"Life Is Far Too Important To Take Seriously"

The Longest Race: The Legendary 'Round Waldron Row

2007-01-19T16:06:00.000-08:00

Ok, well, I'm sick as a dog and not really up to anything more than laying around in bed spacing out so I figured I might as well update the blog. I think, since I have nothing better to write about, I'll add issue four to the continuing saga of the Black Dog and her stalwart crew. Previous issues can be found here, here and here or on our boxed set of syndicated episodes, Black Dog: The complete seasons (as seen on TV) for only $29.99 (some restrictions apply, void where prohibited). Now say that five times faster. Anyway, this issue of Life goes out to someone near and dear to my heart who is spending the day high on painkillers due to a wisdom teeth extraction. Hopefully the fading effects of the anesthesiologist's handy work will help make this post amusing enough to keep her entertained. [author's not: reading the previous issues hotlinked above is highly suggested to appreciate the full nuanced details of the saga, the elaborate character development and...and... yeah, whatever]

Hem hem...

It was a long time ago, a time lost in the mists of folklore and shrouded by the mysteries of legend, when the crew of the Schooner Black Dog set out from Stuart Island on a journey of discovery and daring. Their quest? To attend the annual 'round island row on fabled Waldron Island.

So, after waking up their infamous engine with a few healthy squirts of starting fluid (the equivalent of a stiff shot of hooch), our heroes set off, weaving out of Reid Harbour, propelled by a newly invigorated Mr. Tomos. Once on the other side of James Pass we passed into uncharted waters and, cutting Mr. Tomos off (he was starting to get a little unsteady from all the rum and we figured it was indecently early to be getting smashed...), we hoisted sails and enjoyed a merry romp across to North Bay. When we landed we descovered that the natives of the island were enthralled with the technology of our vessel. It seems that they were still mired in the Dark Ages of waterborne transport and had never before seen sails, or anything more advanced than paddles and oars. We gathered that there was a legend on the island fortelling the coming out of the North West of a great black ship with white sails crewed by friendly gods who would share the secrets of their cultural advancements. We were able to capitalize on this adoration to get the cheerful pygmies to help free Black Dog from the North Bay sandbar that had caught us unawares. Oh C'mon, at least we didn't steal all their gold and infect them with smallpox: Cortez is rolling around in his grave right now.

The first leg of the race was straightforward enough, simply a decorous broad reach around to fishery point. This was, by the standards of the ship, entirely uneventful: Which is to say it was only punctuated by a totally reasonably number of slam jibes, jammed halyards and frantic scrambles to the weather rail. Actually, on one of our slam jibes I swear I saw the exposed topside between the water and our lee gunwale become skinnier than an anorexic Lindsey Lohan, not counting silicon implants of course. It was even smaller than a one to ten expression of Orlando Bloom's acting talent. I could go on like that all night but all the celebrity cracks make me feel like I'm on a bad sitcom. Make that just a Sitcom in the interest of eliminating redundant words.

Anyway, after trading epithets with the helmsman our author pried his fingers loose from the weather rail and surveyed the horizon with a suitably jaundiced eye. No I was most emphatically NOT looking for a piece of dry land close enough to swim too, what a terrible suggestion! Regardless, my eyes lit on Fishery point close on our starboard bow. Unfortunately it seemed that the tide at the point was not exactly working in our favor and even though we were wooshing toward the point at a good five knots we were...gasp... going backwards. Half an hour later we were in the same place. Every time the wind would come up for a moment and we would nearly round the point it would die just in time to sweep us back to our original position. I was rapidly becoming convinced that we were unwittingly trapped in a Salvador Dali painting, complete with melting clocks. Either that or Fishery point was really an illusion tied to a stick and attached 50 long yards off our bowsprit. Well, we've all heard you can whistle for a wind but I'm here to say that cursing a blue streak for 45 minutes straight works too. Needless to say, we eventually rounded the point and started the long beat up the windward leg of the route. Well, lazy men that we are we decided to wake up Mr. Tomos from his stupor and get a little help. Tom was none to pleased, I imagine the engine noise was hell with his hangover, but we were able to tempt him with a few shots to the corroborator and the hair of the dog that bit him seemed to work. Off on our merry way again we made it around Pt. Disney and on to the downwind leg. There, spread out in front of us, their exhausted crews slumping over their oars, was the rest of the fleet. We had the time of our lives swooping through the fleet running wing on wing, making fragile rowboats scatter from our path. I swear I didn't take helmsman lessons from a retired trireme captain.

I'd like to say we won the race, but that might be stretching the truth even more that I already have. The only boat to beat us was a huge umiak crewed by 12 of the largest and strongest natives. We could console ourselves however with the knowledge that though they beat us it wasn't by much and they were dripping with sweat while we were lazing about in the cockpit eating cookies and holding our sheets with two fingers. A boatload more converts to the wisdom of sail I think. Either that or a boatload of converts to the total lack of wisdom of paddles, but it comes to the same thing in the end doesn't it?

Mail Boat 2

2006-12-03T16:23:00.000-08:00

Where were we.... Oh yeah, I'm slaving away on the cabin. Onward!

The splash well going in. The moter mounts on the transom and tilts up into the center bay of the slash well. The bottom of this is sloped so that any water which tries to sneakily creep abourd over the transom is thwarted and drains right back out. The outside two bays are decked with battery compartments under them.

Tumble Home rising strakes installed and the aft cabin started.

Motor well finished and aft cabin rear bulkhead partially installed. The hatch you can see in the main cabin is to allow removal of the fuel tank if/when Tony ever needs to in the far distant future. Blind cutting with a skillsaw into bulkhead with a gastank immediatly behind it just seems like something to be avoided if possible....

Aft cabin framing going in. The top is basically cut in quarters with the outer two quarters decked and the inner two with hatches that fold out to allow access to aft locker or fold shut to provide a roof. Who ever designed this must have been a genious I say....

Glueing up the two hatches as on lamination in place on the hatch frame.

Zillion Piece teak riser for the hatches. For the hatches to open 180 degrees they either have to be hinged like a door, i.e., the hatch is flush with the top of the deck the way a door is flush with the wall, or, the hatch has to be raised atleast the thickness of the hatch on a rail. This might seem obviouse, but it took me long enough to figure out. Witness:

That's why I keep a large stack of scrap 2x4's around, so I can hit myself on the head with them.... Anyway, obviously the door style means a major leak point so I designed the rail instead. the rail has a 3/4" tall lip on the inside (visible in the picture) so that any water which makes it through the horizontal hige joint will be stopped from going into the cabin.
bloody beautiful I say! snazzy knees and hatches installed. The knees extend all the way to the seats so that any water which lands on the seat tops will be directed into the bilge instead of running the length of the boat and wetting everything that is supposed to be dry. *pat pat*, I'm awsome, what can I say.

Hinges every foot should give enough support to componsate for the cantilevered front corner of the hatchs. besides, they close together really tightly.

viola, they work~!

Ok, fast forward through all the trim work, tow rails, interior, systems (steering/fuel/throttle/trim/tilt etc. ), the motor mount and the electrical (totaling almost three weeks of work...). Here's the boat on the trailer ready to launch.
and launching:

Look at the beam on Tony's face!

Damn those hatches gleam! the teak handles on the hatch tops are spaced so they land on the toe rails on the side decks when the hatches are open. that way when you drop the hatches you don't destry everything when they land.

that is what's know in the trade as a hell of a bow...

Tony and I heading out for the afternoon mail run/ maiden voyage. wind SE 30kt gusting 38kts, seas 3' at 5sec. No place at all for a 19' boat, but she handled it like a trooper. Cadillac smooth ride both up and down hill (thanks to the horizontal forefoot and balanced ends). No pounding and totaly dry. the spray pattern was supperp and there was no engine noise thanks to the aft cabin. planes cleanly fully loaded (full fuel tank, two people and mail) in both rough and smooth water. all in all a smashing success.
Not to mention cute as a button....

New Mail Boat For Waldron Island

2006-12-03T15:06:00.000-08:00

Here is a short overview of one of my summer projects, a new mail boat for waldron island. I plan to write a nasty, long, indepth post jammed to the ceiling with brine soaked jargon but since I haven't gotten to it yet I think I'll just throw up an outline and some orgasmic pictures.

Tony Scruton (Waldron mail carrier) approched me last christmas about throwing around some design concepts for his planned new boat. I thought it was a pipe dream, but I did the design work anyway because I can never pass up the chance to use CAD and talk endlessly about boats. June rolled around and Tony was even more serious since his current boat was decomposing daily. here, after much haggling, is the finished design minus the cabin which I designed later.

As I said, I am going to write a post about the design and build later that explains the oh so subtle and sophisticated intricacies of that picture. I'm sure you're all waiting with batted breath....

Anyway, I started the build the last week of august and launched mid november. that means it was 2.5 months elapsed time but I was gone for two weeks of that, so only two months build time. Sorry, just had to pat myself on the back, I;m quite proud of that feat.

The shop. the beam in the forground is the strongback that I assembled the hull on. I built the boat ubside down on frames plumbed to the strongback to keep everything lined up. I know the shop looks fairly idylic, but that was in august.... trust me, come the rain and a few solid wind storms and it desintigrates into a mud soaked desaster area:

The shed on the left used to be raised on four foot stilts with lumber storage under and the wall forming the workbench back. unfortunatly after a 50knt storm in early November the whole shebang came down and pretty much ruined my life. The boat is mumified in tarp since it was raining when I took the picture.

Frames, Stem and Transom set up on the Strongback. Fast Forward to the Bottom Installed:

The bottom is built up from yellow ceder planks I milled out on the table saw. They lap each other with 45 degree bevels which are glued and screwd with epoxy and stainless. End result: bulletproof bottom.

The chines, ripped full length in all their bannana shaped glory from yellow ceder, support the side/ bilge panel joint. They are notched into every frame and beveled fair.

Squint and you can start to see the shape of the bow. One of Tony's main agendas was a more comfortable ride with less pounding which is why I designed this mean bow.
You can never have enough clamps.

Gorgous fairing job all ready for the bilge panels. You have no idea how much time with an angle grinder this picture represents....

All seams are fiberglass taped then the whole exterior up to 2 inches above the waterline is sheathed in one seamless layup.

Right side up-- So far I am only 2 weeks into the build. The hull is a tiny fraction of the work, so now comes the hard part....

One of the many sheets of notes I made during endless descussiongs with Tony about how to do the cabin/interior arraingment. I later mushed it all into CAD and built some kind of bastardized version onto the poor innocent hull.

Time Passes. Zephyr Swears. Alot.

The odd submerine tube sticking out of the bow is the fill pipe for the 12gal permanent fuel tank that is being istalled.

The seats cover 13' long air tight floatation tanks. Talk about a pain in the posterior to build, but the they turned out beautiful.

Ok, this is turning out a lot longer/bigger than I had anticipated, so I think I'll post the rest in another article. Stay tuned for issue 2.

Yes There Is A Difference Between SchoonerBumm And A Rotting Cow carcass

2006-06-02T14:03:00.000-07:00

Well, it's that time my children- Time yet again for a new issue of Schoonerbumm's Fictional AutoBio. Of course, these events are recorded with utmost and utterly scrupulous accuracy, the mere thought of exaggeration or embellishment is simply insulting to the author. So sit back, take out your salt shakers (better yet, you may as well get out the largest supply you have in the house, just to be prepared should the unthinkable occur...), and enjoy the Wondrous Saga of Schoonerbumm's first time windsurfing on Bellingham Bay.

Schoonerbumm, your modest author, was already a pro windsurfer. After all, he had been out twice on lake Whatcom, and for a sailor of his caliber, that should be enough to qualify for pro status... Or so he thought.... Unfortunately, all his romantic illusions were about to be doused in ice water, both figuratively and literally, because Schoonerbumm was about to confront the ultimate sailboarding test: Legendary Bellingham Bay in a solid storm. Now, our hero set out cockily from the dock, almost immediately hitting planning speed. He was still sheltered behind the breakwater, but it really couldn't be that bad out there could it? Err... Well, suddenly, as Schoonerbumm cleared the end of the bar his wariness went up 500% (actually 527.87%, but rounding off...). It turns out that it actually was quite nasty, waves a few feet high and suddenly much stronger wind. Actually, it looked like an immense amount of fun to our naive hero who, despite the increased wariness, was still confident and cocky. Ahh, the beautiful immortality of youth... Now our hero, in 20/20 hindsight, can see how Napoleon came to invade Russia. Schoonerbumm gallantly defeated wave after wave, leaping off every one and getting the ride of his life. He rocketed around with flying colors, his Ulm and his Austerlitz passing by in a blaze of glory, but unfortunately, unbeknownst to him, his Waterloo was waiting in ambush on the horizon. Yep, it all started, as so many sailing accidents... er, make that mishaps... with a mistimed jibe.

For those of you who don't know, sailboards don't have a rudder so you steer by adjusting your weight and moving the sail forwards and back. To jibe (or pass to the other tack when you are going down wind) you move the sail forward, following slightly with your weight. Of course, this digs the bow in, and, if you happen to be going ~500 mph and if there happens to be a huge malicious and hungry wave directly in front of you at the time you sink your bow... Well, let's just say it's not pretty... Perhaps a picture is in order at this point, and besides, I would rather avoid the painful task of giving a blow by blow of this embarrassing event.

Well, there you have it basically. Take special note of the image running through our projectile hero. Actually, a human cannon ball isn't especially apropo here. For we physics and engineering majors, the similarities between medieval siege weapons and Schoonerbumm's mishap are striking. Observe:

See? Inescapable. The only real difference is the projectile. I mean, catapults either fired huge rocks to break castle walls, or rotting cows to hack off the fortress' inhabitants. Obviously, neither of these are even remotely close to sexy and ruggedly handsome sailors. Notice the well tanned abbs and badass bicepts. As if that wasn't enough of a giveaway, the curly, black, and fashionably windswept hair should make the projectile's identity clear... Well, Schoonerbumm's studlyness aside, here's a nifty little physics diagram for all you geeks in my readership. Notice the salient figure, underlined in red.

Geez, that expensive physics education is good for something after all....

Well anyway, the aftermath is not a subject I'd like to address. I'm sure you can all connect the dotes sufficiently to conclude that it involved another large wave, a face plant, and featured a very wet Schoonerbumm. I think we can pull a decorous curtain across what followed, especially since it included, if I recall correctly, a rather long, loud, and very very blue streak of invective... Of course, it was also totally badass, and our irrepressible hero immediately remounted his board and rocketed off again, this time slightly (slightly...) more cautious. He made it back to the dock a while later, a wetter but wiser man. Naturally everyone observed that even dripping as he was, his eyes were distinctly bright and he was anything but frowning.

So now, after successfully sucking up another ten minutes of your life with my inane stories, it's time to wrap this enthralling saga to a close. I have important business of a sensitive nature to accomplish, so I better get on with it.
And you! Yeah, you, the one with the vacant expression and glazed eyes whose drooling all over their keyboard! Don't you have something more worthwhile to do than read the embellished reminiscent of a mad maniac? Oh wait, that's me I'm talking about, maniac my eye. Mad I'll settle for though, how about mad sailing obsessed incredibly studly brilliant lunatic?
Well, anyway, my self applied epithets aside, you should be off. Don't you have some of my bidding to do or something?

My Fingers Are Worn To Stumps

2006-05-31T20:38:00.000-07:00

Ok, I've been doing my scullery maid thing all day, complete with evil step mother, glass slipper and giant pumpkin. Oh, wait. Ok, myabe not the pumpkin, that's just rediculus, but everything else! Errr... Ok, so it was just scullery maiding, but there was so much of it I figure it makes up for the lack in step mothers, slippers and pumpkins. Anyway, I'm totaly done in, I need to replenish my elbow grease properly since typing feeds off the same source (ie sore arms complaining about how much you've mistreated them). So, in lue of a real post, here are two pictures for your veiwing pleasure. MMMmmmmmmm....

I am awsome. Suateed chicken bitches.... And yes Mother dahling, those are fresh greens you see, not to mention the salad that we had along with it. Damn, makes ya' proud don' it?

SchoonerBumm's Secret Past As An Academic Prodogy

2006-05-29T21:48:00.000-07:00

Soo-a, lets-a see-a ladies and gentlemen (well, that covers most of you...), I have a horrible confession to make. I've been cleaning. Wait, don't run away yet, that's not the horrible confession, although I must admit it does somewhat diminish my badass persona. Anyway, I've been going through my old stuff and I found a folder full of terrifying beasts from the crypt. Yes, my old science and math notes. Don't even ask why I kept them, that would be even more embarrassing an admission then I'm already making. So you can fully appreciate just how tremendously intelligent (read mindbogglingly geeky) I am, here are a few pictures. Oh, sorry, I remember, I'm geeky, so make that photographic renderings...

Whew, I was a genius, to think I once know what all those silly little scribbles meant. I could even produce them all by my po' little self! Luckily I am a better and wiser man now and can't make head or tail of the hieroglyphics. Hey! Shut Up! I'm not that geeky! Of course I don't remember any of that... (He shouts sounding like an axe murderer loudly proclaiming his innocence from the witness box.)

Ugh, now my secret's out. It looks like the first two are from physics, I see some Gaussian surfaces and indefinite integrals in three dimensions.... Frightening. The last two are from Limits, Infinite Series and Proofs. Just so you know, that really is an upside down A all over the place, you aren't looking at the picture the wrong way up. I see some Greek letters (always a sure sign that it absolutely must be advanced and badass) and then the upside down A and backwards E. I don't have any clue what they mean so don't ask.

...

Ok, you found me out, the A means "for every" and the E means "there exists". The Greek signifies.... Wait, this is getting a little too terrifying, maybe I should just stop now. I'm beginning to regret exhuming these mummified cadavers; they really shouldn't be allowed out of windowless classrooms into the wide world or be exposed to bright sunlight instead of flickering blue fluorescent.

Really, I am not a geek. I am not a geek. I am an ignorant football playing middle American tough guy who says words like "sick" and "kegger" and enjoys spending time at the gym: therefore, I must be "cool". In fact, my overly muscled arms are so unweildly that I broke my last five computers when I tried to check my email (only after my atrophied brain failed to dredge up my username, especially pathetic since it's my first initial and last name), and my huge calloused fingers are so ham handed that I can't type this entry. Wait. Shoot. Forget that last part, I just ruined my argument.... Not to mention that I am totally taking credit for the sweet handwriting in those notes, certainly not produced by a Neanderthalic, football playing, nerd bashing, jock.

Maybe it's not so bad to be a geek after all, I mean look at it this way, atleast I'm able to bitch out everyone that annoys me on this blog without smashing things. Hell, I can even use language consisting of more than a string of popular and totally inane slang terms!

Besides, I'm a sexy and rugged sailor not just a paled math nerd, so I balance it out. Instead of a flabby geek butt turned into a jiggly mass from sitting in front of a computer for too long, I have a lean, taut, and in every way alluring ass, toned by striding confidently up and down heaving brine soaked decks.... Ok, that's it. Waxing poetic about your own ass is about the end of the line, quite obviously time to go to bed.

So, I leave you all for now, forced once again to the conclusion that I am awsome and have physics-defyingly large equipment. ... I'm trying to keep this on a strictly euphemistic level, but I don't think I'm succeeding....

(Insert Random And Totaly Irrelivent Song Quote Here)

2006-05-22T22:09:00.000-07:00

Yet again I find myself writing a random post about happenings instead of the post I had planed (as I'm sure you are well aware, it was going to be brilliant...). Ah well, I'll get plenty of opportunities to write those elusive articles (the brilliant ones that is) later, so I may as well just blab for now.

Firstly, I have been staving off an evil but short lived flue (or something nasty and unhealthy). I have no idea what brought it on, but at least it only hung around for two days. As I said, I'm not sure what it was, but I have a couple of guesses- First, it could have been a Viciously Vile Vomitus Virus, or possibly a strain of Disgusting Dreaded Disease of Death. I still don't know for sure, but I'm leaning towards a satanic mix of the two, with the key words being Vomitus Death. Anyway, as I said, I'm over it now so all's well in the world. Oh, and incidentally, the next person who implies the Vomitus Disease of Death had anything to do with my delicious feast is going to get a surprisingly long and fluent stream of uncomplimentary invective. I have a book of Shakespearean insults here, and I'm not afraid to use it! Ok, maybe I don't, but I think I can improvise, even from my poor little brain.

Let's see, continuing with the theme of ailments, I have a confession to make: I can be surprisingly stupid sometimes. Yes, I know, I'm shattering all your ideals, but it's true (on very rare occasions...). I've been spending a lot of time at a local park (it's about two miles from home on a nice path, so it's a pleasant walk) but unfortunately my Pacific Northwest Mole Nature came out in force the other day. It was a nice windy day so it didn't seem that hot as I lay on the grass reading and writing, and I had on my sunglasses and hat so I didn't notice how viciously, atrociously, violently, maulingly, rabidly, you get the idea, bright that nasty rarely seen thing in the sky was. I only realized after I got home that afternoon and my forarms, from elbows to the backs of my hands, were completely charred. Bright, and I mean Livid, red. The next morning my wrists were actually swollen (and they hurt like hell too). I hate this injury since I know it takes over six consecutive hours of absurd stupidity to pull off a burn of this caliber. It's not like you accidentally slipped and in a split second cut yourself, no, this takes Hours of moronic-ness. Anyway, the skin is peeling and it's on the mend, so all's well in the world (again).

Hokey, it's late, I'm sick of being humble, and I have to be up at 5:30am tomorrow to catch a bus. Yes, you read that right, 5:30. Obscene. I hear there are hours earlier, but I think they get blocked in WordPress with a large black Censored stamp written in block capitals (unless you're talking about staying up till then, it which case it's all good). Anyway, heinous as it seems, I will be bright eyed and bushytailed (which is to say, blearyeyed and stooped, or just dazed and confused) at 5:30 tomorrow to head to the island on a mission of son-ly duty (I have to visit my dahling saintly grayhaird mother, aka the wonderful woman who deems it nescessary to bake everything delicious when her prodigal sons return from the Big City. Can't complain, can't complain). So, later my dearly beloved 'earers, and I promise a less fragmented post in the near future. Not that any of you care, considering that my posts are simply fodder to annoy you and enhance your dramaless lives, but hey, I try.

Transcendence Has Been Achieved

2006-05-20T09:54:00.000-07:00

Soooo, relatives were in town the other day. How is this relevant you ask? Well, actually, it's because of a comment my wonderful uncle made. He was ragging on me (in a good way I will blithely assume...) about not posting in my blog, and he said "the problem with taking this 'I'm so great' attitude is that it really makes you look bad when you don't post." Well, I was thinking about it, and I realized that it's actually quite flattering all this "batted breath" business. I prefer to think of it as fashionably late rather then slack and indolent. Being fashionably late just increases the erm... Glamour of your entrance. Actually, there's a wonderful Oscar Wilde quote from An Ideal Husband about this. Ok, I just took it out, firstly it would confirm my massive geek credentials and second, this way you might have to go read the play, which would be in your best interest. Anyway, now that we've established that I'm the life of the party and the height of fashion, time to move on.

I have an important, earth shattering, world changing announcement that's going to forever change the face of science. Yes my dearly beloved 'earers, the incredible has come to pass. Previously only theorized and the topic of a few esoteric conferences in out of the way places, the heavily disputed theory know as "Godhood Phase Change" has come to pass. This controversial topic was previously grouped with other highly unlikely theories such as quantum Physics, Time Travel and Orlando Bloom ever becoming a good actor. Now however the two lone scientists who staunchly upheld the theory through storms of ridicule and slander have been vindicated, There is solid proof. In concept the theory goes like this: Can Zephyr become even more of a Badass than He already is, given that He has achieved previously unheard of levels of Badasshood? The argument is that, like phase change in matter, given enough of an energy input Zephyr could break the bounds of mere mortal awesomeness and transcend to godhood. This state of course was previously unheard of, sort of like Plasma [supper excited gass molecules which actually change to a new state of matter].
The proof came a few days ago when Zephyr, now Demi God Zephyr, cooked a fantastical feast. Not only can He cook badass cheesecake, delicious scones, divine lasanga, mouth watering soup (also known as crockpot gulosh), earth shattering roast lamb, (you get the idea), He can also cook up wonderful, amazing, orgasmic marinated sauteed chicken (fresh basil baby), mashed potatoes (fluffy and amazing), and, to make The Mother proud, salad (also known as rabbit food, or 'green stuff'). Magically delicious. Combined with the raspberry cheesecake He made a few days earlier, transcendence was certifiablely accomplished.
YEEEEESSSSS!!!!
[Note, please don't expect replies to marriage offers without at least a several week delay, His bureau Of Fan Mail is overloaded already simply from the cheesecake. He may have to hire another secretary to deal with the new input...]

Ok, Ok, enough third person. Let's see, I also went down on a day trip to Seattle yesterday to give my dahling brother moral support at his dyslexia testing debrief. It was actually fascinating. I find those testing theories really interesting since people really do process information in different ways. For instance, when we walked out of the testing place we got in the elevator to go down to the ground floor and it took me several seconds to find the first floor button. The buttons were arranged totally irrationally (in my humble opinion). Basically all the even numbers were ordered in descending order in the left column and all the odds the same on the right. The result was that the number 1 was in the bottom right corner... Kinda weird. I personally would have ordered them ascending in columns with 1 in the top left followed by 2 below it etc. Of course, someone thought the existing order made sense or they wouldn't have put it there.... Anyway, the debrief was very interesting. Unfortunately it required 5 hours on the Greyhound for yours truly, but anything for my dahling brother (I am such a martyr, you can practically see the stigmata on my palms can't you...). Ok, I'll pull the stupid spear out of my side.
One last thing about Seattle for my California relatives: The instant I stepped off the bus downtown it started to rain. It was sunny when I left Bellingham. From this I conclude that Seattle really is the most rainy place on earth and it's not just a myth to frighten off the California yuppies.

Right, well, that's all for now. I hope that was conceited enough to make up for my last overly humble post. If it isn't my Waldron fans will be disappointed. From what I've heard they are particularly interested (fixated might be a better word) with how arrogant I am. Well, don't believe everything you read, that's all I can say.... Gullible idiots...... Mutter mutter.....

1 Possesed Lawn Mower, But No 40 Pigs Or Sheer Cliff Handy

2006-05-11T18:12:00.000-07:00

Well, I was going to write a brilliant post , yes, I even had it all planned out. Unfortunately, I had several interesting adventures today which I decided to post about instead, so you'll all have to contain your overflowing curiosity and enthusiasm for my planned post and wait it out till next time. Anyway, before I begin, I have small announcement....

Life Classifieds:

WANTED: professional demon exorcist. Must have resume and references. Internal combustion engine experience a must, lawn mower and small appliance specialization preferred.

Really, I am convinced our lawn mower is possessed. It's rapidly becoming the bane of my existence; every time I fix that satanic machine it erupts 20 feet of lawn later. I wasn't aware that human minds could be twisted enough to come up with a torture machine of this caliber, but I stand corrected. Truly the most sadistic device in existence, and I include in that ranking the rack, thumb screws and English 101. Trying to mow our lawn makes the Spanish Inquisition look like a friendly tea party and a stint in the Tower of London's Dungeons look like a civilized yoga class. I still am not sure why the head of Briggs & Straton sold his soul to the devil (to sell lawnmowers?? What kind of reason is that....) but I am utterly certain he and Beelzebub are in cahoots. It didn't make any sense until I found the Briggs & Stratton logo:

See? Why didn't I guess.....

Anyway, other interesting things. On my adventures to get parts for the Demonic Machine I saw a highly amusing anomaly and a truly frightening spectacle.

The anomaly (at least I hope it's an anomaly) was seeing a pair of motorcycle policemen going into a biker store. What they could have been doing there I'm really not sure, since the store seemed (atleast from the display front) to deal mostly in German WWII patterned Harley helmets (most painted with either bomber pinups or raging flames) and fancy leather chaps, vests, jackets, gloves, headbands, etc etc. (most of these also adorned with fringe, silver conches, pinups, flames, anarchy symbols and Harley Logos). I'm fairly sure that's not standard Bellingham City Police Department wear.... I can't exactly see the Bellingham Police rocking Harley Hogs and dressed straight out of the Hell's Angels or the movie Easy Rider.

Whatever. The truly frightening spectacle was on my bus ride to the hardware store. For a moment I thought I was on drugs or something, only, instead of seeing double, I was seeing six. There, getting on the bus, was a posse of old ladies. Six pairs of myopic eyes, magnified by bottle bottom bifocals. Six identical hairdos (extreeeme old lady perm, and dazzling white). Six identical disapproving frowns. Accompanied the whole time by the buzzing of twelve hearing aids. Really, the only variation was in the exact shades of their plastic hair nets and the particular color choice of their pastel quilting bee smocks. I thought these types stayed at home, safe and sound, contained, collecting vile china knicknacks for their mantel pieces, crocheting doilies, playing bridge and gossiping loudly (and all at the same time) about the iniquities of the youth of today? What on earth were they doing out on the town, unsupervised, out of control, terrorizing and traumatizing poor innocent bystanders like yours truly? As you can see, the Hell's Grannies made an impression on me... It wasn't the disapproving stares I'm fairly sure, since I've built up an immunity to those through years of practice.... I still can't put my finger on why it was so disturbing, but just trust me, if that many cane wielding harridens crowded onto a bus with you and started talking about the Grange Knitting Club meeting, you'd be frightened too...

Well, there you have it, my exciting day in a nutshell. I haven't yet thrown in my requisite number of arrogant comments, so, for those of you keeping score (my wonderful Waldron fans), I'm just going to have to accept this post as a GPA sinker. I suppose that means I'll have to make it up next time.... Sad sad, what a trial....

Nobel Prize On The Way

2006-05-08T11:29:00.000-07:00

So, since I've been doing even more reading and writing then ever before [translation; an utterly obscene amount] I've come up with the most brilliant idea in a century, which I think it's important to share with the world. You really should be grateful I'm taking the time to educate you, after all, I have a very busy life; a stack of empty notebooks to fill with hieroglyphics, a huge pile of boatbooks to read, and... well, another stack of boatbooks...

Anyway, I realized that MS Word needs a new feature. Basically, my concept is when you open Word the first thing you get, before you can create a new document or edit an existing one, is a short (ten question) muiltiple choice English sentence correction bubble test (think SAT). If you don't do well enough you can't unlock Word and write anything. This would happen every time you tried to open the program until you had built up a consistent enough track record of success under your username. After you've proven you can recognize correct English grammar the program would stop shooting tests at you. Maybe the program could also automatically run grammar check on your writing and if your 'good English' GPA drops too far the tests would be reinstated. I'm fairly sure this would frustrate the hell out of a large portion of Word users and, if much of the writing you read is any indication, lock them permanently out of all word processing. Seriously, some people just shouldn't be allowed to write. I think I should get a Nobel prize, really. This would be a beautiful invention and a boon to society. Just think, you'd never have to read another horrible, unedited, awkward, ungainly, run on sentence on any those stupid Websites.... Oh, wait, does that include this blog? Because I certainly have absolutely no plans of giving this a read through, let alone an edit.
Anyway, Professors would love my invention too. From my experience, even in college, most people can't write to save their lives. I'm traumatized for life after peer reviewing about a million essays that are only considered English because of the spelling. Personally, I think they may actually have been in Japanese, since they read better right to left, bottom to top; atleast then it was patently obvious they were gibberish instead of putting on a false front of comprehensibility. Basically my invention would save the professors the time it takes to write huge bright red F's in their gradebooks. Instead, they just wouldn't receive any paper at all from the people who can't write basic English, very efficient I must say.

Well, it's lucky I'm perfect anyway....

Eh? I can hear that! Sarcastic scoffing won't stop my holy crusade to cleanse the world of awful writing! Oh shut up, no need to be so ghastly facetious.....

Well, anyway, there you have it; another shot of my impeccable good taste. Now, as I said, I have important business to attend too; I have to go finish my tome and rock it hard core to musicals. I'm getting in touch with my inner geek. Deeply buried though we all know it is, I figure I can tempt it out with a constant diet of Chess and writing. You should be thankful I'm not feeding it some rockin' symphonies and disgustingly complicated calculus. Still, it makes a nice change from my standard music and never ending boatbooks....

Oh, one last thing (yes, I promise, only one..). I have a theory that the only posts that get comments are the badly written ones. Basically, it seems that what it takes to sucker lurkers out of their lazy shells is a fragmented, random and generally incomplete entry. I was looking back through previous posts on a few blogs and I noticed that the most commented on entries are the ones that address, and I use the term loosely, some grand, overarching, atmospheric and whoppingly huge topic. If the post is well constructed and complete in itself then no one comments, but if it talks about 'truth', 'world peace', 'life', 'happiness' or any other overly large issue, the teenagers seem to spew out of the woodwork in their hurry to comment and solve all the world's problems in their uninformed adolescent opinions (Oh, I like that sentence, buuurn). Basically, I should write several hundred words about , let's see, how about... Love? As long as I never state an opinion, have a thesis, give examples, support my idea, or in any other way justify myself, I'll get comments up the wazoo. Maybe I'll try it. All that expensive education keeps getting in the way though, I always feel like I should actually state a complete thought, however absurd and conceited it happens to be. My solution is to wildly wave red capes at people and try to goad them into commenting, but apparently it doesn't work (but it's fun..... *evil smirk*)

Ok, that really is all for the day. Now that I've deified myself and called all my readers ignorant idiots, I think my job is done here. Until tomorrow then. You have twelve hours to prepare your fragile teenage egos for another absurd attack from Zephyr, Supreme Emperor of the Universe, Divine Receptacle of all Knowledge.

Besides, my horn is getting a little hoarse from this much tooting....

Back From The Dead (A Little After Easter, But What The Heck, Can't Have Everything...)

2006-05-06T13:03:00.000-07:00

TAAARANTARAAAA!!!

Triumphant trumpet blasts mark my reentry into the blogging world. Ahem:

"After battling a drug problem, cancer, anorexia, troubled and highly publicized breakup, surprise pregnancy, law suite, etc. (take your pick) Studliest Man Alive star Zephyr Delahunt returns to the spotlight. 'It's been a difficult time' the star reveals 'but I made it through with help from my family and friends and I'm ready to get back to work. Thank you to all my fans for your unstinting support through this episode.' Read the rest of the story inside..."

Sorry about that, obviously too many People magazine covers in the checkout line. Anyway, I really can't call a whole six comments the 'unstinting support of my fans', although I must admit, I'm a little worried about the fact that I got more comments when I didn't post then when I did.... Anyway, let's see, I think it's time to justify myself for my months absence. First, I have been writing posts but not publishing them in a sort of pacifist sit in campaign against non-commenters. Consequently I won't have to write another post for the next ten years. Then my computer went TU and Yeshe stole his off to the island, leaving me technologyless and bereft, adrift in an internetless world (sniff...). Actually, the worst part was that my iPod ran out of batteries after 20 hours (which, for your information, is not very long at all) and I was reduced to playing CD's (aren't they those funny little disk things that are about as old as eight tracks?).
Anyway, I win; I got comments!! I proved that you people can't live without the I.V. of awesomeness this blog provides and reduced you to giving me some sort of indication that you actually read my brilliant posts. Don't get me wrong, I really do feel for the lose of principle and undermining of your scruples, but really, you people are twisted harridans not to comment. Tut tut. Luckily for you I am magnanimous and gracious in victory, so I won't rub it in. Heck, I'll even return your surrendered swords in the form of posting more (purely as a salve for your shattered dignity you understand...)

Anyway, enough of that, all that emotional on-the-cross business is making me a little sick.

So let's see, what have I been up to for the past ...er...month..... Well not much after the censors have finished, so there's not much to talk about. I might have to give my censoring squad a sabbatical after all their hard work, or atleast time and a half.... [Anyone who hasn't read Catch 22 is missing out on the true meaning of censoring by the way. Sorry, I just have to plug that book. I keep having people tell me recently that they either haven't read it or they hated it. Well, that's like saying boats suck and sailing is for the birds as far as I'm concerned. Seriously blaspheming the chief statue of my idolatry... ]
Anyway, this entry might end up being a little fragmented just to get you all up to date on my amazing and exciting life. Not to mention that I've come up with rather a lot of things to piss and moan about in a month, and I wouldn't want you all to miss out on hearing about everything I hate.

Mostly I've been doing, as Alden said "...God knows what...", also known as 'whatever the fuck Zephyr does...'. Mostly, and unsurprisingly, it consists of reading an obscene amount about.... boats. Oh shut up, it's fun, it really is. Geez....

I've also been writing, as my sainted grey haird mother calls it (entirely seriously I'm sure....), 'the next great American novel'. And what's worse, it's longhand. Gasp. My arm was totally swollen from fingertips to elbow after the first couple of days, quite a sight. As my knuckles swelled my handwriting got worse and worse, so I am probably the only one who can decipher those chapters. Indiana Jones with his mad hieroglyphic translation skills might have a chance, but to anyone short of him, it looks like Linear B. It was pretty bad when my arm swelled up though, since you have all these ideas running through your head and you can't write them down. The only thing worse is reading about boats and sailing in the middle of January when you still have an ocean free desert ahead of you before June finally roles around.
Anyway, I'm at about 800 8.5x11 pages now, which translates to roughly 400 pages in the standard paperback. It's been highly entertaining. Luckily, I am absolutely confident that I'll never have to transcribe it to digital, since I have no intention of posting it anywhere, even on this blog. And anyway, once it's digital you feel obligated to run 'a quick spell and grammar check'..... Five hours later.... This way I can leave it in all it's unedited glory without suffering any twinges of conscience.
It has been fun to write though. Language is a wonderful thing. Also, any amusing phrases, quirky situations, emotional crises, etc. that have ever occurred to you can easily be included. I'm especially enjoying, predictably, engineering situations to drop all the absurd comments I've ever thought of. It's very satisfying to read back through your work and chuckle at your own jokes. Basically, it is tantamount to having the pure evidence of your own awesomeness staring you in the face. As you read you are contstantly thinking; 'my...er, yes, well,...they're HUGE!'.

Whatever, it's vile bad form to pat yourself on the back that much, but I can't help it; sometimes my own awesomeness is just too much to handle and I can't hold onto my careful facade of enigmatic mystery. For all you ungenerious people who are about to jump down my throat for my incredible arrogance, I just thought I'd fortstall you. It just might be possible that I am not entirely serious.....
Oh, and just to head off the question I know Alden is going to fire at me, no my story has nothing to do with boats. I believe the word boat is mentioned once, and, surprising as it may seem, my characters don't see anything larger then a mud puddle for the entire duration. Sad and deprived I know, they'll probly need counseling. Luckily I have a new idea and, since I'm almost done with this story, I'm already looking forward to a very wet and brine soaked plotline to follow.

One thing I've determined while writing this story is that it is mindnumbingly boring to write or read about any character who's not a complete badass. Obviously totally invulnerable and utterly godlike characters are bland [despite this I'm not bland, obviously these rules don't apply in real life...], but I think you can get away with, for instance, a total Badass who is emotionally fragile (you see this all the time, think Aragorn). Completely incompetent klutz's are no fun, but unfortunately you see them regularly too (think Harry Potter). Imagine how much more awesome the Harry Potter books would be if Dumbledor was the hero... The worst though are the emotionally fragile and incompetent protagonists. No one reads Lord of the Rings for Frodo and his moaning. No, it's Aragorn, Gimly, Gandalf and especially Golom who grab our attention. Golom is the man by the way, in case you had any doubts... Of course, Frodo is pathetic, but Bilbo rules, so some hairy footed midgets actually can turn into badass characters.
Happily, my protagonist rules, so no worries.

Anyway, I considered posting my story on here serially until I realized that 1) it is ~200+ typed pages at 12pt font and 2) if I started I would have to follow through and post the whole damn thing. I try to stay away from even that close a brush with responsibility, so you are all just going to have to be bear with your grief and remain deprived, lost and wandering.

AAAAh, ok, enough of this dribble. I'm off to finish my tome. I'm bored of maintaining this pompous writing style anyway. A hearty high five to Plumosita for keeping the blogging flame alive in my absence, now you see what I suffered through a few months ago...
Cheers all.

Oh, and one last thing; COMMENT OR DIE!!!!

Oh What A Circus, Oh What A Show

2006-03-31T00:33:00.000-08:00

Well, here I am again, posting after a very long absence. You'd think I'd learn to keep my mouth shut about degenerate social parasites who never post if for no other reason than it would cover my butt in situations like this. Ah well, laziness even gets to the best of us sometimes (he says arrogantly)... Anyway, to tell the truth, the first few days of delay were out of sheer sloth, but the rest of the delay can be chalked up to trying to finding a decent excuse. You see, I really couldn't just come barging back in blithely saying how lazy I am.... So, hmm, I'm thinking an excuse based around the theme of mild heroics in a social work setting, maybe: "so there was this evil drunken bum mugger, see? And he was stealing old ladies purses at crosswalks, well, after a heroic struggle your hero....." Never mind... Forget I mentioned it.... Maybe loafing and indolence aren't such bad excuses after all...

Anyway, seriously, I have been busy. The Mother and Baby Brother came to visit and shanghi Yeshe as their personal body guard for the Guatemala trip. Not to mention that the humble High St. Mansion is playing host to the entire Waldron youth community over the weekend. Sadly, both these visits actually mean that I have to clean up the bachelor pad. That's right, pick up the guitar picks, coil up various arcane computer and instrument cables (geek umbilical cords...) and sweep the floor. What? You think cleaning up the stacks of Naval Architecture and sailing books goes along with cleaning the house!? Wow, you are so naive.... I think they add a nice touch to the decor. Kinda like those cozy old English studies filled with leatherbound books and oiled oak.

And speaking of nonsequaters, I recently watched the musical Evita which was fantastic. I love the kind of humor you often see in musicals. It's kind of the same as Oscar Wilde's humor and quotes. The kind that makes you actually notice and accept important truths by making them funny on the surface. I often notice this when I read Wilde, you read some hilarious passage and on the surface, at the moment, that's all it is; a funny turn of phrase. Then, after you think about it for a while it just seems to detonate in your head, letting you see some important point about life, the universe, and everything in a whole new light. Don't know why I just types that all up, since no one really cares, but I just finished checking email, so my delete finger is worn out at the moment. I guess that means you poor sods are gonna have to suffer through it.....

Anyway... Now that I have stretched Nothing (with a capital N) into four paragraphs, I think my job is done here. That and it's 1:00am....

Boatbuilding On A Schedule

2006-03-24T18:47:00.000-08:00

Ah, the boatbuilder on a schedule is a truly pitiable person.... And I should know....

Then again, you can't hurry the varnish drying...

Wilde

2006-03-23T15:30:00.000-08:00

So, I watched Wilde last night, which, for my money gets very high reviews. Really, you can't go wrong making a movie about one of the most incredible writers of all time, who lead one of the most dramatic lives in recent history and who coined an incredible number of brilliant quotes. It also features amazing performances by Stephen Fry as Oscar Wilde and Jennifer Ehle as Oscar's wife Constance (who also happens to be one of my favorite actresses). Some interesting things to note about the movie:

-- Even after Oscar discovers he is gay (relatively late, and well into his marriage) he continues to have a very rich and valuable relationship with Constance. This persists even after Oscar is tried, publicly disgraced, convicted and finally sentanced to *two years hard labor* for the crime of "gross indecency". Constance is an incredible woman wonderfully portrayed by Ehle. Also affecting this is the focus the movie puts on what a nice and generally kind guy Oscar is. This is put forward as a substantial reason for Oscar's entanglement with Lord Alfred Douglas, and also a quality that explains his relationship with Constance.

--Another interesting angle the film takes is its stance on the physical aspect of Wilde's gay affairs. This is downplayed, not only in terms of actual film time, but also in the sense of explaining the importance Wilde gave this aspect of being gay. The thrust (...) of the movie, supported by quite a lot of historical fact, is that physical love was not really that important to Wilde. Instead, being a Greek buff, he was very interested in the Mentor/Disciple relationship that was the ideal of "Greek Love". As he says "It is Intellectual love, and it constantly shows itself between an older man and a much younger man, where the older man has intellect and the younger man has all the bloom and glamour of Youth before of him." This obviously impacts his relationship with Constance, since she at some level understands what is going on and accepts that she is still an important part of Wilde's life.

--It was interesting to me to note my reaction to Wilde's affairs in terms of cheating on Constance. For some reason, I didn't find his affairs with other men particularly offensive, by which I mean that the way the movie made you sympathies with Wilde and admire Constance robed the sting from his infidelity. Now, If these had been affairs with women, I don't think they would have been as easy to accept, his cheating would somehow have been more offensive. Instead of a kind guy having intellectual relationships other men while still valuing his marriage, Wilde would have been transformed into a lecherous middle aged Don Juan with whom we really wouldn't sympathize. So, other then the slightly uncomfortable (lets face it...) concept of gay affairs, it was surprisingly easy to still like Wilde, despite his infidelity.

--It's also interesting to see the result of having a large class of people who do absolutely nothing except figuratively listen at each other's key holes. With a class entirely devoted to "society" and living for scandal, when someone achieves any success or notoriety they are instantly made the object of every malicious rumor. It is interesting to see how even though Wilde is admired and liked, every member of the upperclass suddenly comes gunning for him as soon as he becomes a celebrity. Of course, this isn't really much different then the lurid tabloids you see at the grocery store checkout line, but in Wilde's day it was actually aided and abetted by the government, rather then being simply the pastime of 15 year old girls and middleaged housewives. For instance, the lawsuit that resulted in Wilde's imprisonment, though originally started by Lord Alfred Douglas' (Wilde's lover's) father was continued by the British crown.

And to wrap up, I was impressed with the use of Wilde quotes throughout the movie. It would have been so easy to turn this into a cinematic quote fest with Stephen Fry rattling off Wildean witticism with the speed of a machinegun. They managed to bury the quotes while dreaming up others in the same style as camouflage. The filming was good, nothing spectacular except the scenes when Oscar is in jail, where they used a really sharp contrast and stark blue light which really conveyed the unreality and glaring hopelessness of a Victorian workhouse. Oh yeah, and if I hadn't mentioned it before, Jennifer Ehle was incredible....

(And that's one heck of a nice boater.... Aren't period movies great?...)

Ok, that review got longer then I anticipated, but at the risk of making this post even longer, I decided to tack on a little side article. Read 'em and weep boys and girls. I'm talking about YOU!

So, I was looking back through my back articles on this blog in the hope (vain it turns out) of finding accolades, feedback or comments of any kind. By the time I got back four entries and was still empty handed (more or less...) I decided I would even settle for insults. As far as I'm concerned, reading blogs and not commenting is equivalent to laying around in your trailer house drinking Budweiser all day and living off welfare. So, now that We've (that's we with a capital W, thank you Caesar...) established that you are all welfare whores, I (woops, *We* ) decided to try to come up with some kind of cure to bring you misguided beerbellied layabouts back into the workforce. We basically came up with three solutions:

- Stop writing all together in this blog. The idea here was that you would all start to slowly wither up, dry out and die when cut off from the shot of brilliant awsomness you get from Life. Of course, I rejected this as being both boring and lame.

-Start publishing even more arrogant, inflammatory, rude, annoying, obnoxious and generally subversive articles in the hope that you would be offended enough to be pushed into commenting. This option obviously sounds like much more fun then option one.... (make particular note of the "obnoxious" and especially the "arrogant" requirements....)

-Publish a nastily scathing article about how evil non-commenters are. All in all, this option mixed with option two sounds the most satisfying...

Seriously people, (goes into encyclopedia salesman mode) just think of the incredible value you get from Life! Think of all those priceless adjectives, epithets, quotes and typos you can collect! Not to mention the brilliant and original witticisms you can pick up and store away for future use ("I don't really play guitar, I just use it to pick up girls..")! Anyway, I've decided that this blog will turn into a rehab facility for non-commenting social parasites. Through my noble effort I'll bring all you welfare whores, crack dealers and jailbait back too the straight and narrow, help you turn you lives around, get you off the streets, and become useful and productive members of society.

So consider yourselves warned; there is a social movement spearheaded by do gooders gunning for you! As Oscar Wilde said in An Ideal Husband "30 thousand pouns to charity!? Good Lord, what a lot of harm you must have done!"

Zephyr Delahunt's Simplified Critic Series Issue 2: The movie Critic

2006-03-21T14:10:00.000-08:00

Ok, here is the latest in the Zephyr Delahunt Simplified Critic Series (the first was Zephyr Delahunt's Elements of Style). Here we have the simplified movie plot story board.

A few things to note before you look at The Critic's Cheat Sheet:

-You will notice I didn't put in either Thriller/Horror or Romantic Comedy as genres. This is for several reasons. For Thriller/Horror, it's because they suck and should never be made or seen. For "Romantic Comedy" it's because 1. no one knows what it is, 2. movies labeled "romantic comedy" are invariably like the 2004 presidential election: i.e. a 49% vs 51% split of bad comedy vs. sappy romance (take your pick which percent is which...), and 3. It's not really a genre, just a crappy label for crappy movies. [I was going to make a bad joke here about menapousel house wives, but I restrained myself. Aren't you proud of me?]

-The squares in my Critic's Cheat Sheet are the "must have" plot points. Some variation is allowable within this structure AS LONG AS YOU REMAIN WITHIN THE COLOR CODED GENRE AREAS. Movies that mix and match across color boundries are called "Indie Movies" and generally suck. For instance, mixing frames often results in plots like this: Hero and Damsel meet when hero knocks drink down Damsel's front in comically hilarious fashion, helpless Damsel (with extra large breasts) kidnapped by evil genious, "I need a HERO!!", with the denouement being a dinner party full of subtley veiled sexuel...err...*social* inuendo. Enough said I think. Just stick to the color coded areas.

I don't see why directors make such a huge fuss about storyboarding the plot. All they have to do is pick a color then fill in between my squares with more shots of tits. After this I should get royalties from every movie made since the director is working off my groundbreaking and critical research. If you don't see me in the credits, please contact my attornies.

The Kind Of English Up With Which I Will Not Put

2006-03-19T09:27:00.000-08:00

Ok, I'm finally shamed into posting. You'd think it would have happened earlier since I'm rather vocal about non-posting creeps, but I conveniently forgot that, so my empty blog didn't disturb me at all. Anyway, this hiatus in my posting might also have something to do with the fact that I've been sick as a dog for a week. Seems like someone filled my lungs with sludge and all I can do is lay around coughing it up. Well, that and read about sailing, world cruising, boatbuilding, naval architecture, yacht design and the Forsyte Saga by Galsworthy. No the Forsyte Saga is not about boats, geez, what an uncouth suggestion! I read many different kinds of material as the list above shows.... As you can see, I've been far too busy to post... Anyway, all this reading lately reminded me of some of my pet writing peeves, and since I'm not miserly with my impeccable good taste, I decided to make a list so my humble readers can benefit.
So here it is:

1. "Like" in writing, like the way it's like used colloquially. Come to think of it I also hate it in speech....

2. Your when they mean you're and vica versa. Come on people, just a little spelling goes a long way toward making your writing easy to read... (you're gonna mention "to" vs. "too" here, but I don't really think that impedes understanding, plus I break that rule all the time, so it doesn't count! ;-) )

3. It's and its mixed up.

4. Not condensing all those little annoying words like it, is, am , not etc. It's like hitting speed bumps when someone writes every little word out in full. It's called an apostrophe....

5.Verbose polysylabic words just for the hell of it. This does not make you sound educated and eloquent, It makes you sound pompous and pedantic. Have you ever noticed that it's always the people with questionable credentials who toot their own horns, never the truly competent people?

6. blah blah blah...the fact that... blah blah blah. You'll notice I used this evil phrase earlier, errrm, by way of illustration only... Maybe my loathing for this phrase comes from proof reading way to many academic essays where you see this every other sentence...

7. Elaborate sentence reconstruction so that prepositions are never at the end. As far as I am concerned grammar is there to enhance understanding, and if, by rigidly adhering to some antiquated and arbitrary rule, you make your entire sentence sound stilted, then you should break the rule. Reminds me of a great joke:

A Texan new to Harvard comes up to a frat boy and asks "hey friend, you know where the library's at?". The frat boy looks down his nose at the Texan and replies "At Harvard we never end our sentences with prepositions!". The Texan thinks for a second then says "Ok, you know where the library's at asshole?"

As Churchill said; "That is the kind of English up with which I will not put!"

8. Obscure and excessively specific words. You know, the kind you can almost see the writer finding in Google "word of the day" then deliberately remembering. Yeah it means "primary feather on the right side of the African miniature cakatoo's tail in summer plumage" but it's unpronounceable and no one with any semblance of a life at all knows what it means so why use it...

9. Catch phrases of all denominations, but most especially the touchy feely PC crap. "I can embrace", "celebrate diversity", "not that there's a problem with that but...", "but that's just my opinion", "That's a creative idea" etc. I think they all show 1. a total lack of creativity in that the writer is too lazy to come up with phrasing of their own and 2. a wimpy lack of courage too come out and actually state an opinion, so instead they hide behind socially acceptable catch phrases. But that's just my opinion of course...

10. Random mysticism and general obscurity. I always wonder whether people write in that atmospheric style because they actually have a grasp of the language and it's a deliberate stylistic choice, or whether they really can't say what they mean because of an inadequate command of English and so they hide behind the smokescreen of artsy language. Of course there is also the slight off chance that some people actually like that style..... ;-)

Well there you have it, Zephyr Delahunt's Top 10 writing pet peeves. There are lots more... Man, Strunk & White have nothing on me, They had to write a whole book on style, I don't even need a whole blog entry... ;-)

Anyway, to atone for how fantastically boring and dry this entry was, here are a few of my favorite cartoons:

Wait, maybe they are slightly referent to this article after all.... ;-)

Quarterly Report For Life Ltd.

2006-03-14T20:52:00.000-08:00

Well, the bussiness quarter is wrapping up here at Life is Far Too Important Ltd. and so it's time for the letters to shareholders, stock charts and company audits. Due to recent shareholder complaints we at Life Ltd have decided to make our profit and loss tables, stock charts and CEO's quarterly newsletter avalible to the general public.

First Quarter Profit and Loss breakdown:

-- 43 posts since inception of company (Jan 6, 2006)

-- @ ~700 words per post (on average)
-- = 30,100 words
-- taking aprox. 1 second each for the writer to think of and type
-- = 30,100 secs = 501 2/3 mins. = 8 1/3 hours of typing time spent

--30,100 words taking reader ~ 1/2 second each to read (more to understand, but lets not split hairs...)
-- =15,050 secs =250 mins = 4 1/6 hours

-- approx. 10 regular readers of Life

-- => 10 x 4 1/6 hourse = 40 2/3 hours waste reading Life

Gross Profits: 40 2/3 Hours
Total Losses: 8 1/3 Hours

Net Profit: 32 1/3 Hours

Stock Chart:

President's Message:

Well, here we are wraping up our first quarter at Life Is Far Too Important Ltd. and, as you can see from the profit and loss breakdown above, it has been a huge success! It seems that there is an ever growing demand for our Time Wasting products. This quarter's success is largly bassed upon our backbone product line: Fictional AutoBio (tm) and HomeBrew 'Toons (tm), which continue to be top sellers as well as consistant favorites with focus groups. They have hands down defeated rivals products such as Morbid Whining (tm) and LSD Induced Ramblings (tm) interms of consmer popularity as well as sheer TWU (time wasting units) income. Shares have doubled in price and a stock split is on the near horizon.
I can happily report that since aquiring the WordPress/Electricbagpipes branch and our assumption of chain status, Life has been looking up!

Founder and CEO
Zephyr Delahunt

A Dark and Gothic Tale

2006-03-12T19:56:00.000-08:00

It's that time again isn't it... Time to post so I don't become one of the non-posting parasites like some people I know (atleast I'm not one of the non-commenting creeps). Just to dispel your doubts, this means you!

Aanywaaay. Since I don't really have any particularly interesting updates about my amazing life at the moment, I figured it's time to fall back on the old standby; another 100% (give or take 50%) true account of past events. This is the dark and gothic tale of inattention and hubris (the lights dim, sinister mist and lightening shows on the screen, dramatic organ music in the background...) which resulted in the infamous capsize of Black Dog. For those of you who are shifting guiltily in your chairs right now, don't worry, this will be a sanitized version of the truth, hopefully pulling a decorous veil over culpability [Translation; your author will come out smelling like roses]. And so, my dearly beloved 'earers, on to the story.

Story recorded and translated [tr.] from the original Stuart Island dialect by Zephyr Delahunt.

There wasn't much wind, just a gentle breeze, perfect for testing out the state of the art new engineering department equipment [tr. huge new topsails]. The sails, much anticipated by captain [tr. more ropes and peril! Oh Joy!] and crew [tr. panic? horror? terror?] increased the light air sail area by roughly 15% [tr. obscenely huge]. Guest inspection personnel and crew Jim and Tate Wester [tr. Shanghaied innocent bystanders] drew lots for who was to go as crew. Tate looses [tr. age and cunning win yet again...], and joyfully joins the crew [tr. signs will]. The Black Dog pulls composedly away from the dock under 2/3 power [tr. main and fore]. Once away from the dock and out in the briney deep [tr. Reid harbour] the captain gives the order to increase to full sail. Crew happily complies [tr. incipient mutiny], and after a few moments all sail is raised. Jim, in the Wester's boat (acting as chase boat since Black Dog is temporarily enginless) remarks that the rig looks beautiful [tr. he's not aboard, gloat gloat] and picturesque [tr. large enough to paper the white house]. After sailing around the harbour for an uneventful hour the crew deems that they are now experienced hands [tr. complacent], and nothing can go wrong [tr. .... all literal translations unprintable]. Jim decides, at the urging [tr. demanding] of his son, that he might safely take a shift aboard [tr. much to learn you still have my young padawan...]. Luckily, all probability and karma aside, Jim survives his stint onboard unharmed [tr. the shakes subsided latter that day] and returns to the chase boat. First Mate Yeshe requests [tr. demands] to switch with Tate so that he can "see how good the boat looks" [tr. abandoning ship, one smart fella...]. The mate having absconded, the shellback skipper is left with an entirely green and ungoverned crew [tr. time to start furiously spraying around that rose scented perfume I mentioned....]. After a failed return to dock (foiled by jammed halyard [tr. more rose perfume...] ) the vessel encounters a huge power surge [tr. heavy gust off a nearby mountain]. The crew reacts swiftly to orders [tr. panic]. Unfortunately, the wet-behind-the-ears crew gets on the wrong side of the boat resulting in excessive heeling of the boat [tr. lee gunwale under] and at the same time preventing lowering power [tr. blocks foreboom so it won't sheet out]. And so, amid many curses and death threats by the captain (entirely blameless remember...), the Black Dog succumbs to the inevitable and lays her masts in the water. The boom-jamming crew is tossed overboard [tr. poetic justice] while the skipper beats a dignified retreat [tr. scrambles like a demeted spider] up to the dry side of the boat. The chase boat arrives on the scene to take off survivers, all the while being nastily cheerful [tr. indecent relish]. The humbled and swamped Black Dog is then towed to a nearby dock and bailed out. Naval Architect/Captain Zephyr Delahunt stringently defends his topsail design and command decisions in court. Unfortunately, he is denied an appeal and thanks to the lilly-livered crew the topsails are never agian used [tr. at least the crew learned their lesson]. Luckily, undetered, Capt. Delahunt is now formulating plans to convert Black Dog to a Marconi rig thus taking advantage of a loophole in nomenclature to get his topsails back (for the non nautical reader, marconi sails are essentially gaff sails with tops'ls permanently attached). Updates about the result of this legal ploy will follow.

So there you have it, now you, a people sitting in darkness and shadow, have heard the hushed up and previously undisclosed tale of the humbling of Black Dog. Special reporter for Life Is Too Important Zephyr Delahunt signing off.

To Bad It Never Gets Like This In The San Juans.... ;-)

2006-03-10T16:12:00.000-08:00

Ok mes enfants, here is a seriously amazing video. This was taken on a "shipyard raid" in Sweden. Basically a "raid" is an excuse for a bunch of small boat sailors to get together and go on a long trip, generally between boatyards (hence the name...). The main rule is no engines, so sail and oar only. As you can see, that is not always an imposition.... ;-). Anyway, there is one around here in the fall, from somewhere in Canada to Port Townsend arriving in time for the PT wooden boat festival, maybe the Black Dog will take part this year...
Anyway, about the video. First, it is a 13megabite download, so take care. It's not very long, just really high res. In the video: about 25-30knts of wind it looks like from the waves, all the boats are surfing well beyond hullspeed. Wow, wish I was there.... Also notice how steady the camera is... Good cameraman and a very large chunk of lead in the keel...

Link here

If this doesn't convert you to sailing, well, then you're obviosly a hopless case and should just be burned at the stake right now. Ok, you have one last chance to repent and change your evil ways:

Woah, hydrofoils are unknowably cool...

SchoonerBum discovers "Trace Path"

2006-03-09T19:23:00.000-08:00

Here is a picture I made in Gimp this evening. I discovered the "path trace" feature which allows me to define a splined path and then trace it with the brush/nib/blur/etc. of my choice. Obviously the calligraphy nib was a favorite.... Anyway, wow, I am so artsy. To bad I did this on a computer while laying on the couch instead of sitting crosslleged in a camono using bamboo brushes.... ;-)

Studliest Man Alive Star Mentaly Disturbed? New Facts Come To Light

2006-03-08T19:17:00.001-08:00

Last time Studliest Man Alive star Mr. Zephyr Delahunt was accused of visiting the remote government assylum and mental illness testing facility know as Waldron Island, it launched a celebrity scandal of epic propotions. Now, with new accounts of Waldron visits surfaceing, Time digs into the possible causes for the star's career destroying fascination with Waldron.

Though Mr. Delahunt continues to deny the charges of involvment with Waldron, compelling evidence has come to light concerning long term commitments on the island. These commitments largely center around a supposed boat project, which, according to a senior boatbuilder in Maine certainaly constitues a longterm commitment: "Anyone who claims that wooden boats are a 'hump em' and dump em' ' deal has obviosly never tried building a boat." he stated. Mr. Delahunt's only reply to these charges was to cast snide aspersions on the boat builder's charector: "I can't beleive the media is interested in some old bald codger hobbling around a dirty shop in coveralls, and even harder to believe is that they take such a drunken old gab's opinion seriosly. I mean come on, he's a boat builder..." Eminant Psychologist Place Ebo,M.D., comments that the vindictive nature of these attacks could bode ill for the star's mental well being. "Mr. Delahunt obviosly has problems with commitment if he is interested in wooden boats, as well as an unstable complex I like to call the "throwback" instinct. What I mean is that associating with the wild animals (I know the locals call them domesticated, but lets face it... *smiles*) and the beast-men and burned out hippies that inhabit Waldron clearly shows that Mr. Delahunt is letting his primative side come out. This can result from an overstimulation of the mycoglycomic region, triggered by an emotional blow or shock often associated with a deep and often unknown childhood fear. Also contributing could be an unbalanced hypocalcemic core which results in attention seeking behavior. It's possible that Mr. Delahunt is actually subconciously welcoming and even seeking out this scandal and the media coverage and atteniton it garners." Dr. Ebos' office was contacted early this morning by Mr. Delahunt's lawers who are forwarding a malpractice suite against the psychologist. In a prepared statment the star's spokemen commented that "while we utterly and absolutly deny the allogations, Dr. Ebo's comments about publicity are not entirly unreasonable. You don't have to grow a beard and call yourself Freud to say that publicity is a celebrity's bread and butter."

{SchoonerBumm's Note:}

Now that the lurid tabloid rags have stopped covering the story and it has moved into the mainstream media it has become infinatly less interesting to parody. Atleast the typical scandal cartoons are easy bait. All you have to do is make sure you label all parts of the landscape with things like "media", "public image" etc. That and have the ubiquitus pushing the door shut theme. Next time the Studliest Man Alive story will be in the New Yorker which should be more interesting to hack. As long as the story goes on for 15+ pages in a dry and sincere manner it's a winner. Untill then, so long all!

Some Things Just Shouldn't Be Allowed

2006-03-07T18:15:00.000-08:00

Don't ask... Suffice it to say that this was inspired by an incedent in my travels today. Wow, there are way to many phrases for that guy to be saying...

The True Joy Of Boats

2006-03-05T19:25:00.000-08:00

Ok, here is a cartoon I was working on a while ago, then got to lazy to finish. Well, now I am only marginally less lazy, so it's only half-assed finished. Anyway, I thought now would be an aporopos time to post it since I'm workin on the ol' boat.

Whatever, after that pointless interlude, lets see, what else do I have to say... I finished the sartboard side cabinets and built in a few more storage lockers under the quarter berth. The starboard side is now officially done from stem to stern. Exciting, just trust me. I just have the galley cabinets to build then the interior is finished. Yay.

Ok, nothing more to say really, except to apologise for the lame posts recently. They're all about what I'm up to and they aren't even abusive.... I must be getting soft in my old age. When I get back to civilisation with real internet they'll return to their amazing heights of arrogent...errr...*brilliant* inanity.

Oh yeah, one last thing:

Wow, black Carharts are hot. Of course, for me thats really just gilding on the lilly, but what the hell.

Where You've Been Lately There's A New Kid In Town

2006-03-02T20:05:00.000-08:00

July 4th, 1776-- "Nothing of importance happened today". I hate American history; as hard as I try to forget it, all these horrible brainwave clogging history facts sometimes pop into my head, proving once again that my brain is like my computer harddrive (i.e., it slowly fills up with junk and only the top 10% is actually used). I'm pretty sure that the only cure is a complete data scrub, since it is so much easier to save the info you want then to delete the files you don't. Anyway, that particular useless quote popped up because I am here --on Waldron --on the internet-- and since I have no clue when I will be online again, I feel like I should update the blog, regardless of the fact that "nothing of importance happened today". Actually, thats not entirely true, I finished building the quarter berth and started building the chart table and starboard side cabinets, so I am now officially more then half done with the interior. Just trust me, it's exciting.

*Racks Brain*

Hmm, nothing more to say, and I forgot to bring the camera with boat pictures on it to upload. Damn. Luckily I recently found out that I have been made obsolete. No longer do I have to update this blog to tell the world about my holy message. Someone has kindly distilled the essence of this blog and provided it for readers like you. To find my successor click here.
Unfortunately the authors forgot the part about me pissing and moaning about everything I hate, so apparently I am not completely out of a job......

Expletives

2006-03-01T23:05:00.000-08:00

I decided that maybe just as a change of pace I should try being complimentary about something. Instead of bashing everything in sight, I'd try expounding something's virtues. So here goes:

Ok, that white space is where my exhaustive list of the reasons I am so incredibly awesome used to be, but I decided that cataloging my own virtues didn't really count as being complimentary. Pretty much proves I'm incredibly modest...woops, sorry, I was starting the list again.... So, take two:

Well, as you all know, I've been working on the interior of my boat --which still doesn't have a name, prompting my ungenerous family to barrage it with snide names like the “Queen Marry”, or my “Pandora”. Anyway, I'm making tons of progress mostly due to my new secret weapon, the hot glue gun. Yes indeed, all those hours and hours as a five year making mad creations with hot glue and pop sickle sticks are finally paying off. Basically building the interior of a boat consists solely of making demented shapes out of plywood to fill in strange holes. This is a nightmare if your only tools are a tape measure and luck, but if you use thin battens hot glued together it's a cinch. Here are a bunch of pictures to see the process as well as showing off some of my progress.

These are basically just some framing shots just to give you an idea of whats happening.

Woo, badass joinery thanks to a bevel gauge.

Ok, here is the strange shaped hole that needs to be filled in.

Patterning in place.

Finished pattern.

Cut out piece of plywood. Notice the sweet curve drawn in freehanded .

Bulkhead in place, a perfect fit (as long as you use the 10 foot rule...;-) )

And heres a shot of the bulkhead with it's opposite number also finished. Neither of them are screwed in yet, but you can see what they're gonna look like.

So there you have it folks, patterns rule. As you can see about half the cabin is finished in a matter of speaking (one not usually used in polite society..;-) ). I've been a busy busy man. So, since I am so busy and still have half the cabin to finish, and since I still have a huge bandage on my pinky which makes typing a pain in the ass, I'll leave you all with the pleasant picture of your author hunkered down in his boat listening to music and hacking various bits off his limbs. Just add head bangs and expletives and there you have it.

When The Going Gets Tough.....

2006-02-26T19:54:00.000-08:00

So here I am again on Waldron Island. I'm pretty sure this island has some kind of strange mystical hold over me, since I keep ending up spending time out here... Actually, right now the important hold is that my boat is on island, so I have to keep coming, at least until I can sail far away (the farther the better....). Right now I'm working on the interior, which, as I have ranted about before, is a total nightmare. It's easy to design these interiors, but building them, the actual nuts and bolts, is a much more difficult matter. I feel like Einstein in this picture:
After two days of work my fingers are already scared and bleeding and I have a huge scab on my forehead from a difference of opinion with the corner of a deck beam. The tragic life of a boat builder... I will say though that it is a little difficult typing with a huge bandage on my right pinky, since I cut a slice of the tip off... (actually, it's not quite that glamorous, too bad...).

Anyway, working on the interior reminds me of an expression that I loath and despise, and since I'm sure everyone wants to know about everything I hate, I'm gonna take the chance to expound. The phrase in question is "when the going gets tough, the tough get going". I hate catch phrases like that, seriously, just 'cus it rhymes doesn't make it profound... Every time I see a horribly trite piece of "worldly wisdom" I am reminded that there is a difference between philosophy and bumper stickers. And it's totally hokum anyway. I mean, it should be more like "when the going gets tough, the tough find a way out". At least that would be good advice. The original has all the subtlety and wisdom of a huge brain dead football player simply smashing trough the opposing team throwing players out of his way. This works great until the football player meets a bigger and stronger football player and ends up being carried off the field on a stretcher. Of course, the intelligent front man dodges the other players instead of just knocking them over. Actually, the really intelligent player passes the ball to some other player and lets them get run over by the other team, but unfortunately I don't have that option on the boat. Anyway, back to the boat after that extra long analogy. I am in the position of the dodging player who has to accept that he is going to have to try to knock over some players to make a touchdown. However I try to dodge, designing/building an interior in a boat is a nightmare.

End of mini lecture my Doc Delahunt. Pardon the soapbox.

Speaking of mini lectures, anyone who doesn't recognize that quote should go read Edward Abby's The Monkey Wrench Gang. Now. Apart from being extremely well written (maybe "starkly layered with an edge of humor", no... "a cross between Joseph Conrad and Mark Twain" ...nope, apparently I don't have a future as a reviewer...) it is also a very interesting piece of social/political/life commentary. And it's funny as hell. Oh yeah, and Hayduke is simply the coolest character ever. Except for Yoda... or Stalky....or Lizzy Bennet... and of course there's Golum... Ok Ok, so he's not the coolest character, but he is certainly in the top ten.

She Thinks That Happiness Is A Map That Sits On Her Doorway

2006-02-23T20:41:00.000-08:00

I got a call from a friend this morning who got just got dumped by her boyfriend. She needed the proverbial shoulder to cry on, so I went and met her at a coffee house on campus. Have you ever been in a situation like that? If you have, you know how difficult it is... This case was especially strange, because she was about to dump this guy anyway (he was a total schmuck). All her friends had been telling her to just do it for a while now, but she hadn't gotten up the nerve/courage/whatever. Anyway, given this I totally didn't expect her to have any problems when the deal fell apart. Apparently though the ego strike or whatever of him ditching her was somewhat emotional for her... (women...) Anyway, while I was inwardly marveling at how insane females are I had to comfort her and tell her that it wasn't her fault, etc etc, while studiously avoiding saying things like "yeah well, he was a total ass anyway... Snap out of it" So, a mildly stressful hour and several strong espressos later (she called at 8:00 and I was already up, so I needed the caffeine anyway...) she was back on balance. Seriously, girls are crazy. An hour before she was flipping out over something a guy really wouldn't have given a second thought under the circumstances (the guy would probly be relieved...), and then after some kind words she's laughing about the whole thing... geez... Ah well, she's awesome even if she is a crazy female ;-).

Wow, I can't believe this is getting through my rigorous censoring service. It commits the compound sins of being serious, relevant to my life, somewhat emotional, and having an only semi relevant song quote as a title (Yeshe and Sophie are bad influences...;-) ). I'm gonna have to fire my writer. Just to atone, here is my latest jihad:

Graphical smilies. Seriously, they are so awful. I acknowledge the need for emotes, particularly for IM, but do they have to be so gruesomely cute? I think that the ASCII characters actually look pretty cool (if nothing else they have some character...) and are just ambiguous enough to make life interesting, so why convert them into something as utterly lame as AIM's corny emotes? And I love how they give translations in the menu. If you can't figure these out without the translations you shouldn't be allowed out alone... The only sweet emote I know of is this gif:

Seriously, does it get any cooler then that? I'm still not entirely sure whether that guy is high, or confused, or.... Any number of explanations, but I am sure it rocks. Anyway, my plan is to come up with a handful of sweet ASCII emotes that don't get converted to graphics, so I can continue to wink after every AIM message, but avoid being disgustingly cute.

Wow, I'm pretty sure that is the most random post to ever make it past the "publish" button on this blog. Ah well, is it writers block stopping my obnoxious smartass muse, or the mental taxation of actually having a life (however fleeting).... Hard to tell... Actually it's not, we'll just see how soon I recover and start posting inane stories again. If a cocaine addicted lab rat could crack better jokes, then you'll know I'm back to normal. Wait, I think I just proved this post's lameness was due to the momentary intrusion of a life.... woops, I didn't mean too.....

Orbis Unum

2006-02-20T17:33:00.000-08:00

So, Tristan has an obsession with some Canadian bimbo pop singer (Avril Lavigne) recently. Her single My Happy Ending is quite possibly the catchiest song ever written. In fact, it is so catchy that I'm pretty sure it's part of a plot to take over the world. You know how in all those cartoons the evil dictator (Fearless Leader) is plotting to take over the world using some nefarious device? Well, this gave me an idea, and now I'm almost certain that there is a sisterhood of slutty pop singers who are secretly working toward world domination using bad pop songs to ensnare the population's collective psyche. Trust me, you need protective earbuds to withstand the power of these catchy songs. And the worst part is, as a general rule the slutty stars can't even sing. Apparently all you need is a body that looks like an anorexic stick insect with silicon implants and a professional song writer (I think the composers are all TV commercial jingle writers gone over to the dark side...). Anyway, these songs are fatal to anyone with half a brain or less --luckily your author has not been labotomised yet, so it only caused minor paralysis -- so watch yourself....

This reminds me, Yeshe saw an article yesterday about a new Rolling Stones tour. Oh my God, seriously people, what is this, their 500th farewell tour? How gullible can you be..... Personally I don't see the appeal in watching a bunch of pot bellied and wattled old septuagenarians try to rock it hard. Seriously, instead of strutting around stage humping his microphone, you have Mick Jagger waddling around wobbling his dewlap. Gross. And he could't even sing to begin with. "I can't get noo, satisfactioon"-- no shit you wattled old crackfiend....

Anyway, my $.02, after all, I had to reinstate my reputation for bashing everything in my path....

The Venerable Tom-Bomb

2006-02-19T15:02:00.000-08:00

Looking back through my recent posts I realized that they are all way too serious; not only do they have no cheap one liners, but they actually are referent to my life right now. Inexcusable. So, I decided that I had to remedy this situation with another fictional AutoBio entry (it's all true I tell you!! all true!). Time for another "degradingly" silly story (incidentally Yeshe, "degrading" is normally called "self deprecating", it's a way of showing that you are so fantastically awesome that you can even laugh at yourself and still be amazingly studly ;-) ). Anyway, here is the saga of the Venerable Tom-Bomb.

When Yeshe and I, young, carefree and innocent, first launched Black Dog we equipped her with an old outboard that a friend gave us for free (first red flag). The motor wasn't currently running (second red flag), but we, as I said, were carefree and innocent, so we hauled it home and started surgery. The engine turned out to be a Tomos brand, manufactured in Yugoslavia (third red flag) about 30 years before (fourth extremely large red flag). So, after pushing all those annoying red flags out of our eyes, we got to work and the beast was running within a few days. Boy it ran beautifully (just a decorous amount of smoke), started up on the first pull (after a stiff shot of white gas in the carburetor), and even turned off (well, the kill switch didn't really work, but the sparkplug wire came off nicely). Oh, and it didn't turn or have reverse, but we had a rudder and figured we would just glide into the dock with perfect timing. Nothing to worry about... Anyway, toasting our success, we installed the engine and ran it on the boat for two eventful seasons. The engine (fondly renamed the Tom-Bomb for obvious reasons) provided us with many memorable moments. It also had a host of endearing habits; automatically varying the throttle to impossibly high revs at the most inopportune moments (we called it an automatic, a feature...), its habit of wiggling the fuel pump seal loose resulting in no power (memorably patched in the middle of Haro Strait with a letter I had in my pocket), and its utter hatred of people (if you got close, a bombardment of bolts and streams of grease was sure to result). Of course, being built in Yugoslavia in the Paleolithic age meant that parts were basically impossible to find. Naturally therefore, while the Tom-Bomb was distracting you with a barrage of bolts to the head, it was inevitably surreptitiously unscrewing and chucking overboard various metric threaded, rare and critical parts. Tom-Bomb was a reliable beast though. Yes indeed, you could rely on taking 20 minutes to get it started, having it cough in protest all the way and end the journey with the stern of the boat and the crew covered in grease and the diluted oil the thing drank for fuel. As a rule it ran when it was necessary; instead of dyeing in the middle of Boundry Pass, 3 miles from land, with darkness approaching, it preferred the sweet agony of sputtering to a stop a quarter mile from the mooring in total darkness. I guess it thought it was good healthy exercise to paddle home in pitch dark and pouring rain... It also particularly enjoyed acting up when there was company aboard, I suppose on the principle that this was the best time to make the skipper look like a fool.
Ahhh, brings back so many sweet memories..... I could go on, but instead I'll just tell you the tale of the demise of our faithful engine.

It was the first voyage of the season, merely down Reid Harbour to tie up to a friends dock to finish rigging. After finishing, Yeshe and I blithely started up to head home. And that's when the Tom-Bomb truly earned its name, because it totally exploded. Well, nothing that glamorous actually, just that the whole stupid engine caught fire. Turns out that unbeknownst to us, the whole trip to the dock the engine had been spitting atomized gas out the wrong end of the carburetor to puddle up in the housing. Apparently ol' Tom had had enough of us and was bent on fiery suicide (I bet that Vietnamese monk made an impression on him, since they were from the same generation...). Anyway, when we started up Tom struck the match by removing its sparkplug wire and landing it in the puddle of gas..... Enough said.... So, we calmly removed the 3 gallon gas can from the engine, and whipped out the fire extinguisher. No need to panic, we were well equipped. Except the extinguisher turned out to be an impotent sexagenarian and only let out a flacid *wiffff* ..... Ok, time to panic. Well, we tried to smother the blaze, but unfortunately Tom was aircooled (water cooling not having been invented in the Paleolithic age apparently). This meant that the engine housing had deliberate air vents in it.... Anyway, to make a long story short, we were forced to smother our sailorly pride and shout for a fire extinguisher from a nearby boat.

So we, without much regret, retired the venerable Tom-Bomb. Now we have a quite, reliable (in the right way) little Nissan, and now that the mental trauma, exhaust burns and high velocity bolt bruises have faded, we look fondly back on the days of the Tomos. Actually we look back and wonder why we never died, either from being ditched enginless in the middle of Haro Strait, from the heart attacks caused by Tom's antics, or from the explosion in the finalee. Now we aren't so carefree and innocent, so we appreciate more and more our reliably functional Nissan, but nevertheless, let this story stand as a lasting memorial and epitaph to ol' Tom the Tomos.

"Workin', Yeah, You Heard That Right..."

2006-02-16T19:49:00.000-08:00

Well, I managed to convince the producers not to substitute catfood and deodorant adds for me (all practical reasons aside...), atleast for a few more shows. So, what have I been up to? Well, arrainging logistics for the next nine months, reading, CAD work; in short, life. My IM away message recently ("workin'...yeah, you heard that right...") has drawn so many snide and disbelieving remarks that I decided to put up a few pics of a boat design I'm working on in CAD as a kind of silent testimony to my productivity. This is just one of the designs I've been messing with (he says defensively...) and the hull still needs lots more work. Also, as you can see, the cabin isn't designed yet, but I just got a plugin that should make that a lot easier.

This is a 22' daysailor design. Daysailors are fun to mess around with because as a designer you have to make so few compromises. Instead of a cruiser where you have to think of comfort, speed, ultimate seaworthiness, stowage capacity, accommodations,blah blah blah, with good looks coming very late on the list, in a daysailor you really only have three requirments: speed, beauty and even more speed . This really frees you up since so many of the cruiser's requirements are exact opposites of each other. For instance, accommodations mean headroom in the cabin which means high topsides; unfortunately, high topsides also generally means butt ugly... With daysailors since you only have to really think about speed and beauty, which mostly go together, you have a free hand. Here is another idea to fill the same requirements as the above design. This canoe type hull would have a fin keel, although I haven't developed it as you can see...

This would be the faster boat of the two, and would be quite good looking, but much more uncomfortable in a chop. Anyway, now that I look at it these pictures didn't come out that well, atleast, not compared to the 3D model on the screen. Ah well, you'll just have to tough it out, think of it as good practice for your spacial intelligence and visualization.

So there you have it folks. See? I have been doing something...

Oh yeah, and here's an article I found today which should interest you.

If You Aren't Familiar With Waldron, Don't Ask....

2006-02-14T21:41:00.000-08:00

Funny, I always thought the nature conservancy was a piece of land... After seeing some Waldronites though I am inclined to believe the Waldron Island Nature Conservancy Handbook...

Google Omnipotent (or not....)

2006-02-14T13:40:00.000-08:00

Apropos of nothing at all, is it just me or is Google weather some kind of sick joke? Today for instance, a beautiful, clear, mild, sunny day. Wait, what!?? In Western Washington in February!?? Yeah, well, improbable as it may seem, it's true. Anyway, Google weather, in its infinite wisdom projects this icon.... Seriously, "partly cloudy with snow showers"!?! Is it possible to be more wrong? Even predicting thunderstorms would be more probable. They also predict wind 18mph, which is 15 or so knots, which is a solid breeze. No such luck Google my good ol' pal... An epileptic monkey with a weather map could come up with a better prediction then this. Now that I think of it, the monkey could come up with a better joke to, so either way you look at it Google fails. Google Weather has now joined the encyclopedic list of programs I bitch continually about, along with other illustrious names like Lastfm, iTunes, Wordpress' Blogspot importer, errrr.... Windows.... ;)

I'm Not Crazy, I'm Just A Little Unwell

2006-02-13T15:05:00.000-08:00

Bad cold. Bad migrains. Bad temper. *Snarlllll*, keep back. Thats pretty much been the story of my life lately (actually, ever since I got back from Adventuress). A nasty cold on top of the post great-boat-week withdrawal syndrome. Oh my god, was that really a few sentences about my feelings (ichhhh...)!??! You can tell I'm sick.... Starting to sound like "one of those soft and squishy, lovey dovey emotional types" Anyway, I decided to let my bad humor and short temper help me on the way to writing an incredibly obnoxious post. Kinda like surfing, just ride the wave. Being sick and grouchy makes me glad yet again that I'm not female..... Sorry, the mobile potshot division couldn't resist....

"Most people would rather be certain they are miserable then risk being happy"

So, I was reading through a bunch of blogs, and I noticed that people really are morbidly fascinated with being fucked up. Is this just a recent craze or what? It reminds me of the 19th century fad among upperclass women to have "nervous complaints". They were all imaginary of course, or atleast they started that way, but after telling yourself for long enough that you are screwed up or sick, you actually become so. Incidentally, anyone who hasn't read The Yellow Wallpaper should. It's a great essay/short story about this, sorry I can't remember the author... Anyway, Here's a couple random blog excerpts for you angsty agoniser types to show you the error of your evil ways:

"I could never understand why i was even born. there's no use of me to the world. everyone hates me(including myself). if it's not one thing i do wrong then it's everything. i'm just so sick of my life. there's absolutely no use of me to the world. so...why the effort? everyone has two faces. we have an inner fight with ourselves and sometimes our worse side gets the upper-hang. well, in my case, i'm too weak to hold the fucked up side of me down. so i live with no personality at all. i never stand up for myself and always complain about my life and everything else...i just can't see the bright side of anything. it so depressing. i'd like myself to die, but actually i know that i'm just too scared of it. i want to live just to see what will happen next...even if i find it useless... i'm just a dead angel living on the surface..."

Seriosly... I mean, of course you are going to end up fucked up if you insist on examining every little thing you do wrong minutely and brooding on it! I know there are some real mental cases out there who really are clinical depressed, but the rest are just stupid teenagers who think rambling endlessly about their fragile emotions gives them street cred. Not only that, but it seems to me that the more esoteric and nebulas the articles are the more street cred you get. It seems like if you actually come down and make a definite and clear pronouncement about how and why you are fucked up it doesn't count. The ultimate extension of this is writing bad poetry. This reminds me of emo which reminds me of this (21 min video, so for Waldron, download at your peril...) and also of this excerpt from the wikipedia article on emo:

"As the lyrical content shifted and as the sound [emo punk rock] began to enter the mainstream, the term "emo" started to be used more often to describe what was perceived by those outside the scene as the overwrought melodrama of the music. Popular comments such as "don't be so emo" and "cheer up, emo kid" drove home the belief among deriders that fans of emo music took themselves too seriously and were simply looking for drama where it didn't exist."

(ok, I admit, I added the bold...)

Frankly I don't understand the fascination with making yourself miserable, even if being histrionic makes you sound deep and philosophical. Geez, get over yourself, you aren't the first teenager to have to contend with the I-just-realized-I'm-supposed-to-be-a-grownup phase.

On an entirely different note, although still about crazy people, why do people insist on coming up with politicly correct titles for "stupid"? I mean seriously, why glorify a shovel by calling it a Manually Powered Entrenching Tool. It doesn't make it any less dirty or any more effective. So why call stupidity "learning disabilities"... Not Sure why I went off on that tangent, but, well, this is a blog and I can write whatever I want, whahha.

Anyway, sorry about this post; it's not bad so much because it rags on silly stuff (entirly normal), but it isn't even that coherent (I like to think thats abnormal...)..... Ah well, for us arm chair psychiatrists, that's ok. I still apologize though...

*Screeeeeeeeeeech* (you know, that tape stopping sound...) The playback stops.
"Wait, what the heck was that; apologizing!?!"
"yeah, and he talked about his feelings earlier, I think he's losing his touch"
"Ok, screw this guy's stupid show, lets cut and get back to the commercials selling deodorant and catfood"
"yeah, atleast they have catchy jingles...."
"uh huh, and the ratings are better for the catfood and deodorant then for this lame program..."

Ah well, there goes my career, guess it's all hopeless. Maybe I should just ramble enigmaticly about how screwed up I am. Well I would, if only I could get up the energy... I'm just sooo tiiired....... theres just no poiiiint.....

*smirk*

And just for Yeshe's benefit, note that the title is a sweet song quote and relates to the entry....

Sweet 'Toons On RBTV (Really Bad TV)

2006-02-11T23:33:00.000-08:00

Since I'm too lame/lazy to write a real post today I'll just post this cartoon (I'm even to lame to make a real 'toon). Actually the truth is that I was writing a really emotional revealing entry but I had to take a break to gather up my scattered psyche and I just haven't found the inspiration or courage to continue even though I know these powerful feelings are better out then in...
See? That kind of emotional angst laden mindfuck dribble isn't hard to fabricate, I could go on like that all night! (but it's tough on my suspenders!) *evil cackle* I once had a friend tell me she thought I liked to shock people... Who me?!?

Anyway, here's the 'toon about building Black Dog with my little brother (little....) Yeshe. It's a wonder that boat ever ended up floating...

I just realized that I didn't specify which of us is saying what, or rather, which of is speaking English and which has constrained himself to monosyllables. Actually, maybe it's funnier that way....

I Is Salty, I Is I Ar' / And When I Spits, I Spits Tar

2006-02-10T17:34:00.000-08:00

Is there anything more salty and glamorous then a tall ship under sail?? You feel like you flossed your teeth with oakum and brushed with tar, oh yeah, and linseed oil as cologne. Unfortunate, there is nothing even remotely salty and romantic about old wooden boat maintenace, as I was reminded over the past three days.... In fact, working on an old wooden boat makes you feel like you flossed with Fiberglas , brushed with 3M 5200 and used a dusting of hydraulic oil as perfume. So, for my diehard fans who have been complaining about my absence, no I haven't died, I was on Adventuress getting covered in grung and goops and touching up the patina on my Carharts (I suppose that counts as "making sweet love to colossal sailboats".... Alden... ;) ). I'm just gonna take a moment here to plug Adventuress and Sound Experience and give a brief (I promise...) overview of what's goin' on on the boat this winter (like any of you care I know, but to bad). Basically these pics tell it all.... for more info, check out the Starboard Side Project on Sound Experience's site.

As you can see, half the planking is ripped off the starboard side so we can replace frames and some planks. That's a BIG hole in a 100' ship....

here's what even well cared for wooden frames look like after a hundred years.... We're replacing with Purple Heart (a tropical booga booga wood...) which is basically impervious to rot (also hard as hell, beautiful, and mindboglingly difficult to work...) . You can see it in the pic, it's the frame that looks nice and new...

I walked out of this pic about 5 secs before it was taken. (I can't stand publicity, you'd think a Caleb like me would get used to it, but no...) Anyway, I almost finished redesigning and building the captain's cabin (the cabin in this picture) the next morning. The hole in the bottom right corner is the watertank inspection port I was replacing.

unfortunately, Sound Experience is still $50k short for finishing the project, so the 2006 sailing season is purely notional day dreams at this point, unless one of my readers has a spare 50k....
It'll be OK, we've got a few millionaires on the line, and one is seriously considering...

Anyway, so I replaced three inspection ports (one in the greywater tank, groooooose....), rebuilt the captains cabin and re packed the stuffing box ( for you non nautical types, that's the place where the engine shaft goes through the hull, the stuffing box keeps the nasty water out of the nice boat). Now is a good time to try to give you a good idea of what working in the bilge of a boat is like. So, can you envision a contortionist monkey jammed in a space about the size of a sink? Ok, now give the monkey a flashlight, pipe wrench, hammer, knife, etc. Now, throw in a few random 4x4 beams, a couple of 6x8 floor timbers, some generic piping, and the piece of machinery (huge of course...) the monkey is working on. Starting to sound a little crowded? Yeah well add another monkey with another flashlight, hammer etc then talk to me. Oh yeah, and it wasn't two tiny little spider monkeys, it was me and my friend Indu (two medium sized adults...). And we were down there for a day and a half... Just add the pleasant blue expletive haze, bilge water, and chemicals and you get the real deal.

Just to clarify, I absolutely love working on boats, so if this didn't sound very enthusiastic, well, I just got back and haven't blocked out the traumatic scenes yet; the critical bolt falling into the half full greywater tank (yes I went fishing...), half a day lining up the prop shaft (remember the monkeys...), the list goes on, as some psychoanalyst (ya know? I really like that word a lot better with a space in the middle... ;) )will someday discover I'm sure....
Anyway, I prefer to dwell on the great memories; twisted up in the bilge laughing with Indu after she spent three minutes looking for her flashlight when it was right under her cheek (that's what happens when you've been in the bilge to long...), the satisfaction of seeing the beautiful new captain's cabin coming off your design paper and into the boat, and the sense of victory when Indu and I emerged from the bilge covered in beeswax and grease with the stuffing box finally repacked (14 hours, 1276 wedges jacks and jimmies, 26,590 smashed fingers and 23,987,987 swear words later). Those are the moments that make it all worth while, well, that and the oakum floss and tar toothpaste.....

Possession

2006-02-06T00:03:00.000-08:00

I just realized that I forgot to mention what a great movie Possession is so that poor baby Yeshe can have his entry to shit on. I know Y's chauvinist ideas about movies mean that any movie without silicon breasted bimbos, monsters, explosions and best of all, exploding monsters is a total waste of time, but for those of us with slightly more taste than NASCAR rednecks, Possession is great. It boasts excellent filming, some really nice directing, a bunch of great one liners and the ever impeccable Jennifer Ehle. Ok, maybe the story about mad Poetry-Scholar-Detectives is a little, shall we say, improbable, but then again, an entirely real life plot would be entirely boring... Yes I know the movie is only rated PG-13, but it's still good. Incidentally, have you noticed how silly film ratings are? I mean, rated up for "quirky situations" !??!, How about "Creature Violence"?? My all time favorite though is "Thematic Elements". Yeah, plot can be a dangerous thing, you wouldn't want anyone under 13 to see that, God forbid, they might be introduced to something as dangerous as an idea to bother their pretty little heads.... Anyway, back to Possession. A thoroughly enjoyable flick with great overall quality. Not to mention that it has four S's in the title, which is pretty cool....
There you have it Yeshe, hope you feel fulfilled. Do your worst..... Good Luck!

Chapter 7

2006-02-05T21:45:00.000-08:00

A few days ago I was chatting with Alden and he said I should write a novel. "Oh really? About what?" asked your bemused author. Well, his suggestion was an autobiography...... a fictional autobiography..... (I thought this was an oxymoron until I remembered all those politician and celebrity "autobiographies"...) Alden proposed this right after reading one of my more preposterous posts about past adventures, so my finely tuned sarcasm sensors were deafening me with their clanging. Regardless, I decided to blithely take his comment as approval of my retouched histories (only slightly retouched I promise....). Anyway, the meat of the matter (yes this is me saying I could spin this out for a lot longer... thanks are in order you ritalin freaks) is that I have decided to put in another autobiographical entry with the happy assumption that I have official approval from on high. Incidentally, yes, you can consider that statement a calibration test for your sarcasm sensors.....

Anywaaaay, I know you have been waiting with bated breath, so, at long last, the glorious tale of my adventures in New York City last spring. I'll try to keep this PG-13, so if I start describing the hookers, cocaine and bar fights, slap me (hmmm, maybe this won't be such a long post after all...;) ). So, landed at beautiful Laguardia airport (We are preparing to land, please fasten your seatbelts and extinguish your hopes. Kindly give back the stewardess' pantyhose and return her to an upright position. Thank you for flying shitty airlines, we hope you enjoyed your trip, now lets all pray that the tires don't blow out as we land....). Well, maybe that's not exactly what it was like (What? You guessed? Yes, ya' very smart, now shut up.). So, what was your modest author supposed to do now? To many places to see and things to do; the Metropolitan (I'd never really thought of hieroglyphics as art, but they are, and very cool art to), Broadway (glitzzz central), the waterfront (not so glitzzzz...), Central Park (very pleasant, and surprisingly few drunken bums), the school I was supposed to be visiting (not for me after all...)....... The list goes on. The high point for me was seeing the Peking, even though it is in dry dock. If you don't know about the Peking, watch Around Cape Horn, this movie will amaze you, scare the shit out of you, and either turn you off sailing for life or make you fall in love... Seeing this incredible boat chained and rusting in permanent drydock was sad (damn billionars and their mega yachts....).

Ironically, I just realized that I have more to say about somewhere I didn't visit in New York then the places I did. Prepare for Schoonerbumm to turn his formidable wit and impeccable good taste on yet another annoying and pretentious thing in life. So, about three blocks or so away from the Metropolitan is the Museum of Modern Art. Yeah I know ragging on modern art is like shooting fish in a barrel, but I need a day off.... Anyway, I gave the museum a miss as you can well imagine. I saw in their brochure that they had Collages of Smashed Cockroaches, Finger Painting By The Upper Manhattan Lesbian Paraplegic Society, Interpretive Visions Of Toothpicks or some such nonsense on display and couldn't summon up the courage to brave a visit. Honestly though, why do people insist on taking that crap seriously? The funny thing is that my brilliant satirical gallery names are not at all unreasonable (*crack* That was my arm breaking, apparently you aren't designed to be able to pat yourself on the back....). Anyway, I found some modern art cartoons for you, so you can actually get something worthwhile out of this post:

Not only do people take modern art seriously, they keep paying huge amounts of cashola for the bogus junk....

Anyway, this kind of self satisfied crap reminds me of another thing I hate: free verse poetry. Luckily I was not subjected to that in New York, so it will have to wait for a different post if I want to retain any vestiges if cohesiveness in this entry. Just remind me to bitch about it OK?

So, for my last parting salute to Beautiful New York City I will note that according to my extensive scientific research and field work I have determined that New York is entirely populated by poor Hispanics and fat black hookers.

Hmm, reading back through this entry makes it look like a sad string of premeditated and pitiful one liners feebly glued together by a poor excuse for a plot. Well, as Groucho Marx said "You can't expect all the jokes to be good, you gotta be ready for this now and again!". So ends Chapter 7 in the Mostly Fictional Autobiography of SchoonerBumm. How about Apocryphal Tales From The Adventures Of A Man-God for a working title? Or maybe I'm Too Brilliant For My Head, or how about.............

Pleasure, Booze And Treasure

2006-02-04T20:12:00.000-08:00

For those of you not in on the manliness debate (count yourselves lucky...), this post will make even less sense then organic chemistry, so I suggest you skip it and move on to the next article. On second thoughts, maybe the same applies to the whole blog and you would be better off with the chem textbook....
Anyway, Teddy Roosevelt not manly!?!? What kind of nonsense is that? I mean come on, the man shot elephants! Does it get any more testosterone loaded then destroying something far bigger and more worthwhile then yourself and then having your picture taken infront of it to show off how macho you are?!? Bah, it may be the rage now to claim that men should be enlightened and able to whip up a nice souffle, but secretly it's still manly to go swanning off to Africa to shoot large animals for no reason (argh! A raging cloud of rabid feminists has descended on me!). Oh yeah, and stealing a large part of Central America is pretty studly too...

Whatever, this post was really all by way of an excuse to post this awesome picture I found. Now that I think about it, pirates are pretty manly...

Really, this post was going to be longer, but I'm busy trying to save myself from the raging feminists who seem to take exception to my pronouncement about souffle. Geez, that one went down like a lead balloon....stop looking for reasons to be offended and grab a sense of humor...

250 Ton Marble Hot Tub!?!?

2006-02-01T20:51:00.000-08:00

Well, after making the front page of People Magazine there really isn't much farther to go is there? I've reached the pinnacle of fame and may as well quit while I'm ahead, before I get dragged down by insider trading scandals and ending up jailed for tax evasion. Anyway, on to the post, fasten your seatbelts for a stupid rant which I am willing to bet none of you care about. Ah well, see if that stops me...

So, I was reading an old boating mag the other day which had a survey of the top 100 largest motor yachts in the world. Three of the top twenty are owned by our very own Mr. Gates, and #1, the Octopus, coming in at an incredible 414' is owned by Paul Allen. Now, If you ask me (I'll just assume you have, how about that?), this is pretty sick. First of all, from a sailors point of view, a motor yacht that big is just stupid, I mean, it's so big you can't even tell you're on a boat! And owning one is bad enough, but to own three of the twenty largest yachts in the world?!? I just don't understand why you would spend that much dough on three huge ugly and stupid boats ("Shrek thinks he's compensating for something which I think means...."). Luckily, with my infinite wisdom and good taste, I have come up with a better idea for these egotistical billionares: if they want a massive yacht to lavish money on and show how rich they are, why don't the build a huge square rigger, maybe a Clipper Ship? For those of you unacquainted with Clipper Ships, they were extremely fast 3-4 masted full rigged (i.e. square rigged) ships built for the tea trade. Here is a pic of a late generation clipper:

Seriously, who can resist the magic of a ship like that?? (eh? what was that? Shut up stupid land bound nay sayers!) Instead of being on a motor yacht so big you can't even tell you're at sea, you could be on a clipper romping downwind on the trades, the whole ship alive! ........ *slap*, back to reality..... OK, as far as the billionare is concerned, it would suite his needs nicely. After all, these suckers are typically between 200' and 400', trust me, you can get some luxury accommodations in a ship this size. You could even fit in the 250 ton marble hot tub that is the center piece of the Octopus or the 59' dining table which is the pride of yacht #7 ( the Lady Moura). And, as far as compensating for something goes, I would think that a boat with four 200' tall phallic masts should do it... Right.... Moving along... There are even more reasons for a clipper. There is not a single operational Clipper in the world, so in terms of posterity value that's a lot better then some ugly tub no one cares about... And, for the American Billionares there is yet another hook; the clipper is an incredibly American boat, the design was perfected by Americans and the American Clippers vastly contributed to making America a real first world country. The list goes on....

Unfortunately, I have neither a billion dollars nor Bill Gates' ear.........

Studliest Man Alive Star Implicated In Newest Celeb Scandel

2006-01-30T21:35:00.000-08:00

Exclusive Paparazzi photos leaked today have brought on a Celeb scandel of epic perportions to start off the new week. The photos show teen idol Mr. Zephyr Delahunt visiting the deserted assylum known as Waldron Island. The "alternative living community" as residents describe it is actually a secret government assylum and mental illness testing facility. What Mr. Delahunt was doing at the commune is a matter for speculation and puts the crowning touch on a month already fraught with celebrity scandels. Rumor has it that photos were taken showing the Studliest Man Alive star sporting a pink fluffy hat and bright pink 70's tie. Mr. Delahunt's lawyers took swift action last night to prevent publication of these revealing snapshots. The star's spoksmen were unavaliable for comment last night, although Mr. Delahunt was reached at his Bellingham mansion late this evneing. While not entirely dismissing the rumours, he was scornful: "Waldron is a muddy loony bin, with slow internet and almost no girls, why would anyone go there?" the star quipped. "Mr. Delahunt's visit to Waldron could result in the nulification of his lucrative contract as the lead in Studliest Man Alive since the contract has what is know as a 'sanity clause' written in." an informent, who wished to remain anonomuse, said yesterday. The effect of the visit on the star's career remains to be seen. Mr. Delahunt's lawyers were quick to point out that the photos were still unconfirmed, and advised the press to use caution considering, in their words; "given what is possible with programs like Gimp and PhotoShop nowdays it is risky to take photos at face value." The day closed leaving Mr. Delahunt's career uncertain although he said his lawyers are "considering what legal action to take against the fabricators of these photos."

The Marlboro Man Was Gay... (Apperently...)

2006-01-24T22:20:00.000-08:00

So I just got back from seeing Brokeback Mountain. What a horribly depressing movie. Good though, some good filming and great landscapes. And Heath Ledger actualy managed to act, which was a pleasent surprise. I am too tired right now to give any brilliant and scintillating commentary on the movie, but I have to give atleast a minature plot summery. Basically the story is about two cowboys in 1963 Wyoming who discover they are gay (while on a sheep herding expedition...) and fall in love. Then, since gayness is not tolerated in Wyoming they both mary women, start families and the rest of the story is about them trying to figure their lives out. Actually, the film makes you admire the balls of the wives, who have the grit to keep going even though they know what is going on, more than horrible dilema that the gay guys are in. All in all it's a thought provoking look at the prejudices on our society, with some really nice filming behind it. Damn, I hate it when movies are thought provoking, I so much prefer to simply escape into the film for two hours and walk out with pleasent memories. All this thinking about your world stuff is way over rated (for my readers who have already proven they are still in the caveman phase of humor, that was sarcasm...).
Cheers all, I'm off to bed.

Waldronball

2006-01-23T18:20:00.000-08:00

Yes I missed a day, and yes I know I am a slacker. But I figure that I have enough excess verbiage in the bank to allow me to miss a few post. Anyway, I beat the rest of you hollow interms of consistancy so stop bitching!

So, for lack of anything better to talk about and because I just read T's blog and decided that the inflamatory post score needed to be evened up, I decided to air my charectorization of Waldron Island. So here goes, I think Wladron is exactly like Calvinball.

And trust me, that is not an entirly complimentory statment, even though Calvinball is certifiably badass. Seriously though, what do Waldron and Calvinball have in common you ask? Well luckely for you you are about to become enlightened. So first, the entire premis of Calvin ball is that it makes no sense to anyone outside Calvin's world. The parralel is obvious. Second, there are zillions of weird and demented rules/taboos/protocals that are constantly changing. Not only that but the rules make basically no sense to anyone unfamilier with the community (I was going to say to anyone with any grounding in reality but I refrained, damn I am so PC and thoughtful...). And yet another similarity: the consiquences for rule breaking, while appearing entirly silly in the eyes of anyone normal , are actually quite dire within the world of the game/island. Oh yeah and one last thing, which I think is the clincher: you can't hope to win Calvinball without entirly embracing the demented spirit of the game, burying any ideas you had about rules/gameplay from any normal games and generally lowering/raising (whatever...) yourself to the level of Calvinball. Now that said, Waldron being like Calvinball is not entirly bad. After all, there are a few great things about Calvinball, to wit (ha! what a stupid phrase, but I had to use it anyway, it's just that cool): Calvin and Hobbs are totaly unabashed about looking like fools in the eyes of the rest of the world, which is a commendable attitude, also, they are doing what they enjoy and writing the music they dance to, which is also excellent. Unfortunatly we are still left with the undeniable fact that everyone on Waldron is certifiably insane and demented, whether they are dancing to their own music or not...

So, to make up for the lameness of this post and so those of you who arn't familier with Waldron will have something to enjoy, I am going to attach this awsome gif.

I mean seriously, does it get any better then that??

Black Dog Cruise Lines

2006-01-21T18:07:00.000-08:00

So, now that I have gotten over my horrible blue funk and the fits of rejection resulting from the cold reception of my last past, I am back, bigger, badder (yes I know thats bad grammer, shut up) and more obnoxious then ever. After much consideration I eventually settled on the wondrous saga of the Black Dog's adventure to Cyprus Island as my triumphant comeback post. If you are a comedy hater, like posts that agonise about world problems and/or prefer to wallow in angst, now is probly a good time to turn around, click the "back" button on your browser and go read some Kafka, or maybe some Gothic literature. If, on the other hand, you are a normal person, in possesion of a sense of humour who likes to enjoy life for what it is, read on. Oh, and for you ritalin addicts the best plan is to just look at the pictures, they tell the story...

So, out of consideration for your miniscule attention spans, and with the assumption that you have some important agonising to go write about, I'll hit the highlights of the trip only. But first, here is a map of the adventure:

You will notice that there is a rather suspicious amount of red around Deer Harbour and the Orcas ferry dock. That is because these happen to be the places where icecream is sold...you do the math.

Have you ever noticed just how many drunken powerboaters there are in the san juans? Well, just trust me, when you are cruising in a small open boat this observation is impressed on you in several unhappy ways. The first is the sheer size of the wakes these ugly monstrosities kick up. They alternatly make you think of a tsunami or the whirlpools from the odyssey depending on whether you are going up the front and looking up at the crest or sliding down the back and looking into the swerling depths of the trough. Nor do the drunken skippers seem to mind "No Wake" signs. I find this surprising, since the drivers are certainaly drunk enough to be seeing double I would have expected the signs to make double the impression on them. Aparently not though... Needless to say (but I'll say it anyway, I'm just cool that way...) the Black Dog pulled submarine imitations more then once...
The other way that the plague of powerboats is unhappily born in on the unfortunate small boat cruiser is that all these boats seem to be driven by drunken homocidel maniacs. Some of their antics would have made the captain of a greek tri-ream proud. The Black Dog only managed to survive the trip with her water line intact by adhearing strictly to the thinking man's rules of the road. That is, if the other boat is bigger, faster and/or heavier then yours, they automaticaly have right of way and it would be foolish to contest it.

And so it was, through the carfull observance of the right of way rule and a solid helping of good luck that the Black Dog and her crew came reletivly unscathed to the shores of Cyprus Island. Many antics followed; simming in the lakes on the island (oh, were there "No Swimming" signs there? we must not have noticed...), bushwhaking/mountain climbing up the 70 degree slope to the very top of the island (if The Mothers ever ask, it was a statepark manacured path with no mortal peril involved...), and, well, if you don't mind I'd rather not talk about the rest...;)

The return journey was essentialy a repeat of the outgoing trip with one notable exception. On the last leg, between Jones and Stuart, we were lucky enough to get the results of a fairly solid storm which had been building up overnight . Anyone who has sailed near the point of Spieden knows that with a solid tide running and the results of 14 hours of storm, this stretch of water can be interesting, to say the least. Well, the stalwert crew of the Black Dog were unafraid (well, I'm the chronicler, I am allowed some liberties...) and with your modest author at the helm, they set out. Well, lets just say it was an interesting hour with the Black Dog breaking speed records. The highlights include seeing a 30' sloop knocked down on it's beam ends, which, for some reason, only seemed to make the crew more afraid for their lives, although your author found the sight not in the least frightening (well, not very frightening...). Personaly, I was having the time of my life, although the crew seemed to have less then complete confidence in my skippering skills (geez you whinners, who is the profesional sailor here??). There was much praying, nail knawing and last minute will signing going on in the fore cockpit throughout. To this day the number of near capsizes and escapes from death will very depending on who you ask, the crew opting for an indecently high figure and your gallent author maintaining that it was only in the realm of half a dozen.

So, we made it back safe and sound with only reletivaly minor psychological trauma to report.

Black Dog cruise lines is now taking advanced reservations for the summer '06 sailing season. Luxury accomodations include a tent on shore, hard boat floorboards and a soaking wet sleeping bag. Meals are catered by our award winning chef and include cookies, water, homemade granola bars and powdered milk (the icecream and hamburgers are for the crew, so don't get any ideas). The crew is well versed in all entertainment techniques, especially those that include scaring the crap out of guests. Once again, we are currently taking reservations for summer '06, book your place now before they are all taken.

SchoonerBum: The Man Behind The Moniker, An Exclusive Interview

2006-01-20T11:53:00.000-08:00

In case you were wondering, that sound you are hearing is Schoonerbum trying to dig himself out of the mound of shit that has recently come crashing down on his head in the blogspot world. Apperently flippancy is out of vogue... So, I decided that I would write one serious post about introspection, phylosophy and covering my own ass. I am sorry to say that this probly won't be that amusing an entry (wait, there just might be a tad bit of sarcasm, and maybe even a side of parody?) And I warn all you ritalin addicts, this is gonna be a long and probly boring post, so go find a hobby for 10 minutes. What? You're sticking around? Well ok, but atleast get a cup of tea and make yourself comfortable....

So, first a few observations:

First, I would just like to register my astonishment that the three authors of the dupery are giving me shit for wasting my time writing absurd posts... *sniff sniff*, whats that I smell? ;)
Just because some people don't chose to publish their introspections doesn't mean that they don't do some demon wrestling of their own (aww, c'mon, grant me some troubled teen laurels too...)
Everyone has some kind of front they present to the world instead of the "real" them, some kind of armour which they hide in. I know people who project the Incurable Optomist front, the Silent Stoic front, and of course the Sarcastic Cynic. If I am flippent it's because I have found that it is often better to laugh at life then to cry about it. Thats right, that is a chink, keep your fingers out of it...
I remember once a few years ago someone in a position of power was unfairly hastling Isa and Charles and generally making their lives hell. I offended Isa by laughing about it instead of joining in her agonising. The truth was that for me there were two options; brood about a skrewed up situation I couldn't help, effect or change in the slightest, or laugh about the absurdities of the same situation. I sacrificed her sanity for mine, but that's the devil's bargain you make when you don the cynic's armour.
You wear the armour, but to some extent the armour wears you. Ok, that didn't make much sense. What I mean is if, for example, you wear the cynic's armour, over time you become more sensative to the affectations and silly absurdities in every situation. It's an occupational hazard.

On Blogging:

I think that everyone blogs for mostly personal reasons although of course you do take your readers into account to some extent (as this post proves...). Me, I post the inane stories and cartoons I write/draw. I figure that the stories are better off on my blog then in a black notebook unceremoniously jammed into a box with a half dozen of it's fellows and stored in a cobwebby attic. Atleast it looks good on the blog, and you know it's "out there" on the net, waiting to trap the unwary surfer. And who knows? maybe someone will actaully read it...

Introspective Bullshit:

When I took english 101 in college I had the worste teacher who has ever been born. He was so PC it was sickening. No idea was too absurd, no interpritation to improbable for him. In fact, it was so rediculus that my friends and I started to deliberatly come up with insane story interpritations just to find this guy's limit. We figured he had to have one, I mean, there must be a line where he would finally acknowledge that an idea was total bullshit right? Well, to our total incredulity he keeped swallowing our absurd interpretations, infact, he lapped them up. Thats when we realised that this guy had sunk so far into the affectation of inclusive artsy fartsy PCness that he had totaly lost all opinion of his own. This is really the problem I have with introspection in blogs. It's not the introspection that bothers me, its the affectation of PCness and the inevitable extensions that I find annoying. I mean seriously, it often happens that you read a blog entry that begins by examining a problem in the authors personal life, which is all fine and dandy, then suddenly you are reading about how the author has suddenly decided that walking out to their car in the morning is condoning genocide in Africa, the poaching of Pandas and the logging of the amazon rainforest. Thats when you wake up, pull your head out of that dribble and realise that the affectation of introspective flakyness has totaly swamped all reason the author may have possesed. Now, you tell me that that kind of entry is not just as outlandish and absurd as the english teacher. Is it insensitive to find this kind of post worthy of sarcasm and parody?

Wow, I hope that that will be the the most serious entry ever to get past the "publish post" button on this blog. I hope that helped explain my attitude towards blogging (on second thoughts, I hope it didn't, its so much fun to be misunderstood, conversations are so much more interesting...). Now I'll go back to my inane and "degrading" stories of past glories, turn in "another award winning description of the complicated lives of young sailers..." and leave introspection to females, agonising teenagers strugling with identity crisis, hippies, english majors and faith healing gurus. Hey! it was a joke ok? Sometimes older people make jokes.... God, I'm all paranoid now..;)

Klank. The visor slams back shut on his helmet. The rusty hinges skweek like they need oil, or maybe more use. You can no longer see SchoonerBum's eyes. Wait, if you tip your head like this is that a faint twinkle you can see behind the grill??

True Story....

2006-01-20T00:53:00.000-08:00

This comic originally started life on the pages of one my notebooks (see comment on pink tutus post) but since I have been on a paint binge I decided to convert it to digital.

Well, I think it's funny....

The Moaning Chair

2006-01-19T18:22:00.000-08:00

A day in the life of an amature boat builder must be a pretty dull huh? Slowly and mythodicaly working away on his ark, the air perfumed by clean wood shavings, the stillness occasionaly punctuated by a skillsaw cut, but otherwise the craftsman prefers to work with hand tools using a dentist like precision. Right? WRONG! In fact, nothing could be more wrong. I drew a cartoon so you could get a better feel for what backyard boatbuilding is really like:

As you can see, it is by no means a peacful scene. Infact, you can hardly see the boat through the haze of dust, chaos and colerful phrases. Nor is this a particualry fanciful picture, ok, maybe I never threw the drill out of the boat, but certainally broken drill bits traveld farther from the boat then was absolutly necessary... And the undeleated explatives winging peacfully downwind are downright typical.

Since a rather, shall we say, high strung atmosphere prevails (as you can see...), the builder is quite often in a state of frustrated collapse and in need of some serious counseling (as Tristan would say, they need a huge!). This frustration gets even worse when the builder has made a serious mistake. It is at these moments that the fabled "moaning chair" described by the dean of American boat building H. Chappele comes into play. The point of the moaning chair is to force the destraught builder away from the boat and give them time to cool off and reasses the damage. Often after some coolheaded consideration (coolheadedness is a state that is rare in backyard boat building, but it does occasionaly happen) it turns out that the damage is not so irreperable after all.

As you can imagine, I was often to be found of an afternoon slumped in the "moaning chair" contemplating some particularly bad joint as the dust settled around me (although the blue explative haze never seemed to deminishe...). Note, I built my boat far from tree limbs, barn beams and all other attachment points....

Now, there's a moral in there somewhere, if only I could find it....

The Best Laid Plans.... Of Figureheads and Tutus??

2006-01-18T21:49:00.000-08:00

WHAT?? Ok, so maybe it doesn't make much sense, but titles arn't supposed to make sense. I bet that title was just weird enough to get you reading, now you are mine for as long as I choose to write because you will be waiting to find out just what the hell figureheads and tutus have to do with anything, you are my prisoner, Muahahahah! So, since I have your attention I decided to keep you in the dark for a little longer and ramble randomly about why I am posting two (count them, two) long posts in one day. Well, the reason is that I won't have time to post tomorrow, so I figured I'd post tomorrow's post today, that is, unless it takes so long to write that it becomes tomorrow... whatever, I'm already confused and I even know what the title means (see that? cunningly drops in the teaser again to keep you going through these doldrums). Ah well, today is the tomorrow you worried about yesterday, or something like that, honestly I don't have enough brain power right now to proccess that kind of paradox. All my wits were scarred off when some inconsiderate schmuck woke me up before 9:00 this morning (I understand that there are times even earlier then this, but their names are not suitible for polite society). Anyway, my wits were in hiding all day and havn't seen fit to return yet, so I'm running on one cylinder as it were, which explains the rambling. Luckely this is a blog so I feel no guilt in sending this straight to the publisher without proofreading...

Anyway, Now I have toyed with your patience long enough, I'll get on to the great and wonderful saga of the figurehead and the pink tutu. But before I begin, some critics may accuse the author of exageration, but be it said, this tale is true in all important and significant respects (I admit to having toned down the reality in some cases for fear it wouldn't be believed...).

So, as all tall ship sailors know, any gathering of tall ships sets the stage for a full on crew vs. crew practical joke war. One such gathering between our hero and his friends (plug plug) aboard the Adventuress and the dasterdly lawless ruffians (boh hiss) crewing the Lady Washington resulted in this victory that would echo down the corridors of tall ship history and spawn many myths and legends (well, ok, maybe it wasn't quite that legendary...). Anyway, for those of you who are not familiar with The Lady, it is important to know that she is graced with a quite impresive figurehead (...zzzHUH? did he just say figurehead? thats right, you better start paying attention...). This figurehead is a feature of the ship pridefully desplayed at dockside tours and other PR events such as the one where our saga takes place.

Well, now that you have seen the figurehead in question, I think you can hardly blame your heros for thinking it needed some, shall we say, embelishment?? In fact, it seemed obvious to us what embelishment it required, and as fate would have it, we happend to have the *perfect* article on hand. So, the raid was planed with the utmost precision, watches syncronized, oars muffled in the best searaiding tradition, the intrepid party set out during the early hours of the morning (these early hours are decent to speak of because we had stayed up, not been woken up...). At this point I must rely on the testimony of a true and trustworthy friend who was part of said raiding party because your gallent author was bussily engaged preparing for another phase of the operation. Actually, I don't need the testimony at all, your vivid imaginations can connect the dots.... sufice it to say that when dawn broke the figurehead looked like this instead:

Consternation rained abord The Lady, although the tourists and rubberneckers dockside seemed to find the idea of the ship's proud figurehead decked out in a handsome pink tutu quite amusing... (the tutu fit beautifuly by the way ;) )

Epalogue:

Unfortunatly the woes of the crew of The Lady were not yet over for the night and the tale of our hero's gallent part is still to be told. Naturally the villenious crew of The Lady had planed their own sabatoge against the Adventuress, but due to the brilliance, initiative and daring of our hero these plans were averted in a manner most humiliating for the sabaturs. Our hero, who happens to be a tactical genius, had noticed something important resulting from Adventuress' position on the dock: namely, any crew from The Lady heading towards Adventuress in the middle of the night with evil intent would be forced to pass under the tip of the Adventuress' bowsprit. Naturaly, our hero and a stout hearted compaion stationed themselves to lie in wait for the inevitable raiding boat. Also quite naturaly they did not station themselves there empty handed.... The rest is best explained by the cartoon:

(wowza, who's the sexy guy in the pirate hat?? hint: he has curly black hair and lots of it...)

And so it was that Adventuress' genius and planning prevailed and all the best laid plans of The Lady mearly lead them to ignomous defeat! Horray for our side!!

That, my patiant readers, is the wonderouse saga of the Figurehead and the pink tutu, another feather in the cap of your brilliant author. Ah, and would you look at the time, seems that I have managed to waste a full 3 minutes (or so..) of your life! Silly me, If I had only explained about that pink tutu earlier you wouldn't have wasted all that precious time, (see what a catchy title will do for you?) anyway, it must have been a mistake, that could never have been my intent... honestly!

Water Rat Was Totaly Wrong!

2006-01-18T10:37:00.000-08:00

"There is nothing, absolutely nothing, half so much worth doing as simply planning around the bay in a Laser. Soaked to the skin by spray, ass dragging in the water you're hiked so far, leaping off wave tops and submarining your bow in the back of the next one, swallowing half the spray 'cus your smile is so wide, ahh..." .... "nothing" Water Rat said dreamily "half so much worth doing..... "

At least, this is what the soliloquizing fool would have said had he ever sailed a Laser. Instead he waxed lyrical about a tubby little rowboat, jeez, give me a break! Just to give you a better idea of what was really running through Water Rat's mind, I drew this cartoon:

Seriously, who wants to read about drifting down tranquil picturesque tree lined streams in some little rowboat?? If only I had been there to give Kenneth Grahame some pointers... Kinda makes you wonder what makes great literature, I mean, this book ended up being revered through the ages even though it got such a major plot point wrong! What? Is that scoffing I hear? Yes the kind of boat Water Rat sails is a major plot point! Shut up you cynical nay-sayers! Now Hornblower, that is real lit. I mean, he spends all his time sailing around in huge ships of the line and blowing stuff up.... damn that is badass, doesn't get any better then that! But I am getting off topic (yes there really is a topic, trust me....). I decided that since I spent all last post knocking a shity boat, I should even the score by talking about an awsome boat. Unfortunatly the score is only temporarly even, since there are so many more shity boats then good ones... ah well, on to Lasers and how awsome they are.

Well there you have it. The picture says it all, I don't think I need to elaborate. What? you actually want some clever and stimulating commentary? Well you came to the wrong shop my friend, but I'll give it a shot, no promises though....

The laser happens to be sheer genius. It is pretty much the most boat it's possible to get in 16 feet and nothing, not even a larger boat, surpasses it in all out bang for the buck and pure fun factor (well, Ok, a windsrufer gives it a run for its money....) . The laser is a planning dinghy (for those of you who don't know what that is, it means it gets up on top of its own bow wave and hauls ass) and as you can see in the picture it really does hual ass. Lasers are not tame boats like your local yacht club's El Toro's or Opti's, Lasers can give you some exciting near death experiences. The best and most common example is the infamous "death roll": This is essentially defined as the skipper totaly loosing control of the boat when going downwind, more or less sinking, and generaly being knocked unconcious for a few moments by the boom. It also happens to be one of the funniest sights ever, and luckely it's ok to laugh at the skipper becuase they have been knocked out and won't ever know.... Kind of like laughing at the antics of a drunken friend, it's Ok because you know they will never remember. Anyway, the inevitable outcome of a death roll:

Told you it was a dramatically funny sight.... Ah, and I nearly forgot, Lasers also have the coolest sail symbol ever, which pretty much clinches their superiority as far as I am concerned! Hmm, what else can I say about Lasers to make me feel like this isn't such a pathetic post.... All I can add is the most hacknied and cliched phrase ever, which has been applied to Lasers ever since the first one rolled out of the plant: Lasers are "the most fun you can have with your pants on!"

And one more thing! this is a gratuitous picture of Laser sailing mishaps that has no place in this post at all, but that i couldn't resist putting in anyway... This is what happens when your feet come out of the hiking straps... Hope the water was warm...I Love Sailing!

(just to preserve my fragile ego, this *was not me!*, witness the blonde hair...) :)

Chic New Look

2006-01-18T00:53:00.000-08:00

As you can see, I was up way to late fine tuning my artsy new look. Any comments/criticisms are appriciated. Of course, I will loath and despise you for all eternity for criticising my beautiful template, but I will take your comment into account. That is a fair way to handle constructive criticism right? Right?.... if you say "no" then I will of course declare a blood fued with you for the next hundred generations.....

Solidified Snot

2006-01-17T12:34:00.000-08:00

So, I was reading a boat magazine today when I ran across an ad for my least favorite boat in all the world. That's when I realized that I can fit my two favorite things in this post (boats and ranting at morons) so, if you are up for an aggresive read, then sit back and enjoy.

"It looks like solidified snot!" these are the famous words of yacht design legend L.F. Herrshoff when he saw one of his designs reproduced in fiberglass. This also happens to be my reaction when I see the Mcgregor 21, although I add that it looks like solidified snot that a car stylist has run amuck on. So, what exactly does this travisty look like? bleeeechhh...:

Was I right? yeah, I knew it. So, the first thing you have to know about the mcgregor is that it was designed as a kind of sail/power hybrid. Actually it was designed to make the mcgregor CEO dough, but aside from that... The idea was that you could have a sailboat and then when the wind died you could kick on the 'ol 50hp outboard (no shit...) and plane merrily off. What happened of course is that it was marketed as haveing all the romance of sail but all the practicality of power, so people bought it picturing in their minds eye idylic scenes of sailing off into the sunset but still being able to get to work on time monday morning. Really what happened was that the sails were never raised after that first trial sail and the outboard got a lot of work (actually, the outboard only got a lot of work on the few Mcgregers that ever lef their moreings...). Anyway, there are two reasons for the over use of the motor: first, they stuck a fanastically shitty sail rig on the worst designed sailboat to ever float, some of those egyption reed barges were probly faster, even against the current of the Nile, and second, no one in their right mind would hang around drifting in a shity sailboat (or any sailboat for that matter...) when they could simply kick on the 50 horse and be in friday harbour in time for a nice candle lit dinner. This reminds me of a quote (surprise surprise...;) ) :

"The wonder is always new that any sane man can be a sailor". -Ralph Waldo Emerson

Luckely for me, I make no claims to sanity.... Anyway, now that we have determined that the whole planeing hybrid sail/power/cruiser thing is a load of marketing gimmick, lets move on to the atrocious styling of this beast. Is it just me, or are darkened windows obscene and out of place on anything other then a Ferrari? Seriously, the sleek car styling is never going to make that a fast boat, even though it might look like it. The only thing that can make a Mcgreger get out of its own shadow is the 50 horse, and that's barely enough. Actually, if the advertisers are to be believed, having a scantily clad suppermodel on the foredeck will also make a boat go fast, maybe someone should try that with a Mcgreger, who knows, it might work, and at the very least it would make the boat nicer to look at. But seriously, (yeah, sometimes you'll find that even on this blog... rare, but it happens) functionality is great, and even might be an excuse for uglyness, but to to have both uglyness and total impracticality wraped up in one bundle is pretty bad. Another qoute:

"The perfection of a yachts beauty is that nothing should be there for only beauty's sake"

Phil Bolger, the iconiclastic yacht designer from Mass. , has raised bare functionality to an artform. His boats are supreme examples of function over form, but even his boats have a kind of beauty to them:

I mean, leeboards, off-center masts, slab sides, *ugly*!!. And yet, it still has a kind of, I don't know, pugnacious style to it... At least his boats have a solid charecter unlike that soulless wanna be sportscar boat. Now that is genius, when you can design for pure function, come out with an amazingly capable boat and still retain some small vestigial remnents of style. Of course, this kind of boat sells to eccentrics, who don't have much money, so it wouldn't make the Mcgregor CEO much money..... Actually, now that I think about it, maybe the Mcgreger isn't so bad after all, I mean it has mad the CEO a pile...

Gratuitous Boat Pinups

2006-01-16T19:32:00.000-08:00

Thought I'd continue with the boat theme, if for no other reason then that it gives me an excuse to put up lots of boat pinup drool material. So, here are the main boats in my life, and a little commentary on each:

Seabird: This is the boat I am building right now, the one I can head out Juan de Fuca on. I have only got the rig, final painting and interior to finish (yeah, I know, not exactyly *only*, but I'm an optomist...). Its been a big project, building a 27' full keel cruiser is no joke. I should (*crosses fingers*...) finish this spring/summer and get some sailing in this year. Oh yeah, I am rigging it as a marconi yawl, instead of gaff since I actually aspire to some windward ability.... Also, I don't yet have a name for it (seabird is the name of the design) so any suggestions would be appriciated.

Black Dog:This is the 25' schooner that Yeshe and I built ohhh, five years ago or so. Lots of fun for adventureing and camp cruising around the islands, as well as beeing rediculusly fast and a wet whiteknuckle ride! She's really just a big planeing dinghy with far more sail area then is healthy...(naturaly we proceded to add more :)) I Love Sailing!!!!

Adventuress: This is a lovely local tallship I have been working, volenteering and crewing on for 6 years or so now. Wow, look at that picture, obviosly one of the prettiest boats in the islands. What more could you want from life then to sail on a boat like this?? The only thing that could improve this picture is erasing that nasty shoreline in the background.... Squint that away and you are offshore on a 110' schooner, doesn't get much better then that!

"It's remarkable how quickly a good and favorable wind can sweep away the maddening frustrations of shore living"

"Ships are the nearest things to dreams that hands have ever made"

Sunrise At Sea

2006-01-15T23:04:00.000-08:00

Here are the best pictures I managed to get with a cheap point and click camera.... They can't really show how amazing it was to see this in 360 deg with no land in the way. Oh yeah, the reason the top pic looks so calm is because that was taken the morning after we had been becalmed for 15 hours...as you can see, the wind is just picking up and we are off on our merry way again.

Past Laurels

2006-01-15T22:00:00.000-08:00

Well, here I am again, posting on schedule like a pro, I really have to quit this, it's not healthy.... Anyway, I had a dream about this last night, and since I don't have anything particularly interesting or exciting to report (as anyone who read my last post is painfully aware...), I decided to give a short account of a past glorious exploit instead. So, a few summers ago I sailed from Stuart Island to San Francisco on the boat in the picture (the Azimut for the record). There, I told you it would be short! Seriously though, I really am going to give a slightly longer account then that... So lets try again: "No shit, there I was..." ermm, how about "it was a dark and stormy night...". Yeah, I like that, grabs the attention with a riviting opening. Ok, Ok, enough nonsense, speaking of storms though, we did get one nice one on the trip, and it was at night. 40knt winds, 20ft waves, running under bare polls for 10 hours, surfing at 10knts down the fronts of the waves, altogether a sureal kolidiscope in my memory (hmm, that was an artsy sentence..*pats himslef on the back*). Wish I had some pictures of the phosphorescent crests as they rushed up out of the darkness behind us, because looking up from the cockpit and seeing that wall of water above you was absolutly amazing (also happend to be scary as shit, but scary in an exhilorating and exciting way...). When you are steering in conditions like these you don't look back at the waves, you look at the rest of the crew, when they look straight up over your head, thats when you worry... The night watches were also amazing. No land in sight, no lights on the horizon, just a huge upsidedown bowl of stars above you. There were only three of us on the boat, so we were each on watch for about eight hours of the day. I had the 1am to 10 (or so ...) watch, which was the sunrise watch. we were 80 miles off shore, so the sunrise was incredible (sunsets as well, we watched for the elusive "green flash" but never saw it, *sigh*, guess that will have to wait for next trip...). And this was real sailing, none of the frustrating, picky upwind ghosting I am used to in the San Juans, this was hull speed reaches for hours on end. Truly glorious, and so many great memories; there's sailing under the golden gate bridge while a *huge* freighter steams up a few hundred yards behind (believe me, looks bigger from directly under the stem...), running under spinaker straight into a J24 regatta (holy @#$%^ shit! there are *hundreds of them, and they're headed straight for us!), watching Americas Cup boats dual in the bay (45deg. of heel on an 80' boat is really something....) and seeing a humback whale along side (ok, so it was about a quarter mile off, but still huge). Anyway, amazing trip and just wet my apitite for more off shore sailing. Maybe when I finish my boat I'll head west out of Juan de Fuca and just keep going (well, i'll slip in a little south so I can go somewhere warm...:) ).

"...they will have the delight of seeing the bow-wave flung wide to leeward and the wake racing away, everything alive and tearing through the water. They would be dull souls that did not love that."

No Ranting?? Then What Am I Going To Write About??

2006-01-14T22:56:00.000-08:00

Man am I vertuous or what?? here I am, posting again the day after my last post! Luckely, I think I can safely say that this new found Type-A-ness is not permanent, and I will return to my usual lax self by tomorrow (at the very latest...). After all, if I was always this responsible I would have to switch my carharts for dress slacks and start wearing a pocket protector (not to mention cutting off the fro...). Anyway, here I am again trying to figure out what to write about. As I said in my last post, I think I have used up my rant qouta for several days. This puts me in the painful position of haveing to come up with a topic free of knocking....a seriouse cramp to my style (as well as explaining the shortness of this post...). Lets see, It seems to me that there are four basic types of blog entries: first, the suave, witty and funny; second, the pedantic faux introspective moral cogitation nonsense (woops, that came close to ranking...accididently I assure you...); third, complete sillyness (witness the dupery); and fourth, the "I have nothing to say" entries. Hmm, seems like this fits into the last catagory, which is lucky, since I love talking about nothing, it's the only thing I know anything about! Well, after that cheap shot maybe I should actually mention something that is even slightly referant to my life. Unfortunatly, I can't think of anything to put in here worth mentioning right now, so my avid readers will just have to imagine some glorious event to feed my larger then life, mythical (and entirely apochrophyl ;)) life story and legend (notice the picture of SchoonerBum the man-god, pretty good likeness! ;))

Anyway, I think I'll round out this completely nonsense post with a few quotes:

First, For Alden's Benefit ( incidently, in case you weren't aware, Alden is completely maaad):

"Mad: adj. Affected with a high degree of intellectual independence." --the devil's dictionary

"Insane people are always sure that they are fine. It is only the sane people who are willing to admit that they are crazy." -- Nora Ephron

And second, as a further supliment to my disclaimer:

"Never mind what I say! I am always saying what I shouldn't. In fact, I usually say what I really think. A great mistake nowadays. It makes one so liable to be misunderstood." --Oscar wilde, an ideal husband

Pretentious People Should Be Shot

2006-01-13T13:26:00.000-08:00

I was browsing random blogs today (I love the "next blog" button...), and I realized that the encyclopedic and ever expanding list of things I loath and despise requires a new entry: I am talking about the concieted morons who title their blogs things like "Moral Cogitations" and "Digital Monologue". I mean seriously, what kind of hubris does it take to say "Moral Cogitations"?? I am not usually a sci fi fan, (to much daux ex machina for me, you know, hero in impossible position, certain to die, but saved by a previously unmentioned demension of space and time and a random flux capacitor...), but Dune is an exception. In Dune (actually, a dune prequal, but whatever...) there is a charactor who is essentially a disimbodied brain floating in a life support container. This brain's entire perpose is to think about everything (it is called, surprise, "the cogitator"), and it has been doing just that for the last several millenia. Now, as far as I am concerned, this is the only person with the right to call themselves a "cogitator". Unless you have had your brain surgically removed and been thinking for millenia, elavating your thoughts to "cogitations" is just wanton hubris, and you should be shot (ah, I love simple remadies!). Not only do these titles sound concieted, they prove that the authors take themselves seriously, and in my *humble* opinion, anyone who takes themselves seriously should also be shot (under my administration, the world would be a simple place! ;) ). My suggestion for the titles of these blogs is that they be changed to synonims for "Random Faux Introspective Rambleings Of A Pompouse And Concieted Windbag". Oh, and another thing (yeah, I know, that should fulfill my rant quota for the day, but alas for you....), these titles imply that there might be something profound and worth reading on these blogs, something to enlighten you about the state of the world, or universal truths or *something*! Unfortunatly, my experience is that these title are playing a very unfair trick on the reader, since I have yet to find any pearls of wisdom under the verbose ramblings (maybe it's pearls before swine and i'm just stupid, stranger things have happened....but i doubt it! ;) ) Anyway, personally I prefer titles like mine, that own up, head held high, to the undisputable fact that there is nothing but silly and cynical junk to be expected, and none of it is worth reading. Hmm, reading over this post makes *Me* sound like a concieted windbag, but there you are, even on my blog you are bound to find the truth sometimes... Luckely my disclaimer comes to my rescue.

Mad And Crazy PhotoShoping

2006-01-11T17:49:00.000-08:00

As you can see, I have been haveing to much fun with Gimp. I found this picture online, but he *Really* needed a gotee...ah..there, viola!

Captain Blood (oooh argh!)

2006-01-11T14:35:00.000-08:00

So, I recently became innitiated to the holy mysteries of the greatest movie ever made (plug plug...). Wait for it... Captain Blood from 1935. I know, you scoff, but seriously, does it get any better then 1935 special effects and Errol Flynn?? There, I knew you'd come around in the end! There is not really any way to describe it except to say it's corny, hilarious and altogether awsome!

Gives Pirates Of The Caribbean a run for its money!!

Arr..*swash swash, buckle buckle*

Classy New Decor

2006-01-11T14:26:00.000-08:00

Fun with HTML! As you can see, I have finished my mad new banner, after many strugles with Gimp (basically photoshop, but free...) I also got a little carried away editing the template... Anyway, now my blog is different, classy and sprinkled with random suave and witty comments! (or not...)

Life, The Universe, And Everything

2006-01-09T16:58:00.000-08:00

As you can see, I have finally gotten off my lazy butt and posted again. I have been sick, tired, lazy and errr..umm...well, Ok, so there is no excuse (well, lazy is true, but I don't think that counts...) Anyway, I have now recieved enough death threats to spur even indolent me into action. So what do you post about if all you have done recently is sleep and work on importing a friend's boat into CAD? (don't even ask about the proportion of sleeping to CAD, it would only prove just how lazy I am) Well, everyone else seems to be posting brilliant phylosophical tretise about depression, responibility, happiness, time, existential funks etc. It looks like I will have to break out of the mold for two reasons: first, the rest of you have collectivly covered about as much phylisophical ground as all the thinkers of antiquity, so there is nothing left to cover, and second, posting on these serious subjects would give the lie to my blog title! ;) That said, I am going to join in the fun and put up some of my favorite quotes about life, the universe, and everything (including my blog title of course) before moveing on to lighter subjects:

"A man must sometimes laugh at himself or go mad, few realize this, that is why there are so many madmen in the world"

"to love onesself is the beginning of a lifelong romance."

"it's not arrogence, it's confidence." (well, this is actually by yours truely, but it sounds good!)

"expereince is the name age gives its mistakes."

"swear, cry, do the job - thats life"

"oh well, what the hell...!"

"life is far to important to take seriously"

Whew, there you have the extent of my phylosophical wanderings. As far as I am concerned sailing is the best means of hapiness; good sailing= Life Rocks!, cruddy sailing= Life still Rocks!. See? life isn't so complicated after all! ;) So enough wallowing in gloom! stop pulling your hair out (who wants to look like the guy in the picture??), find something to do that you enjoy (whether that be looking at pictures of your goofiest friends, messing around in FinalCutPro or best of all, Sailing!) and have fun.

And now, ladies and gentelmen (well, that covers most of you...), that concludes our latest session with world famous life counseler Schoonerbum, lets have a big round of applause, and stay tuned for News From The Lighter Side, as promised.

Actually, that will have to wait 'till next post, since I have a date with photoshop to make a mad banner. I know, why am I bothering to make a banner for a blog I never post in? well obviosly, becuase it is Cool! So now I have to get my 1337 h4xOr brother to show me how to edit the html and add a banner (maybe we'll poruse some government files on the way...)

First Post Ever

2006-01-06T18:51:00.000-08:00

Hello World! Wow, this makes me feel like the next great novelist, published and everything! Well, for my avid readers, (about as real as my imaginary friends and alternate personality) I will try to keep this blog updated, but I am an extremaly lazy fellow.....