Thursday, October 23, 2014

When You Shoot, You've Lost

Now this is kinda a sobering observation, recently made by Glenn Greenwald:

Syria becomes the 7th predominantly Muslim country bombed by the 2009 Nobel Peace Laureate.

Which again causes me to turn to Duncan Black, who blogs at Eschaton:

Wars Are Bad
And if for some reason the people who run the United States feel the need to start one, it means they've failed. It means they should all resign in shame and let someone else clean up their mess. This country has immense power - military, economic, political - and if you can't use the latter two, along with the implicit threat of the first one, to make war unnecessary then you've fucked up and it's time to go home.

I still cannot fathom the nearly headlong rush to make war on ISIS.  Congress rattles its sabers yet steadfastly refuses to even discuss a declaration of war as called for in our Constitution.  To hear the talking heads tell it, ISIS is the devil incarnate and Must.  Be.  Stopped.  Now.  At any and all costs.

Perhaps a better, saner approach might be this one, as I posted a couple years ago, where we'd take war dollars and use them for humanitarian purposes instead:

We're declaring a unilateral cease-fire.  And in lieu of fighting we are taking those combat dollars to dig wells, immunize children, and build roads and bridges.

Perhaps I am naive but I do speak from the knowledge base of decades of work for the DOD, and say as I hold a grandchild on my lap, by God, we can do better than this.  We have to do better than this.

Wednesday, October 22, 2014

Macho Campers...and Ultrarunning

A couple weeks back the bride and I took a road trip to visit a dear old friend in the St. Louis area.

While cruising along I-70 somewhere in Indiana, we passed this camper on the interstate.  I just had to snap a picture:

[image credit Gary]

I found the model name, Avenger, to be extremely odd.  I mean, who thinks this can possibly be an appropriate name for a travel camper??????

Or maybe I just have it all wrong.  Perhaps camping is really a blood sport.  And maybe, too, I've gotten it all wrong with Ultrarunning.  I'm thinking I should rename my 2-bottle pack The Terminator, and my water bottles Smith, and Wesson.


Monday, October 20, 2014

A Bizarre Warning Along the Appalachian Trail

While visiting the in-laws recently in Tower City, PA, I took a short run over in Stony Valley.  There is a rails-to-trails path off Gold Mine Road which intersects the Appalachian Trail some 3.5 miles in.

Anyway, an interesting warning sign appears at the trailhead, warning of possible unexploded ordnance from an Army base nearby:

Hope you can enlarge sufficiently to read the warning poster.  I don't know about you, but the last thing that I want to think about while I'm running trails is military activity and the possibility--even if extremely remote--of getting blown up.

Sunday, October 19, 2014

Cats in Art: Unknown Kitty With Charlie

From my continuing weekly Sunday series of cats in art. I'm using some ideas from the coffee table book, The Cat in Art, by Stefano Zuffi. 

In this case, I'm stretching the concept of Cats in Art and using a real-life photo to honor my recently departed father-in-law, Charlie:

[image credit Gary]

Charlie acted tough at times but in his heart was a pussycat, a real cat lover.  And there's nothing cuter than a black and white farm kitty.  I always call them Holstein cats, after the black and white dairy cow that predominates the local farms.

Friday, October 17, 2014

Yes, They Watch TV....

....or else Batman has done a home invasion here:

[image credit Mister Tristan, the 6-year-old human being, not the blog]

Mister Tristan loves to take photos.  He, being only 6, takes a lot of junk shots, but fairly frequently he gets a good one, as in the one above.

Thursday, October 16, 2014

The Turtles

This post is inspired by mine of yesterday.

Some months earlier in 2014, the bride and I and several other Baby Boomer couples went to the Luhr Center at nearby Shippensburg State University to see the Turtles.

Yes, the Turtles.  You can scope out Wikipedia for their history and play list.

The name sounds, well, stupid is the only word that comes to mind today in 2014, but in the 1960s, this group was the bomb.  Rivaled the Beatles.  They had a variety of hits, but the one that always arrested me so was the 1967 song "You Showed Me," a tune that was at once haunting, mysterious, and full of longing:

Wonder what the Reese Hollow turtles might think of this?

Wednesday, October 15, 2014

Seen Along the Trail

Image credit Gary

A box turtle along the Reese Hollow Trail.  Of course, I picked the turtle up a tried to peer into his/her eyes.

Then I thought, "How would I like to be picked up and examined by a huge and possibly hostile creature?", or however a turtle would express it in turtle language.

So I put it down and resolved not to do that in the future.  Instead, I will just embrace the magic of the moment.

Tuesday, October 14, 2014

Another Golf Ball Find; Now Apparently Breeding

In looking back through the archives of Mister Tristan (the blog, not the 6-year-old human being), I see where it's been a year since my last incisive and insightful blog post on the phenomenon of golf balls found while running at places that made no sense.  

And here in another post I floated the theory that these misplaced gold balls are actually alien eggs:

The ubiquitousness of finding golf balls in unlikely places now leads me to consider some formerly outlandish theories.  I'm beginning to suspect that they are alien eggs, prepositioned, awaiting a hidden signal, and when they all hatch en masse there will be hell to pay for mankind.

Well, here's the latest find, a pair of golf balls that appear to be breeding:

[image credit Gary]

I found these balls immediately adjacent to one of my favorite 10 mile training routes (OK, I found them in the nearby Concocheague Creek while canoeing, but for sake of this blog post just go with it).

The pair of golf balls--perhaps one male and one female--appear to be linked via what can only be some sort of sex organ.   If this does not constitute irrefutable proof, I don't know what would.

Be afraid.  Be very afraid.