...spawnspawnspawnspawnspawnspawnspawnspawn...
click pic

A cyclone impending. From friend Ocker Jones in Western Australia - from the important coast, near Perth. If this doesn't give you bad dreams... you might not understand. This was rolling in to Port Hedland which, in Ocker's words, "is a sh*thole of the first order. It might level the place, but it would give it a needed good rinse in the process."
click pic

...
click pic

So There's This Parrot with a Doctor on its Butt...

Every twenty four months I am required by the FAA to have a physical performed on my person by an FAA certified medical examiner. This assures that my eyes see, my ears hear, that my heart won’t explode between point A and point B, and that my prostate is not enlarged.

I’m not sure what the prostate has to do with it, but my doctor likes to check mine. I am working on a convenient, inexpensive KY jelly heating device that every doctor will be required to have once I become king.

My doctor only does flight medicals anymore. He’s pissed at the FAA, pissed at the AMA, and pissed with a lot of the world generally. He makes enough ($70 per exam, cash or check only) that he does this two weeks a month, and takes two weeks off in which he flies and sails and probably spends a lot of time alone.

His office is now located over Barnecutt’s Texaco station here in West Seattle. He doesn’t have a secretary or a nurse. Just him. Halfway through whatever part of your body he may be looking at he’ll answer the phone to book another appointment. He has two phones in his office, each with different ringers, both turned up very high. The effect is blood pressure elevating, anus-clenching, pupil dilating.

On this trip, the doctor spent most of the time with a parrot on his shoulder. He has had this parrot 22 years, but I didn’t know that. He’s only been bringing the parrot in for the last year or so he says.

He spent an inordinate amount of time making parrot noises. Not the parrot – the doctor. “Couldn’t teach this fucker to make human words. Set up a tape recorder for two days with HELLO repeating over and over. Came home one day and the machine was in pieces. She’d torn it apart. From then on I started learning parrot language. I understood.” He demonstrated some of the parrot noises he could do, and I said he was pretty good at it. He turned to the bird on his shoulder and kissed it. "See? Uncle Craig gives me good grades on my parrot talk."

He kissed the parrot a LOT. And kept talking to the parrot, referring to me as Uncle Craig. When he mumbled something about a prostate, I only knew to answer because I understood the parrot to be a female…so he must be talking to me.

My medical was renewed. My eyes are still 20/20. That’s the good news. The rest I’ll save for myself. Or I’ll go whisper it to the Red Dog.

Disassemble

Okay, I usually stay away from this kind of thing, but I just heard a quote I can't resist.

George W. was doing his press conference today, and he was responding to a question about released detainees of Gitmo complaining about being mistreated.

He said this nice and slowly so he could get it right.

"It seemed like to me they based some of their decisions on the word of and the allegations by people that were held in detention, people who hate America, people that have been trained in some instances to dis-assemble - that means not tell the truth."

THE WORD IS DISSEMBLE, MORON.

To dis-assemble is to take something apart, like he is doing with our country. Dissemble is to not tell the truth.

Good rule of thumb: if you kinda think you know the right word, but you aren't sure, don't use it in a nationally televised press conference.

WTF is wrong with this country right now? Don't we all see this?

Yet Another Chelan Weekend

Memorial weekend at Lake Chelan. For thousands, apparently, this means jetskis, beerbeerbeerbeer, hiphop/rap, sunburns, the eternal pursuit of sins of the flesh. I'm okay with all that. But it's a massive scene for the under 22 set, and I am now not only not that set, I am double the high end of it.

Further up the lake... Chateau Marmot hosted Jon and Beth, and the Red Dog. We were vastly more civilized. Beth taught Jon to fly cast, which Jon picked up in about five minutes. (He even nailed the roll cast in about four tries. Fantastic.) The neighbors Barb and LaWanda took us out on their boat. The house is at mile 11 on the south shore; we motored up to Stehekin at the head of the lake - 55 miles from Chelan. Staggering beauty, and no jetskis. Wide open spaces, steep cliffs, mountain goats, osprey, eagles, and a mimosa.

Some photos in black and white - I'd love to say it's because I was being artistic, but in fact it was because in my haste to get a shot of a goat I pushed a special effects button on the back that made everything B&W for the rest of the day...

Went for a drive in the hills across the Columbia River. That's the Chelan vehicle (I leave it at the airport there so I have something to drive when I fly over there.) The hills are still green, but for only another week or two...
click pic

Never a more focused dog than Red when she spotted the mountain goats. Separated by 40 or 50 yards of water...and she's not a swimmer. It's a good thing.
click pic

Goat! We found mountain goats gamboling on the rocks. We were almost as fascinated as Red was.
click pic

Jon having a Stehekin moment. This is at the very top of Lake Chelan. It's a town of 80 year round residents. The only way in or out is by boat or float plane. Odd life...
click pic