Real News

The passing of entertainers Michael Jackson and Farrah Fawcett were hot items in the news, this week, but not the news.

That the President of the US sided with Venezuelan President Chavez in protesting the ouster of the Leftist Honduran President was in the news, but not really news.

That a slap on the wrist given a SUV driver after killing a Texas motorcyclist is onerous, but still, not the news.

The news, this week, was that whites won a discrimination case in the US Supreme Court. The case overturns a decision made by Obama's racist nominee Sotomayor. Since the Left is all hot to get her confirmed, racial equality in America may very short lived, in fact, one dissenting Justice remarked that the decision doesn't have "staying power".

That means that once Sotomayor is confirmed they expect that the buying of "minority" votes, institutionalized racism, modern Jim Crowe will continue, but, you can say you were alive the day the Supreme Court was, for an instant, not the political tool of the Left.

AP article

Respecting the Law

There's a walk I take through the neighborhood, for exercise, two miles, round trip, mostly up and down Matlock Road, two lanes wide, mostly without sidewalks. Jill often walks with me. We've been taking this walk for so long that the locals recognize us and inquire after Jill, should she not be with me, and most of the neighborhood dogs don't bother to bark at us.

Not halfway down Matlock Road a street with only two houses on it tees off into the brush. For a while a Border collie pup would run out from one of the houses and follow us for a few yards before returning home. An older female terrier began running out with the collie and barking at us. Soon, the collie began barking, as well, and both dogs became increasingly aggressive, baring their teeth and running at us. Waving a hat or bandanna no longer deters them and I began picking up chunks of concrete and stones to throw at them. Jill has suggested I call Animal Control but its been my experience that they can't get past a donut shop any faster than a city cop unless the call is about a trapped possum.

On this day, I prepared for my walk by tying what is called a "clevis" or "bow" shackle to seven feet of line.



As we passed the side street the two dogs, plus a younger pup, ran out of the back yard to where Jill and I walked. I ran them off and we continued on our way.
On the return leg they ran out again, seemingly determined to get a bite in, this time. The female was particularly aggressive and I was swinging my rope and holding her at bay when we noticed a Corpus Christi Police Department patrol car drive past us, damned near close enough to be hit by my rope.

Jill was scandalized that the car didn't even slow but I yelled, "Hey, Lady!" then, "Hey, Officer!" hoping that the cop spoke English.
Her head came out of her ass with a loud "pop!" and she turned around and pulled up to where we'd escaped the animals.
I was miffed. I looked at her and asked, incredulously, "You didn't see those dogs attacking us?"

She told me, "I thought it was your dog".

I thought, 'Yeah, bullshit' but replied:
"The dog that was baring its teeth and trying to bite me? No, lady, that's not my dog."

I told her they came after us whenever we walked and finally made her understand at which house they belong.
She drove around the corner and Jill told me she hoped the dogs ran out after the cop the way they ran after us. I doubt she got her dead ass out of the car.

Now, even if this genius thought the three dogs I was holding off were my dogs, she should have stopped and tried to write me a ticket for violating the "leash law". I'm tempted to get all "neckish (redneck-like)" and comment on the quality of cops Affirmative Action is putting on our streets, and might make a case in this instance, but it's not just that. CCPD sends these uniformed posers out to the Bluff because it's supposed to be an area where they can quickly become experienced. I don't know what kind of experience they are supposed to be getting since they mostly stay in their cars, windows up, oblivious to, or contemptuous of, the people they are supposed to be protecting and serving.

A few days ago, when I mentioned the dogs to an old Bluff rat (whose house I pass on my walk), he offered to lodge a complaint with the dogs' owner (I declined because I feared he might not know when to quit lodging). And, you know, he's not even on the city payroll.

While in Christine...

One summer, as my wanderings took me through the town of Christine, TX, my pillion du jour leaned forward to inform me that she was hot (she was).

I suggested she remove the sweater vest she wore over her long sleeved shirt. Instead, she decided to wear only the vest, removing it and her shirt as we rode through the little town.My rear views were full, I'll tell you, as, I assume, were the eyes of any townsfolk who were not at siesta.

Nothing like that happened this past week.

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Fiddlin' around in Goliad town.

Well, here I am, on the road again; here I am, taking more pictures. Jill was taking pictures, too. The experienced traveler, recognizing the road behind me as US-59, immediately knows the picture was taken in the historic Texas town of Goliad, and that it wasn’t exactly bustling on a hot Saturday afternoon.



No bustle, no problem. In fact, part of the attraction of the 90-mile ride to Goliad is that it can be made almost entirely on Farm-to-Market roads. Our friend, Jo, rode pillion with me and our compadre and fellow musician, Darryl, rode his Yamaha V Star.



Jill set the pace on her 750 Honda Magna and in good time we were pulling up to Wanda’s Restaurant.



We’d been to Wanda’s soon after it opened, a couple years ago, but when asked if she remembered what we’d ordered, the waitress said she didn’t know because she didn’t work there, then. We let her slide. Seriously, she was an excellent waitress and we acknowledged her efforts before leaving.

Now, I wasn’t going to get in the wind without making a few pictures of my gang.

They're not smiling so much as laughing at me. Instead of "cheese", I told them to say, "Mike's the best", and things just sort of deteriorated.

Jill, on the other hand, has a way of putting her subjects at ease and getting good pictures, perhaps because she's as calm as I am manic.



We had fun photo documenting the day but it got to be time to wind things up and ride the snake.
We had a good ride, good company and good food. We had it made in the shade, Baby.


The road goes on forever

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Shooting up the countryside.

Years back, I got a Sears 35mm SLR camera in a trade. I found out later that it was a Pentax and a fine camera it was, too. It finally bit the dust, though, and the outdated camera repair guys in San Antonio said that parts were no longer available.
We went to a camera shop where our faces were known when we shopped for a replacement and came away with a Nikon FM10.

The FM10 is much like our old Sears, with a built-in indicator of under and over exposure, auto shutter and preview. Other than that, its a manual camera. We were told that manual cameras would travel well in a saddle bag, while auto focus cameras and those with sophisticated electronics would not. The man was correct, the Nikon has been way down the road with us.

Since Jill often had the vantage of the pillion ("snatch pad" for you old school types), she became our photographer and has taken a lot of very good photographs while we were in the wind. The wind itself could be something of a nuisance, though, blowing against the 35-70mm zoom lens and blurring the image. While the camera is not particularly big, it could seem bulky between two people on a motorcycle. Focusing could be problematic, at speed, and one-handed shooting was out of the question. Along about 2004 we began to think about joining the Twentieth Century and finding a digital camera.

The digital point-and-shoot we've been using is a Sony Cybershot 7.2 mpxl. On the day it was purchased, it was pretty much state of the art for that kind of camera. Its been a workhorse and Jill has developed a one-handed technique that allows some pretty snazzy photography even when she's piloting her own bike. Digital technology tends to become less expensive, in time. The high dollar digital watch of ten years ago now comes free with a Happy Meal. Recently, I've seen very good still photography and video taken with digital cameras that cost under $100.00 US.

Digital photography is, if nothing else, convenient. If I need some advice on a repair, I can photograph the part in question and immediately post it to the technical message board or email it to my guru. It takes a lot of guesswork out of describing the problem. Preview takes the guesswork out of how good a picture was taken and you don't feel like you have to burn up a whole roll of film just to get that first picture.
So, as you might guess, I've neglected the film camera.

I didn't realize how much I'd neglected the "real" camera till I took some pictures with it set for the wrong speed of film, forgetting that I could read the film canister through a little window.
I took another run at it but used film that was intended or low light instead of the bright sunlight I was standing in.

I'd taken the camera to the ill-conceived "Lagarto Burnout". As noted in my post
"Blowing Smoke" the day was salvaged when I got up with Harleychik, and her friends. Before getting in the wind, the ladies posed for some scrap book pictures.

The picture of Harleychik, like the others taken that day, looked grainy and underexposed. I guess the fast shutter speed didn't allow for good color saturation, so I saturated it myself with handy photo software on my PC.
Photo quality aside, I think I captured Harleychik.

She's outgoing and confident, as are all the ladies in that group.

After leaving Lagarto we rode over a wide spot called "Swinney Switch" and stopped at the bar. It's called "Horneys", believe it or not, and is a page out of real Texas.



After cooling down we were ready to get back into the heat and on the road. I don't recall the details surrounding this picture, but I doubt I was going for a close-up the fellow in the foreground. I guess he's good for contrast, though, if you catch my drift.



A positive aspect of using a camera capable of using different lens openings and shutter speeds is the ability to to have some control over exposure and how much of the picture is in focus. This can also slow you down and result in missed shots. While I was focusing, someone walked into my shot.



Notice the red lollipop in the rider's right hand. I missed capturing her staring down the road with the candy in her mouth. It was one of those times you can see the kid and the adult in one person. She's a good gal, though, and mugged for me when she saw I wanted her picture.

Next, I take the camera to lunch. but that's all, for now. I'll get back as things develop.

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Blowing Smoke

"...I've been a Santa Claus to ev'ry sonofabitch in town..." (Kit Gutherz)

So, I was wandering around on the Net, last week, looking for some way to be amused on the weekend, and came across a couple of local benefit runs. One was in town and the other, near the lake, just shy of 66 miles from my doorstep.

My best compadre, who has to be in that area, pretty regularly, indicated that there had been some benefits going on out there to help out some folks who’d had a run of bad luck.

Saturday morning traffic was light and my ride to the event site was uneventful except for the minute between my engine dieing and the realization that I’d, somehow, hit the kill switch.

Ground zero was a restaurant and bar where I’d played music long ago, when it was the only building on that particular Farm To Market road. Even before the building came into view I could see a large barbecue pit on a trailer, the one my bud said had been parked on the corner for many weeks.
Behind the building, there was a large pavilion tent to seat fans of the night’s headliner band, a dunking booth and a couple of empty vendor booths.

After I parked beneath a mesquite, but before I entered the bar, I read the event flyer. They had a poker run going on, but no afternoon entertainment of any kind, odd in an area where you can't throw a rock in any direction without hitting musical talent.
Musicians and DJs will jump at the chance to be part of a charitable community event.

Just inside the front door ladies sold barbecue sandwiches. Others were folding and stacking event T-shirts or manning (womaning?) the poker run sign-up table.

Not a one shouted, “Hey, come on in, sign up for the poker run and have a cold one!”

I began to consider that, perhaps, the best part of this adventure would be the ride back to town, when who should walk by but “Harleychik”, who I’d met on a lunch ride, some months ago. She introduced me to two fellow Bluff rats I’d never met (though we recognize each other’s motorcycles) and I moseyed over to where they were sitting and got acquainted with a couple of officers of the Latin Ladies MC.

Since I’d blown by the taco stand, on the way out, I decided to try the barbecue. The ladies warned me, but I wouldn’t listen. In fact, someone gave me wristband so I wouldn’t have to pay to eat (I still kicked in the price of the sandwich, for ‘the cause’).

Let me tell you, I wouldn’t let the neighbor’s dog gnaw on meat that gristly.

The goobers who had the pit parked out front advertised Texas barbecue. There ought to be some kind of law preventing that kind of misrepresentation.

Thing is, they operate as a place of business out on that road and if they served those scraps every day they would soon be defunct. Someone suggested that it was, after all, donated meat and you couldn’t expect too much. My response to that:

1. Bullshit. I’ve attended any number of fundraisers and the worst food I’ve been served, on a scale of “sucks-to-doesn't-suck”, didn’t suck. Smaller clubs will serve good chicken or sausage rather than insult their rally goers with third-rate brisket.
2. When you want to help someone, you don’t skimp. That’s not true charity and it won’t work off any karma. Believers are admonished to ‘run hot, or run cold because the half-assed gets spit out’.

It looked to me that still another bunch of the uninitiated tried to use “bikers” as a piggy bank. I doubt they would support our legislative efforts in Austin even if they were aware of them and the volunteers didn’t seem to have any affinity for us as a group.

So, as you might guess, that price of the sandwich and a cheap Made in Honduras T-shirt was all they got out of this old boy. I blew off the poker run and there was no way I was going to spend the day sitting on hard plastic chairs listening to cookie cutter cowboy music on the jukebox while waiting for some other “hat” band to play the same stuff later on.
Instead, I took the long way home along with the other Bluff guy and the Latin Ladies and their friends. That was, for sure, the best part of the adventure.