Aidos Mutha 2011

Just a quick rant. The AD 2011 mostly sucked and I for one am glad that the SOB is over. It started out slowly and showed promise. It is ending almost as slow as it started and is still showing promise. Trouble is, you can't take promise to the bank. Messrs Wells, Fargo and Chase want the long green not some freakin' promise.
Having said that, it looks like the old Midas touch has come back. You know, everything that I touch turns to mufflers, also a deposit came in on a nice order this week and I saw Tom Waits on Austin City Limits so I guess things are starting to finally look up.
We'll see. Anyway, keep your chin up sailors and lead with your left. It's gonna get better soon. Trust me.

NIMBY

I'm mad as hell and I'm not going to take it anymore.
I went to a meeting this evening put on by the Los Cerritos Wetlands Land Trust.

The meeting's intent was to stir up civic opposition to a proposed development project planned to be built across the street from me. I know that I am a Libertarian and despise government interference, but this project is over the top. Some asshole developer wants to tear down the Hotel complex across the street on a ten acre parcel and build a 12 story 100 room hotel with a 4,368 Sq. Ft. restaurant, plus 21,092 Sq. Ft. of non-hotel restaurant space, plus a six story 325 condominium unit, and 191,475 Sq. Ft. of retail space. Thus turning my little paradise into overbuilt hell.
Traffic around AB Marina during the week is manageable, but when they setup the Farmer's Market and Chochky Land on Sunday, I don't dare try to drive anywhere because of the traffic. This abortion will make everyday Sunday and I don't feel like climbing into a palm tree with an AK-47 and thinning out the herd to manageable levels. So, I am going to abandon, or at least modify, my Libertarian beliefs and become a liberal, anti-growth, bomb throwing anarchist. Film at eleven.
You may want to read
http://www.egretsnotregrets.com/2011/10/light-at-end-of-tunnel-appears-to-be.html

A quick rant.

Another example of watch what you say on a slow news day.

The Hank Williams debacle is a prime example.

Look at what he said. Williams, unprompted, said of Obama's outing on the links with House Speaker John Boehner: "It'd be like Hitler playing golf with (Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin) Netanyahu."

Good God, it's a metaphor. Was Hank also comparing Boehner to Netanyahu?

Once again, the sky is falling.

Chef Hector

On Face book today, Fazoli's asks,

Why does eating spaghetti have to be so tricky? How is a kid supposed to learn how to use a fork and spoon at the same time, while twirling extra long noodles? It can be complicated and we want to see it in action – upload your child’s Getti Your Spaghetti video at ....

Actually the kid should not be using a spoon. He should be using only a fork. How do I know?
I learned from no less an authority than Chef Hector.
When I was a lad in Cleveland, back in the late 1940s, my mom and dad and I would go to Chef Hector's Restaurant in downtown Cleveland. I remember it well. At Euclid and E 9th., you walked south half a block and then turn down this alley. Near the end of the alley, were steps covered with a round-topped canvas awning leading down to the restaurant. The front flap of the awning was lettered CHEF HECTOR's. It was like a setting in a gangster movie. Hell, we lived in a gangster movie.
I don't think that I had even started school yet when we were there one night and I was having my usual spaghetti with butter. That little concoction has gone by the wayside by now. But I digress. I was slopping my sketti all over the place when Chef Hector walked by.
He said "You don' know how to eat the spaghetti young man? I show you how." He put the spoon down and said, "You only usea the fork, no spoon." Then he said, "If you slop a bit around, who cares? That's why you tuck the napkin into the front of your shirt".
And then he left.
My dad chuckled a bit and then asked me if I know who had just showed me how to eat spaghetti properly. I said Chef Hector. He then told me that Hector's last name is Boaiardi.

Todays Rant

I took the train home from LAX on Saturday. It's a hell of a lot cheaper than taking the Super Shuttle which is what I did at four in the morning on my way out of town. I didn't feel like taking public transportation through Compton at 4 AM, if it's even running at 4 AM. So I springed for the 31 bucks as, sort of, life insurance.
Taking the train back during daylight hours is fun, to me, and a mini adventure as well. I was sitting in the front of the train and being the nosy bastard that I am, I was reading the nameplate riveted to the operator's door. The train was made in Japan in 1989 by Nippon Sharyo. I remember what a fuss there was when the public realized that these trains would be made in Osaka and not Oakland. Yes, they should have not only been made in the USA, but in California.
Now if my calculator is working, 1989 would have been 22 years ago and I'm guessing that these trains have a service life of about 25 years. This means that there should be a replacement order surging down the pipeline. I hope like hell that the new trains are made in Silmar and not Shanghai.

We are supposedly trying as a nation to get our economy moving again so we had a Cash For Clunkers program. Well guess what. Shouldn't that program have been structured for American built cars? Not for cars built in Japan or Korea or even Germany? I know that a lot of so called, foreign cars are assembled here in the US and that would have been OK, if not great. But no, we couldn't even implement that little detail. Nice going you moron bureaucrats. That was a real shot in the arm for the US economy.

Lastly, there is probably much that we can do about the flood of Illegal Immigrants. We can't send them all back. It's impractical, there's just too damn many of them. But we can do a few things, and one of them is if an Illegal is stopped by the police and in fact, is truly is here illegally and is driving a foreign car. The car should be impounded and crushed. Sound a bit draconian? Not really. The least an Illegal Alien, not Undocumented worker, can do after entering our country is buy American and help keep some money, and jobs, here and not in Tokyo, Soul or Stuttgart.
I'm sorry if you don't agree with me. I hope that you do, and if you do, please pass thiss on to others either by cutting and pasting this message or the above web address.
Thanks.

Missile Tech Niel F Collins

I learned today that Missile Tech 2cl. Neil Collins has passed away. Neil was not only a shipmate and a comrade in arms, he was a friend. He was also a Waddell Plankowner and appreciated being a member of an elite group of sailors called Missile Technicians. I went aboard Waddell in February of 64 as part of the pre-com crew while she was was still in Todd Shipyard in Seattle being built. Thanks to the powers that be, instead of being the Leading Missile Technician, I ended up in the Missile Guidance Radar Room as part of some ill-advised cross-training experiment. This lasted about nine months and felt more like nine years. About six months after the ship was commissioned, and a few missile shots under our belts, I finally got my shop back shortly afterward, we got jerked out of our training cycle and quickly were deployed over to Westpac, IE Viet Nam. Neil was a calming influence in our little crazy world. He was capable of keeping his head screwed on tight when all was going crazy. This picture was taken in some sailor bar in Sasibo Japan in 1965.

From left to right is a Missile Tech named Shaw, I can't remember his first name right now. The guy on the right of him is Dave Bradberry who was a great guy to have working with you. Next is me the Fearless Leader and then Neil. This was our first WestPac although Waddell was our second ship. Neil was previously on another DDG, I forget which one. Dave and I were both on carriers. Dave was on Kitty Hawk CVA-63, and I was on Constellation CVA-64. We were all glad that we came together on our DDG.

After nine months on the gun line in So. Viet Nam and up running SAR of of Hiphong, we ended up unwinding in Olongopo, Philippines. By then we were hardened combatants, but somehow Neil stayed cool as a cucumber. He's the calm looking guy on the left. My old running-mate from Southern Indiana, IE NAD CRane, Bart Hart is the guy above my head and I am the hard-ass on the right.

The last time I saw Neil was a few years back at his home outside of Orlando. Although he looked well enough, he told me he did feel like he was well enough to travel to a reunion. Too bad, I was still hoping that we all could get together for a Missile Division reunion here in Long Beach which was our home port during those magic days.

Wadda ya mean a five engined 747.

In the early seventies, I had taken my sister to LAX to fly back to Cleveland. In those days, one could go along to the gate with a departing passenger, and so I did. My sister was flying on a United 474 to Chicago and then changing to a 727 to Cleveland. When it was time to board, my sister and I said our goodbyes, hugged and kissed and off she boarded. I've always loved trains, planes, cars and ships and wanted to watch the big SOB push back. When I looked out the window, I did a double take. There were three engines on the visible right wing. I wondered to myself, since when did Boeing start building six engined 747s?

When the big airplane was turned around to taxi, I did a second double take. The starboard wing only had two engines mounted on it. Now I was completely dumbfounded, so I asked the agent at the gate what was going on. He explained to me that when United needed to have major work done on an engine, the engine was sent to their Chicago maintenance facility and the only practical way to transport these huge engines was to simply attach it to the wing of a 747 and let it rack up a few Frequent-Flier miles.

I have flown a lot over the last forty years. On 747s and L1011s all over the USA and to Japan and Europe. On VC-10s to Austrailia, DC-10s to Korea, on 727s, 737s, 757s and 767s. I've been on hundreds of flights. Hell I even flew a bunch myself as a licensed pilot, but I never saw an odd number of engines on an airplane again. I started wondering if maybe I didn't dream it. It seemed so bizarre, but thanks to Google I found a few of these images to put my feeble mind at ease.

Twenty six miles across the sea.

Well, it's been way to long since we've been under way. We backed the old girl into the slip around Thanksgiving Day and dressed her with Christmas lights. Christmas came and went as did New Years and my birthday and Easter. I now have to get my bottom cleaner to scrape the crap off so we can move at some sort of speed.

I hope to reverse this pathetic state of affairs real soon. June should be really busy. At Two Harbors, AKA The Isthmus, in June alone there is The Summer Wine Festival on 4 June. Opening Day June 10-12 and Sadie's favorite the Yacht Dog Show on 25 June. Later on, there is the Jimmy Walker Buffalo Chip Toss on 3 September and the Microbrew Fest 17 September.

But the mother of all of these events is the infamous Buccaneer's Day on 1 October.

Buccaneers Day, in case you have been hot-racking with Osama in Pakistan for the last twenty years, is the must-go-to shindig at the island. The formula is simple. Everyone dresses up like pirates and drink enormous quantities of beer and rum. The repartee consists mainly of one word, arrgh, my personal favorite. By nightfall the amateurs are already down for the count and the old salts are just hitting their strides.

I can't wait.

As much as I love Catalina, especially Two Harbors, let's not count out Avalon. Avalon in the summer is overly touristy. Crowded and overpriced, but in the "off season" when the crowds are gone, it's utter magic. You can also have a few Irish Coffees with George and Malinda on Tenacious. How nice is that?

Things are looking up for the last half of the year.

Bravo Zulu

When I heard the news that Osama got whacked last night I was, and still am, elated. I have been asking, for years now, why the full faith and credit of the United States of America couldn't locate, hunt down and kill the son of a bitch. Well it took almost ten years now, but we did exactly that.

We finally located, hunted down and killed the son of a bitch.

I said to myself last night that the only way it could get any better is if a Navy Seal team had accomplished this glorious act. HooRah

Bravo Zulu. Well done sailors.

When the spooks finally targeted OBL, the Seals quickly finished the job.

Once again, Bravo Zulu. Go NAVY.

Postscript 5/5/2011, Cinco de Mayo.

Osama's demise is now yesterday's news, which is as it should be.

Ma'a salama you Son of a Bitch.

On the road, again.

Trying to do the right thing and keep everybody happy is probably more of a goal than a possibility. The best we all can do is try to arrange a series of compromises. Compromise, that's when nobody gets everything that they want and therefore everybody is somewhat pissed about something but no-one can really bitch too loudly because they know that this is the best that can be done considering the hand that we were dealt.

With that in mind, I departed So. Cal this, Saturday, morning and flew to Cleveland to spend Easter with my little sister. My sister is eight years younger than me and is confined to a wheelchair because of MS. At least she's happy that her big brother is spending Easter with her.

Monday morning, I'll continue on to Indiana to get a job completed while the sheet-metal for another job goes back to the fabricator's for re-work. I should get back about the time the re-work is completed and get that job finished up.

This is all leading to the news that, at least for me, the recession is finally over. I am no longer working out of the back of my pickup truck and have a genuine shop to go to. I am happy to report that we weathered the storm and kept from being blown onto the rocky shoals of economic ruin. Leaner, for sure. Meaner, I certainly hope so. Wiser, I think so. Getting you and your company knocked on it's ass sure has taught us a few lessons. Lessons that I hope that we remember for a long time.

When you are going full tilt and things are going well, the if it's working, don't fix it attitude prevails. But when it's not working so well, you are forced to get creative, work both harder and smarter and fix the very things that you knew needed fixing.

As Murphy always said, it's a new day and a new deal and it looks like it's going to be a mighty fine new day.

I hope to have a chance to nosh on some regional and ethnic food that is getting harder and harder to find out West. Like the Polish and Italian food in the Cleveland area and the Amish food in both Ohio and Indiana. I honestly don't know of one decent Amish place in all of LA or Orange counties.

More in a few days from Indiana.

USN

Every now and then, I reflect on my years in the Navy. I spent eight years on active duty in Uncle Sam's Canoe Club having joined up when I was seventeen while still in high school. I actually went to boot camp at Great Lakes between my Junior and Senior high school years.

The Navy was an enormous influence on who, and what, I am. After boot camp, the Navy told me that I was a smart kid and as a result of my test scores I could do anything that I wanted. I wanted to fly jets but two years of college were required back the to be an Aviation Cadet and as a high school senior,I didn't qualify. The next best thing seemed to be Guided Missile School, so off I went to GMS outside of Virginia Beach. After Basic Guidedmissileman "A" School, off I went to Terrier SAM School at the General Dynamics plant in Pomona where they were built.

Two years at the Navel Ammunition Depot in Crane Indiana where I reenlisted for six years into the Regular Navy and off I went Advanced Missile Technician "B" School at Mare Island in Vallejo.

Next I and my new bride were transfered to San Diego to serve on the USS Constellation a new supercarrier. I didn't much care for life on an aircraft carrier and fortunately after six months, I was transfered to new ship construction at Todd Shipyard on Harbor Island in Seattle. We commissioned our new Guidedmissile Destroyer the USS Waddell and charged around Puget Sound for two months shaking her down and wringing her out.

On Halloween of 64, we pulled into Long Beach which would be our homeport for the next four years. It truly was love at first sight. After Cleveland and Norfolk and Southern Indiana, I was finally home, and after forty seven years, I'm still here.

My ship has been de-comissioned, leased to the Greek navy, de-comissioned again by the Greeks and sunk by a French Exocet, but I still favor the twenty-four hour clock, using 15 February in lieu of February 15 and tend to also favor Peacoats, Kakis, and other military type garb. After two tours to Nam and six crossings of the Pacific, the lure and the lore of the Sea is too deep to deny.

I say all of this because I truly believe that the Navy and it's men are at the top of the military food-chain. The Marines are, in fact, better trained and way more Gung Ho but they tend to be not the brightest individuals that you will ever meet. I just don't get the Army but I guess somebody has to crawl through mud and get shot at. The Air Force seems to get high quality guys, but it can hardly be called a military organization. And the Coast Guard? It's not even DOD.