shutter, and you can see the screen settle down quickly. I pulled off some acceptably sharp shots at 3 and sometimes 4 stops slower than without it. Nice.

     The longer zoom range came in handy on some bird shots. Sure, the 70-300 would give you a tad more reach but at a slightly higher price. I can live with 250mm for now. I didn't have a problem with flare even though I was shooting without a hood, which Canon rarely feels the need to supply with their lenses, preferring instead to make you buy it separately, apparently so they can charge you an outrageous sum of money for a cheap piece of freaking plastic. I went ahead a bought an aftermarket hood off of Amazon for 6 bucks ($25 for the Canon...geez!), more for protection of the glass than anything. It works just as well.

     Upon getting the RAW files downloaded into DPP (Canon's RAW converter) I immediately noticed how good the colors and contrast looked. In fact, I found myself using a whole lot less across the board adjustment, including sharpness, than I was used to with the 28-135. The difference seemed so noticeable that I pulled up some similar shots taken with the 28-135 and compared them side by side. I was slightly surprised at the difference but figured it might just be a fluke. Over the next couple of months of shooting however, I've become fairly convinced that this particular 55-250 copy is flat out smoking the 28-135. I'm not going to go so far as to say that will be true in every case...I may just have a sub-par 28-135. Based on some reading it seems Canon has had a problem with quality control on the 28-135; some folks love them, others don't. Some who weren't satisfied say that exchanging the lens for a new one fixed the problem, so I may just have a bad copy.

     Ultimately I'm satisfied with the 55-250. It's not great, and I doubt I'd plunk down $300 for one, but if you can find one for $150 I'd recommend it to anybody.

The End of the World As We Know It

That's great, it starts with an earthquake,
birds and snakes, an aeroplane - Lenny Bruce is not afraid.

REM - It's The End Of The World As We Know It (And I Feel Fine)

      Michael Stipe and the guys from Athens penned that catchy little tune way back in 1987. Reagan was president, the Soviets were definitely not our allies, and as far as anyone knew the Cold War could turn hot at any moment. Since the early '60's the world had lived in the shadow of the threat of nuclear destruction and nobody seemed to know or care about what we now have come to realize was the bigger threat, the REAL threat...the end of the Mayan calender on December 21st, 2012, which according to some folks means the world will be destroyed by some means or another. Oddly, the Mayans, who apparently knew of this disaster, failed to specify the exact nature of this event which leaves us no choice but to speculate, which Al Gore has been doing for some years ever since he found himself with time one his hands after inventing the internet. 

     Some suggest we will be destroyed in a great fiery conflagration brought on by a giant asteroid hitting the earth. Actually, according to Mayan legend and supported by today's science, this is a plausible scenario. The Mayans and other ancients believed the world has been destroyed four time so far, by water, wind, fire, or some earth event like an earthquake. The cycle ending in 2012,  supposedly the fifth and final cycle, may be brought to a close by the massive impact of a so far undetected gigantic asteroid which would unleash a devastation unseen on this planet since the time of the dinosaurs. The recent close call (by astronomical standards) with the asteroid 2011MD this month which passed earth at the cat's whisker distance of 7500 miles underscores that possibility. While not large enough to cause worldwide damage it was undetected until a month before the close encounter. Of course that wouldn't be much consolation if it decided to impact in your back yard.

     In the book of Revelations John writes that in the end times a blazing star strikes the earth poisoning the earth and darkening the sky. Nostradamus also predicted that sometime after 1999 a comet would impact the earth which would cause massive destruction and start WW III. A ten kilometer asteroid impacting earth would would release roughly 60 million megatons of energy. This would be about the amount produced by the simultaneous detonation of 100,000 nuclear warheads give or take 10,000 or so. Anyone surviving the initial impact would be challenged first off with finding uncontaminated water as the ash cloud formed by impact ejecta would produce contaminants which would settle into ground water. The ash cloud itself would choke out sunlight for a time possibly resulting in nuclear winter; plants would not grow, herbivores would starve followed soon thereafter by people, if the lack of oxygen produced by the plants didn't get them first. Not a pretty picture for sure. Hopefully we will be able to detect any future potential collision in time to take some kind of action like sending Robert Duvall in the space shuttle on an intercept course armed with a few nukes to knock it off course. Or better yet, send Al Gore.

     It's doubtful the Mayans had any secret knowledge of the future that modern science hasn't as yet been able to determine. There was an editorial cartoon a while back showing a Mayan stonemason chipping the date 12/21/2012 on the very last open spot on rock he was working on. A second Mayan fellow is observing and comments that future people are going to freak out when they see that. So that may be all there is to the so called Mayan prophecy...they just ran out of room on the rock.

    

No to Fed Funded Stem Cell Research

     Using federal funds, i.e., tax dollars, to fund stem cell research is another bad idea in long list of governmental intrusions into the lives of American citizens. Supporters of federal funding claim that without this money stem cell research in this country will come to a screeching halt and any future advances in the field will come from outside the United States. The New England Journal of Medicine goes so far as to postulate that government money is "a prerequisite to the availability of a well-prepared research workforce" without which "these experiments would probably be conducted outside the United States". In fact, in a recent article the Journal repeats that last sentence over and over like a mantra, or more accurately, a broken record.

     The NEJM is guilty of obfuscating the issue. Stem cell research in the United States is perfectly legal and ongoing in private labs, with private funding. Proponents of federal funding are only annoyed that they may be denied the opportunity to run an industrial vacuum cleaner through the public treasury. The claim that U.S. scientists can't compete with other countries such as Israel, the U.K., Australia, the Czech Republic, Singapore, and Korea (no mention as to whether that's North or South Korea...I'll assume they mean South) is inflammatory, not to mention asinine. One can only imagine the gasps of shock...we can't compete with Singapore? The Czech Republic? The NEJM, leftist publication that they are, is merely adopting the default fall back position of the leftist/progressives in this country, that everybody else in the world does things better than the U.S.. Well, like my granny used to ask, if everybody was jumping off a bridge, would you do it too? Evidently yes, if I worked for the NEJM.

     The NEJM does not say anywhere in the article if government funds are driving stem cell research in any of those supposedly superior countries. For the sake of argument let's say they are. What does that change? Are our scientists going to jump ship for a villa on the outskirts of Prague? Will there be a mass exodus to the islands of Singapore? Are there really that many American scientists with a taste for kimchi that would make a move to South (North?) Korea attractive? Probably not. But again, suppose they do? If stem cell research is the hope of humanity what does it matter where the research is conducted? Wouldn't the most important thing be that the research continues?

     And there you have it. No matter what language the argument is couched in, it's always about the money.  In this case the most money for the least amount of effort. How hard is it to rob someone at the point of a gun anyway?

     It's probably safe to assume that opponents of stem cell research, as they are labeled, are in actuality opposing the use of taxpayer dollars to fund such research. Their argument is that if advances in the field are to be made, let the private sector fund the research. If the potential pay off appears promising continued funding will never be a problem. Here also it's about the money. Difference being, it's not about the easy, upfront money but the possible profits resulting from investment and hard work.

     Throughout the history of our country it's how we've done things. If an idea has merit some entrepreneurial individual is going to invest in it. It's how our capitalistic society does things. Who cares how they do it in Prague?


    

The Internet is a Distraction

     In the years since the invention of the internet by Al Gore I've noticed that my book reading has dropped off dramatically. Early on when newspapers were starting to worry that the web may cut into their business profits I laughed. Surely no one in their right mind would choose reading off a television screen over a newspaper. That turned out to be flat wrong. I can't remember the last time I paid money for a newspaper. Why should I, when there's a world of news literally at my fingertips, and mostly for free? There's conservative news, liberal news, middle of the road news, sports, entertainment, lifestyle, fashion, music...click a link and you're instantly bombarded by an ever increasing number of links, each one taking you farther and farther from your original point of interest until eventually you can't remember what you signed on for. And if you're not careful you will come to your senses at 4 in the morning, bleary eyed and stiff but with your mind racing so fast from information overload that there really is no point in going to bed. So you make a pot of coffee and go back to checking Lady Gaga's album sale numbers or examining the mating rituals of the red billed oxpecker. (That's a real bird...you can google it.)


     So yes,  the internet is a colossal time waster unless you have the clarity of purpose and self control of a Buddhist monk. And show me a guy who has that kind of self control and I'll show you, well, a Buddhist monk. Example...a few days ago I went online with the sole purpose of finishing some work that would eventually result in a paycheck which would allow me to purchase things I like, such as food and electricity. The screen hadn't even come on good when I veered off course to check my email. There were a few work related messages which I ignored, instead opening the latest from a friend of mine. This one was all about an upcoming band gig he was playing with a guy who played a cajon. Having no idea what a cajon was I googled it and discovered it is a wood box used as a percussive instrument which originated in the Andes Mountains of Peru, I believe. Curiosity aroused, I YouTube'd it and spent the next half hour listening to various cajon drummers showing off their skills. In my friend's email he had mentioned that he would be playing an acoustic bass. That reminded me of once hearing a young beatnik poet reciting some sort of nonsense that he and the audience thought was profound but I couldn't make heads or tails of. The accompaniment was an upright bass and a drummer. I YouTube'd it and found a weeks worth of videos, one of which led to a clip of Mike Myers in the movie So I Married An Axe Murderer where he played beat poet Charlie McKenzie who believes he's married to, yes...an axe murderer. That led to the scene where Myers played his drunken kilt wearing Scottish father singing If You Want My Body, with a guy playing bagpipes. Another link related to bagpipes led me to a clip of Sean Connery. That in turn took me to the 2006 AFI Awards where Connery was awarded a lifetime achievement award by Harrison Ford. From there, having relatively little interest in Harrison Ford I chose a video of Mike Myers giving a speech about Connery at the AFI show. He was wearing a kilt. And he referred in a roundabout way to his axe murderer movie where he played Charlie McKenzie, beat poet. I don't think I got any work done that day.

     So my point is, while the web is a wonderful source of information, and yes, you can find anything on the internet, if you can't focus you'll never accomplish anything productive. There's just too much information, and it's all available instantly. Where once we'd actually get up to go to the library or the bookstore where we would be forced into at least a little human interaction, we now sit in front of a lit electronic screen like drugged zombies, frantically googling trivial subjects until our eyes are numb. That can't be a good thing.

     I've got a stack of books on my shelf I've been meaning to get around to reading. I think I'll start just as soon as I've finished downloading those pictures of the red billed oxpecker.

GA's New Immigration Law

     Georgia's new immigration law, HB 87, which goes into effect on 1 July, 2011, is already being challenged in court with critics claiming that only the Fed can determine and set immigration policy. Specifically cited as unconstitutional by opponents is the provision allowing law enforcement to detain individuals while determining immigration status. Essentially the suit is a copy of the one brought against Arizona after the adoption of their similar law. Both the Arizona and Georgia laws include an E-Verify provision which calls for a federal system to check the status of workers; this is not being challenged.

     Other opposition to the law is coming from oddly, some churches, who fear they might be charged with a crime for performing what they see as "regular ministries". Supporters of the law counter that the law exempts activities which might otherwise be illegal as long as the services provided by the church are for "infants, children, or victims of crime".

     The agriculture lobby also opposes the law and claims an 11,080 person labor shortage (pretty specific number there, Big Ag...) since the passage of the bill. However, Georgia currently has the seventh largest population of illegals while being the ninth largest state in the country in total population. A more likely explanation for the perceived shortage may be the recent economic recession and the overall lack of jobs available, especially in construction which has borne the brunt of the downturn.

     What the opponents of the law do not seem to be able to grasp is the fact that legal aliens are already required to possess and carry proper identification in the form of a green card, and must upon demand present this ID to law officers. Additionally, since Terry vs. Ohio, the court found that state law enforcement is allowed to question identity with only reasonable suspicion.

The Death of Junior

     The best dog I ever had was named Skeeter. Skeeter was a little feist dog, which is a nice way of calling him a mutt. I guess his predominate ancestry was Rat Terrier and he may have had some Jack Russell thrown in there somewhere. He was jam up on squirrels...hated them with a passion. He was hands down the best tree dog I ever had, actually out-treeing a $1500 dog on one occasion. I think I paid fifty bucks for him. Best investment I ever made, in a dog anyway.
 
     Over the years Skeet fathered a few litters of pups, mostly with another feist we had named Pookie. (Her name is a story for another time but suffice it to say it started out as a joke and snowballed.) Unfortunately, none of Skeeter and Pookie's offspring ever turned out to be worth a damn. Junior was no exception.

     Junior was born in a litter of three. The others were mostly black with a little white, but Junior had the predominate white coloration of his father, hence his name. He was the only one of the litter we kept, and only for that reason. It sure wasn't because he was a good squirrel dog. Or brave, or loyal, or even intelligent for that matter. No, Junior grew up to be just about the laziest, sorriest excuse for a consumer of expensive dog food that there ever was. He wouldn't bark half the time when someone came up in the yard. He was scared of his own shadow. He showed no interest whatsoever in hunting and treeing squirrels. In fact he showed no interest in them even when they would hop by in the yard, practically right in front of his nose as he lay on the porch, too lazy to even lift an ear to flick the gnats away from eyes.

     The whole Junior debacle became a bone (no pun intended) of contention between my son and I. When Skeeter died the year before Matt had sort of taken to Junior, I guess because of the resemblance between the two. Although I had my suspicions about Junior's lack of character, I didn't have the heart to voice my concerns, at first anyway. Over the next few months though, Matt would get married and move to Savannah, leaving me an empty nester, truly alone for the first time in two decades...except for Junior.

     One thing Junior really liked to do was go running with me. We'd usually go late at night when it was cool. However, nighttime by nature is dark and that makes it difficult to see anything sneaking up on you like wild hogs, bigfeet, space aliens, or attacking dogs. So it became Junior's job to be my security on those late night runs through the country. Even this task he performed with varying degrees of success.

     The first incident occurred late one summer night about a half mile into a 4 mile run. Junior was darting back and forth ahead of me, stopping occasionally to investigate interesting smells and then lifting a leg to add his own. As the woods on the right opened up into a cut hay field Junior suddenly began barking wildly and charged into the field. About 30 yards off the road I could see a low black shape standing its ground as Junior approached. Suddenly I heard a grunt and the black shape ran at Junior who, well before the last second, decided to retreat. Unfortunately he retreated directly back at me bringing a seriously pissed off boar hog after him. Luckily I was able to stay in the lead while Junior fought a rear delaying action. The rest of the run was finished uneventfully and the boar was long gone by the time we got back.

     A week or so later we set off down the driveway and Junior almost immediately peeled off into the woods barking, maybe after a possum or a cat but more likely after a figment of his imagination. As I was finishing my warm up walk on the dirt road I heard the sound of a dog running hard toward me. Thinking it was Junior I almost didn't turn around but then suddenly realized that unless Junior had all of a sudden gained a substantial amount of weight that this dog was definitely not him. I whirled around and snapped my SureFire flashlight on just in time to blind the snot out of a humongous slobbering hound from hell who apparently thought I was on the supper menu. The light stunned him and he slammed on the brakes coming to a stop not 3 feet from me. The standoff ended when Junior, unaware of the situation, came happily bounding out of the pines. Upon seeing the hound from hell the look on Junior's face could be described as classic "oh s#*t!". He immediately dove back into the woods with the hound from hell in hot pursuit. I continued my run and Junior met me on the back porch when I returned.

     The third incident was very similar to the last except this time it was a very large Rottweiler that made it through a closed farm gate with the obvious intention of eating me alive. This time I knew Junior was well ahead of me so I was ready with my light and a small can of pepper spray. Again, the dog stopped 3 feet from me, head low and drooling. I readied my pepper spray.
     I should interject here. If you ever decide to bet your life on a cheap can of pepper spray you should really try it out before you actually need it.
     Pointing the nozzle of the can at the dog I pressed the lever or tab or whatever you call it. Nothing obvious happened. I neither saw nor felt any liquid leaving the can. The dog didn't either as he just stood there snarling. Thinking I might not have it lined up right I tried again and succeeded in spraying my opposite hand. Then here came Junior, again clueless as to the seriousness of the situation. The Rottweiler decided he was the more attractive target and they both left me there trying to figure out how to work my can of pepper spray. I was still standing there a few moments later thinking I had figured it out when the Rottweiler returned. Highly pissed at this point I just ran at him and tried to spray him again. An anemic stream of watery crap came out and fell short of the dog by a good 5 feet. I guess he was tired of the game at this point as he just turned away and trotted off leaving me cussing in the dark.
      The evening was not over however. Nearing the end of my run, with sweat pouring off my brow, I unthinkingly wiped my eyes with the back of my hand. Another interjection...pepper spray does not go away until you actually wash it off your hand. If it gets in your eyes though, no amount of washing will stop the burning until the burning is ready to stop on its by God own.
   
      The night before last I was on the tractor and noticed Junior up at the end of the driveway just running around checking his circuit of interesting scents. After I while I decided to head up to the store for some hog feed. On my way back instead of turning off at the first road to the house I decided to go on down to the next turn off. I hadn't gone too far when I noticed a white and black shape lying on the side of the highway. I turned around came back by. It was Junior, dead, hit by a car. Still warm. I put him in the back of the truck and he made his last ride back to the house. I buried him over by the fence line, not too far from his daddy.
    
     I can't honestly say I felt too bad about it. I did call him an idiot a couple of times while I was planting him. Having called him that on a regular basis pretty much every day I figured that was a fitting enough epitaph. Later on that night I headed out on a run. It was uneventful. Except a few times I'd forget and look up, listening for the sound of Junior running along with me.
  
     It was quiet.
    




     



  

Writing 101

     Holy cow, this is hard. Almost as hard as the very, very, remedial math class I've been stuck in thanks to the all seeing, all knowing Compass test which, after most likely gasping in horror at my score, laughed sadistically as it unceremoniously booted me into the arithmetic hinterlands along with all the other certifiable math morons. 

     But writing...writing has never been particularly hard. Sure, I do routinely have problems formulating what I want to say, that is, when I actually realize I HAVE something to say. Sometimes words, or the right words, elude me and I go off on a fruitless search for them, somewhat akin to a blind man looking for his glasses in dark room on a moonless night without a flashlight. Occasionally I find them, or some of them, but usually only after stubbing my toe on the furniture numerous times.

     Most of my writing has been in the form of emails, or work related, or just personal musings meant only for me. I admit, I have started and never finished two or three or seventeen great American novels, the latest after a good amount of unpleasant prodding from a published author friend of mine. Sadly that one too came to nothing. Not because it wasn't a good idea (I guess, maybe, ok, i don't know) but simply because other things got in the way. That and I'm a world class procrastinator. But that writing is not generally all that hard. This college writing however is a goose of a different color and I've been sitting here trying to figure it out. I think I'm getting a handle on why.

     Unlike my former attempts at writing, I know without a shadow of a doubt that whatever I put down is going to be read by other human beings. And not nameless, faceless human beings either, which is my typical audience when writing work related stuff, but people I will actually have to see and interact with in person. That puts a little different spin on it. What you might write in an email to a trusted friend, or late at night to yourself after one too many NoDoz tablets chased by a couple of Monster energy drinks may not be considered acceptable by idle acquaintances or fellow classmates. And that is the crux of it. When you write for public consumption you are opening yourself up to scrutiny. Not just your writing, but by extension your very soul. Essentially you are flinging open the doors and inviting all the neighbors in to poke and prod through the deepest darkest nooks and crannies of your brain. That can be unsettling. Do I really want to shine a spotlight on the way my mind works? What will they think? Will I be exposing myself as some kind of monstrous freak of nature? Will mothers quickly herd their children indoors while casting nervous glances over their shoulders at me?

      On the other hand, should I care what others are thinking? Isn't it better to allow your mind to go where it will? It seems to make sense that greater accomplishments can be made when the mind is free of social constrain and is allowed to explore where it will. Also, people by nature are pretty self-absorbed. Probably 99% of what you say and do is NOT being overly analyzed by others, if it's even registering as a tiny blip on their radar at all. I'd say it's a good bet that while one individual is stressing about how others are going to perceive him or her, lots of other him or hers are stressing about the exact same thing. So what does it matter?

     Of course, I could be completely and totally wrong and they really ARE out to get me.