The Charge of the (Ultra)Light Brigade

When I was a freshman at Washington College, I experienced the most indelible image of my relatively brief tenure there(2 yrs). It occurred during the course of the hazing rituals then practiced. Tradition held that the sophomores would descend upon our dorm, G.I. hall, and trash the place. Things didn't exactly go as they planned, and we were able to repel their foray with a large water hose, and a larger physical presence. Just by chance, we had a disproportionate number of large dudes in our class. Mule Jennings was  our ringleader. Having defended our turf, we mounted a counter-attack the next night. Someone in our class had taken a truck to Trusslow's poultry farm, and brought back the mother load of rotten eggs. We were armed and dangerous, and so proceeded to make our way to Somerset Hall. We rallied by the front door and taunted the sophomores to come out, or we would come in. After several minutes of no response, the door burst open and running out with right arm raised came Prof. Norman James, who was the dorm proctor. He shouted "charge", even though he had no back-up. So he bore the brunt of our egg fusillade, collapsing in a heap on the front porch. We then proceeded to give Somerset a thorough egging, inside and out. Prof. James "charging" out the door was the most indelible image of my WC experience. The good humor and pluck that he showed then are among the reasons he became a beloved
figure at the college.
    

Red Light Cameras-Do They Work?

Cameras that are intended to catch motorists running red lights, have become the subject of considerable
controversy. Critics of the cameras(most of whom seem to be those who have been caught) claim that they are ineffective, and may create accidents. Such accidents are said to occur as you apply the brakes in response to the yellow light, and the driver behind you accelerates and attempts to pass in order to run the red light(doesn't that frost you when it happens). The purpose of the cameras, as I understand it, is to catch red light runners, which is a violation of the motor vehicle code. Are they effective? Everywhere that they have been employed, they have caught violators by the score. It appears that red-light-running
has become the most popular vehicular sport, replacing "chicken". Critics of the cameras would probably prefer that traffic lights simply be abolished. Then they would never have to stop, and the camera question would be moot.
Following the same line of reasoning, one has to question the continuing existence of police departments, which have been around for centuries. Are they effective? Clearly less so than cameras in catching red light runners, and many other types of crime also persist. The NRA would clearly favor this position.
No traffic lights, no police. Everyone responsible for their own protection. Love that freedom.

A Primer on Socialism and Related Terms

Among the milder criticisms leveled at Pres. Obama is that he is a socialist. His healthcare reform program has been reviled by neocons on this basis. One defining characteristic of socialism is that all members of a society provide support for a program, usually financially, and to the extent to which they are able. Then all members of that society are entitled to certain defined benefits without respect to their ability to pay. I hope
that everyone realizes that our public school system, K-12, is the largest example of socialism in our society. There are many, many others including Social Security, Medicare, all publicly-funded police and fire depts, and even volunteer fire depts. What is the alternative? Simple: all schools would be private, and if you could not  afford it you would receive no education(like the slaves). Most civilized societies rejected the idea that education is only for the privileged, several centuries ago. Obama has essentially attempted to extend our approach to public education to the healthcare system. The U.S. is the only industrialized democracy which does not have universal healthcare.
Obama has also been labeled a communist by T-baggers. Communism has several additional precepts which extend well beyond socialism. Most notably, that the state owns all real property(land and buildings) and controls the means of production(factories,farms, etc.) The USSR was the most notable example, and it collapsed after 73 yrs.
To label Obama a Nazi, as some T-baggers have done, shows total ignorance of the way National Socialism was practiced in Germany at the time of WW2. It was a totalitarian state Where the Nazi party controlled every aspect of German life. No dissent was permitted. If a person protested about any aspect of Nazi policy, they would be taken in for questioning by the federal police(the Gestapo), and they would never be seen again. Anyone inquiring about the person would be told to shut up, or they would also disappear. People quickly learned to keep their mouth's shut. The fact that Fox news is still on the air, shows that Obama is not a Nazi.

A Test of Recent Historical Events

A number of people don't score well on questions regarding ancient history(defined as 10 yrs ago, or more). A number of Republicans, and assorted T-baggers, don't even do well on events which occurred in the last 2 yrs. Try the following questions.
1. Which administration initiated the "Bank Bailout" program?(Troubled Asset Relief Program or TARP)
2. Who was the Secretary of the Treasury then, and who appointed him?
3. Who was the President who pushed this program through Congress?
4. Is the economy in better shape now(Sept,2010) than it was 2 yrs ago(Sept,2008)?
Two yrs ago Lehman Bros., and several other major Wall St. financial institutions failed. They declared bankruptcy, thus did not have to pay off their creditors. This created the possibility of a domino effect where financial institutions and banks couldn't pay their creditors because they were unable to collect from their debtors. This is what happened at the start of the the Great Depression, continuing down to the level of your hometown bank. When you went to your bank to withdraw your deposits, you typically received an I.O.U., which was worthless. Eventually the F.D.I.C. was created(how many anti-government types would like to eliminate this gov't agency"). The TARP, despite some missteps, appears to have prevented a catastrophic financial collapse from occurring.
Answers to questions:1. The George W. Bush administration. 2. Henry(Hank) Paulson, appointed by George W. Bush. 3. George W. Bush. 4. Two yrs ago the economy was on the verge of a total collapse.
Many people found that their 401K's, and similar plans, had declined by 50%. Only a few wingnut economists would now claim that there is any immediate danger of such a collapse. Most retirement plans have recovered 75-80% of the value they lost. Regardless of your employment status, the economy is in much better shape than it was 2 yrs ago.

Back in Business

After a month or so of R&R, from having my main engine overhauled, I am ready to re-enter the blogosphere. If you need an immediate poetry fix, go to my website(thecompletepoet.yolasite.com).
There are 44 poems languishing there.

Observations on Wall Street

1. The stock market is the ocean. Most investors are flotsam and jetsam; simply going whatever direction
the tide dictates.
2. If the "talking heads" continue to babble incoherently about a "double dip", they could well cause it to occur. Stupid lips sink markets.

Big Fish Tails

Recently I learned that the world's record for Red fish (Red drum) is 94 lbs, caught in NC. The state record in FL is 51 lbs. In 1966. fishing on the eastern shore of VA, in two nights my father and I caught 8 Red fish which weighed from 37 to 58 lbs. I caught the big one, and lived in FL at the time Therefore, it is possible that I have caught the largest Red fish of any FL resident. I have photos, and a trophy from the Baltimore Sun as evidence.

Application for Dead Poet's Society---Rejected!

My recent application to The Society was rejected with malice. I was advised that since I failed to die, this alone disqualified me. Additionally, my effort was characterized as half-hearted, at best, and possibly even feigned. I was further advised that I would never become a member unless the following problems with my poetry were rectified.
1. It is insufficiently self-absorbed.
2.It lacks opacity-any marginally literate person can understand it.
3.Gross deficiency in vulgarity-few references to sexual behavior or various bathroom activities.
4.Essentially devoid of profanity-no m-f, f, s, or b words. A few d words will not suffice.

Plan B

One day many years ago, I was out on an early morning golfing venture with several of my buddies from the state prison(we were staff). It had rained heavily the night before, and I noticed

that there were night crawlers all over the place, especially on the greens. I wasn't playing very

well, so I began to pick up the worms and put them in my golf bag. The higher my score on a hole,

the more worms I picked up. At the end of the first 9 holes, my score was atrocious, but I had accumulated several dozen worms. So I announced to my buddies that I was packing it in, and

going fishing. I always kept my fishing tackle in the trunk of my vehicle. The course we were playing, Valley Forge, was only a short distance from one of my favorite fishing spots on the Schuylkill river. As I recall, the fishing wasn't very productive either, but it was more relaxing.

I guess that is why I gave up golf 10 years ago, but continue to fish.

Hooked Up

On Facebook, I recently read of someone who caught themselves twice in one week while fishing. This reminded me of my own mishaps in that regard, which also numbered two, but were several years apart. The unique aspect of my experiences was that the circumstances were virtually identical. In both cases I was using a large planer and a Rapala Magnum CD-22 lure to troll for Gag grouper. This lure is approx.10 in. long and has 2 sets of large tandem hooks. I was fishing alone both times, and had pulled in grouper in the 6-8 lbs class. In the first incident, the hook-up occurred as I pulled one set of hooks from the mouth of the fish, I drove a hook from the second set into my thumb. Although these hooks are large,they get good penetration. And once they go in past the barb, there is no pulling them out. So my only alternative was to navigate back to the dock, and go to the nearest emergency room.

While the second experience was quite similar, it turned out to be much more challenging. This time, as I was attempting to unhook the fish, it thrashed around and I lost my grip. The gyrations of the fish caused one of the hooks from the second set to embed in my finger. So now both I and the fish were hooked to the lure. Problem: how do I hold onto the fish and extract the hook, with only one free hand? In a minute or two, it occurred to me that I could clamp the fish between the lid and case of the large fish box that I kept frozen bait in, and hold it with my foot. Then I could remove the hook with my free hand. After this was done, it was back to the dock, and on to the emergency room. And by the way, they remove the hook by cutting it off at the shank and pushing it through. This would be extremely painful except for the novocaine. And to put things in perspective, in the 35 years I fished for grouper, I caught somewhere between 15 and 20 thousand of them trolling(about 500 per year).

Taking Robin Roberts fishing.

As a youngster growing up in Phila. around 1950, and an aspiring pitcher, it was only natural that Robin Roberts should become my boyhood idol. The Phillies were my team, and he was their star pitcher. I followed his career closely over the years, and eventually our paths converged when he became the baseball coach at the Univ. of South Florida in 1977. I had been on the faculty since 1966 as a Professor in the Psychology Dept. We met several years later when we both attended a function of the USF Women's Club with our respective wives. When I learned that Robin Roberts was there I couldn't pass up the opportunity, so I went to where he was seated and introduced myself. After chatting briefly about baseball, he asked about my activities. When I told Robin that I moonlighted as a commercial grouper fisherman, he said that he would like to go along on a trip "just to observe." Several weeks later we made a day trip on my 25 ft Delta. After several unproductive stops I decked a couple of nice gag grouper. At this point point Robin said "hey Bob can I try one of your spare rods." After a little coaching( most inexperienced anglers hold the rod under their armpit, but you need to stick it in your gut to get enough leverage to keep grouper out of the rocks) he was able to land several decent fish. Robin went on several more trips with me and brought along some of his family. On one trip he hooked a nice fish which was giving him a particularly hard time. I snidely asked him if it felt like he had Willie McCovey on the line? Robin said "I hope not, I had enough of that fellow." Those were truly memorable fishing trips for me. Few people get to meet their idols, let alone take them fishing. And Robin Roberts was congenial and unpretentious just as advertised.

The Voyage of the Complete Fiasco

(Regarding the vessel's name, this is not the official version, rather it was the one selected by survivors of this excursion.)

1 The Vessel
2.The Captain
3. The Crew
4. Provisioning the Vessel
5. A-Sailing They Go
6. High Tide
7. Call Joe the Plumber
8. Attack of Killer Dolphins
9. Frigging with the Rigging
10. The Longest Night
11. Rescued at last, Rescued at Last, Yada, Yada, Yada.

The Vessel
The --- -- -- was
a wooden sailing vessel
named after the wife of Matt MacWrong.
In design it was
reminiscent of a barge,
nearly as wide as it was long.

Those familiar with sailing vessels
might have called it a bark,
but to non-nautical types
it was unmistakably The Ark.

Though not of recent vintage,
the boat was solid as a brick.
With a draft of 8 ft, and weighing 50 tons,
she could take a serious lick.

A head, galley, and genset,
were among her amenities,
and she had an auxiliary engine,
for motoring at sea.

The Captain
The owner and Captain
was Dr Matt MacWrong,
who, concerning misadventures at sea,
had a resume`that was long.

Whether Matt was a competent sailor
is difficult to say,
but routine maintenance and preparation
were clearly not his forte.

He could be described, most generously
as someone who sailed
by the seat of his pants.
Skippers of the first rank
prepared for all eventualities
well in advance.

Matt often claimed that he planned
to write an autobiography.
Some of his cohorts snidely suggested a title;
"My Losing Battle with the Sea."

The Crew
The crew were all greenhorns,
new faculty members and graduate students
who didn't know the score.
Anyone who had sailed
with Matt previously,
rarely came back for more.

Those who had been around for awhile
knew just what to do,
when word spread that Matt
was trying to round up a crew.
Suddenly everyone had places to go,
people to see, and things to do.

So the voyage had all the ingredients
of a most unpromising stew,
a sometimes reckless captain, a poorly maintained vessel,
and an unsuspecting, greenhorn crew.

Provisioning the Vessel
Although this was planned
as a simple day cruise,
one thing not lacking
was an abundant supply of booze.

There were ten cases
of beverages that were malty,
and two large grocery sacks
of sandwiches and snacks quite salty.

There was one case of gin and vodka
with assorted mixers,
so if poisonous sea snakes were encountered,
these were the magic elixirs.

And just in case,
there were emergency rations too,
namely, one six-pack of bottled water,
and one of Mountain Dew.

A-Saling They Go
A routine day sail was planned,
twelve nautical miles north to Anclote Key and back,
with a prevailing westerly of 10 kts,
they wouldn't even need to tack.

Had the crew been more savvy
there would have been some dismay,
when the sails were unfurled at the dock,
as they got underway.

Matt maneuvered down the narrow residential canal,
barely missing a couple of docks,
and while several neighbors shouted profanities,
most appeared to be in shock.

The next challenge was the Clearwater Pass drawbridge
which, in relation to the vessel
did not seem very wide.
But Matt said "don't sweat it,
if I stay right in the middle,
we'll have 3 ft on either side.

Disaster was narrowly averted
and as they left the bay,
a northerly course was set,
and the partying got underway.

It was a capital day for sailing
and they proceeded blissfully,
the time was nearing high noon
as they approached Anclote Key.

There were shoals in the vicinity of Anclote
that were clearly marked on every chart,
and if Matt had bothered to consult one,
he'd have known that from the start.

Matt proclaimed "we'll just go
a little further before turning to the south,"
when the boat came to a grinding stop,
as those words barely left his mouth.

Mariners of all types
abhor running aground.
But the remedy is usually simple,
reverse your engine and back down.

When using the auxiliary engine was suggested
to Matt, he acted like it was a joke.
He replied that "a good sailor doesn't need an engine,
and besides the damn thing is broke."

High Tide
When asked what he planned to do
the skipper seemed undismayed.
He said "we'll just wait for high tide,
and then we will float away."

The crew wanted to know
just when high tide might be?
Matt replied that "he had forgotten to bring a tide chart,
so they would just have to wait and see."

Several minutes later
a small outboard cruised by slowly.
Matt shouted to to the skipper,
"do you know when high tide will be"?

The skipper called loud and clear
as he motored toward the bow,
"my chart says high tide is 12:30 today,
which happens to be right now."

Several crew members groaned audibly
and calling the Coast Guard was suggested.
Matt said he wasn't convinced it was high tide,
and he had ideas that needed to be tested

Evidence that high tide had been reached
began to accumulate rapidly.
The current which had been slack,
began to flow southwesterly,
and the vessel began to heel over,
ever so sickeningly.

Call Joe the Plumber
It was about this time that the call of nature
began to strike the crew,
and then it was sadly discovered
that they had a wounded loo.

When word of this calamity spread,
there was grumbling among the crew.
Matt responded somewhat sheepishly,
"I knew there was something I needed to do."

The head was operated manually
to pump waste over the side.
But the valve was ruptured,
so no amount of pumping would now abide.

All good mariners know that, in a pinch
a 5 gallon bucket will do,
but as one might guess,
that had been left behind too.

The skipper was undismayed
for he had a plan,
ladies go to the stern,
and the bow is for each man.

Matt admonished the crew
"just forget about your pride,
for every good sailor learns
just to hang it over the side."

Attack of the Killer Dolphins
It was mid afternoon, the sun was beating down,
and the booze was kicking in.
Most of the crew members decided,
that the time was ripe for a swim.

The crew was feeling better frolicking in the sea,

when a small pod of dolphins cruised by.

Several greenhorns spotted them, and in unison

let loose a blood-curdling cry.

"Sharks, a big school

and they're heading our way.

Everyone out of the water,

or we'll make their day."

While the crew were all landlubbers,

they were back on the boat

in less than a New York minute.

It was like watching penguins 

vaulting onto an ice floe,

with a leopard seal in hot pursuit.

The Captain had remained on board

having a good view of this hilarious scene,

but he stifled a desire to laugh,

and chided the crew with a scream.

"You can't tell a shark from a dolphin,

now that's a sorry crew,

if we had a serious problem,

I hate to think what you might do."

Frigging with the Rigging

The sun and the tide were descending,

and the deck angle reached 45 degrees.

The sailors could neither stand nor walk,

but fortunately there were calm seas.

Then suddenly Matt exclaimed,

"I've got a plan,

but in order for it to work,

we'll need every woman and man."

"Now that the boat is heeled far over

we'll tie ropes to the top of the masts.

Then we'll pull down with all of our strength,

and we should be free at last."

So the plan was executed,

and the crew pulled mightily.

The boat did not move one inch,

but at least neither mast broke off,

And fell into the sea.

At this time a small outboard

came idling by.

The skipper looked at this bizarre scene,

and could hardly believe his eyes.

Here was a large wooden sailing vessel

lying on its side, like a mortally wounded beast.

The crew was in the water dangling from ropes,

was this a hashish feast?

The boater came alongside

and shouted out loud and clear,

" I hope you know what you're doing

for you seem to have no fear,

but we catch a lot of sharks from these waters,

at this time of the year."

In just a minute or two,

a crew member gave a loud shout,

"something bumped my leg,"

and again they all catapulted out.

Everyone was wet and miserable,

there was grumbling all about.

They asked Matt what was next,

since his plan hadn't quite worked out.

They finally badgered Matt

into calling the Coast Guard,

which he went below to do.

Everyone waited apprehensively,

they were in a veritable stew.

Matt returned and cheerily announced

that everything was O.K.

Since they weren't in imminent danger

the Coast Guard would be there,

just after sunrise next day.

This was bad news to most of the crew,

who, if they had their way,

would have ended this nightmare voyage

not tomorrow, but today.

Little did they realize

as they settled in for the night,

that what nature had in store for them,

would have given even real mariners a fright.

The Longest Night

Everyone was in misery as each one

suffered to some degree,

from sunburn and dehydration,

along with hunger and constipation.

The food was long gone

as were the water and Mountain Dew.

All that remained were

several cases of malty brew.

But now when a can was opened

it was sipped quite reluctantly.

Whereas several hours earlier,

each one had been savored lustily.

The crew was settled in for the night,

some above deck and some below.

It was bound to be uncomfortable,

but little did they know.

A fair westerly had blown all day,

and continued into the night.

Then two hours after sundown,

it diminished and grew light.

Then in short order

a buzzing sound was heard,

it was followed by a loud slap

and a most emphatic f-word.

The slapping and cursing

quickly escalated.

They were dumbfounded as they realized

that a horde of mosquitoes had invaded.

The two cans of bug spray on board

were quickly dissipated.

So the onslaught of the bloodsuckers

continued unabated.

Where the horde had come from
was the mystery.
But all local mariners knew
that near Anclote Key on a calm night,
was not the place to be.

A number of the crew thought about
escaping the mosquitoes
by taking a dip.
But, based on the warning they'd received
there could be just as many sharks as mosquitoes,
swarming around the ship.

Not surprisingly, it was decided
by each member of the crew,
that it was better to endure a thousand small bites,
than just a large one, or two.

Just when it seemed that things
couldn't get any worse,
they were visited by yet
another unexpected curse.

A lightning bolt streaked across the sky,
and the heavens reverberated.
the skies unleashed a torrential downpour,
while the winds quickly escalated.

Everyone crowded into the cabin
to escape the driving rain,
but they quickly discovered
that this effort was in vain.

The horizontal sheets of rain
blew right in the cabin door,
and through the leaky cabin roof
there came even more.

In no time at all,
they were soaked to the skin.
Matt tried to boost their spirits
with the following spin.

"Hey gang, this must be
our lucky day.
If not for this nice storm,
those mosquitoes would have carried us away."

That went over
like a lead ballon,
for the crew was now mired
in a pit of gloom.

Then one by one
the realization set in,
that their misery would increase,
as evaporation cooled their skin.

And even though the air temperature
was near 80 degrees,
the sodden sailors felt like
they were about to freeze.

Teeth were chattering,
and bodies were shuddering,
but the only warm things on board,
were the words they were muttering.

The crew did their very best
to will the interminable night away.
They even let out a mock cheer,
when they detected the first light of day.

Rescued at Last, Rescued at Last, Yada, Yada, Yada.
Just after sunrise, a small Coast Guard Cutter
came into view.
It was a most welcome sight
to the disheveled, and despairing crew.

The Cutter pulled up to the stricken vessel,
which was again lying on its side.
The Captain called out loud and clear,
"there's nothing we can do until high tide,
so we're heading back to port right now,
does anyone want a ride?"

Matt had to literally restrain them
from jumping off his ship.
Then slowly the transfer was executed
without anyone taking a dip.

As the Captain, Matt had to remain
and he was clearly in a stew,
for in addition to everyone else,
his wife left too.

The crew members all waved, albeit mockingly,
as the Cutter pulled away.
Mat gritted his teeth, turned his back,
and looked the other way.

Another voyage ended for the Captain,
with no taste of glory.
And to a long list there was added,
yet one more Matt MacWrong story.

Tiger's Taboos

.(Things that spectators, players, and broadcasters are prohibited from saying (or shouting) while Tiger is playing at the Masters this week.)

1. Get in the hole!

2. Never up, never in.

3.Boss of the moss.

4.Any reference to playing "head" games.

5. Any reference to Tiger's "length."

6. Any phrase that includes the words "strokes" or "stroking."

7. He put that one in there "stiff."(close to the pin.)

8. Any statement which might confuse the words "lie" or "lay."

In other words, Tiger cannot have a good "lie" or "lay,"

nor a bad "lie" or "lay." Got it!

The Donut Shop

(For many years, Mr Bill's Donut Shop was an institution in Tarpon Springs. Several years ago, at the age of 80 Mr Bill decided to sell out. The new owner's were not successful, and the business folded.)

Mr Bill's in the morning, was the place to be at dawning,
that's where all the heavy palaver was going down.
If you wanted to know who, where, when, why, and what for,
it was the virtual encyclopedia of this town

Each morning the pundits did gather, in their august manner,
to ponder the great questions of the day.
Did the Rays win last night, will they give the Yankees a fight,
and is Walmart really here to stay?

On any given day, the cast of characters might have included,
ex-pols, shipwrights, fish mongers, Greek chefs, psychologists,
cosmetologists, sponge clippers, pate nippers( barbers),

mechanics of assorted types,

and a variety of jack's-of-all-trades.

So with this much expertise, the free advice you received
was worth exactly what you paid.

Cathy served the coffee, while Ned and Blaine conspired

to keep the pot boiling.
They loved to give Cathy the needle,

while she was toiling.

On occasion, there were some hot words flying,
and if looks could kill, there would have been some dying.
But no bodies ever hit the floor.
It was all in fun, no one got sore(usually).

As for Mr Bill, he tended to remain quiet and mostly still.
He spoke softly, so when he tried to get a word in,
he could rarely be heard above the prevailing din.

So while the Donut Shop is no more,
it will remain part of the local lore.

The Kamikaze Redfish

Fishing trips can sometimes be memorable not because of the number or size of fish landed, but because something totally unexpected happens. About 40 years ago I was fishing off the north end of Anclote Key. My gear consisted of a live shrimp suspended beneath a bobber, on medium spinning tackle. I always enjoyed fishing with a bobber because I liked the way it would twitch slightly, and then descend beneath the surface as a fish took the bait. When that happened on this trip I set the hook with gusto, and the mono, which was probably 5 years old, parted just above the bobber. Since the bobber started to cruise along slowly, it was clear that I had hooked the fish. I quickly tied on a 52M Mirrolure and made a cast trying to snag the line below the bobber. There was an immediate hookup and, recognizing the frailty of my tackle, I gingerly brought the fish to the boat. I then netted a 20 inch Redfish. When I examined it I found that my lure was clamped firmly in its mouth, right next to my shrimp! So I had caught the one that got away, before it actually got away.

Verses for Ex's

(Do you ever want to give a shot to an ex, boss, spouse,lover, etc. You may be able to find just what you are looking for in this space, which will be a continuing feature. stay tuned.)

#1 When you used to be my boss,

I was never at a loss,

in determining exactly which part you were,

of the hoss.

#2 Dear------: When first we married,

you were a vision of loveliness,

so pretty and petite.

But now you have eaten

half the world,

and can't even see your feet(check it out).

#3 Roses are red, violets are blue,

sugar is sweet, and so were you.

But then one day you changed into another.

Oh my God, you became your mother!

From ----- to ------ what a switch,

from a sweet young thing,

to a conniving (b)witch.

You say quite emphatically that

you have no remorse or guilt,

and certainly no shame,

which is the reason for

your election to,

the Black Widow's Hall of Fame.

#4 In a time long ago,

and a place far away,

we became young lovers

and our passions seized the day.

The times were so sweet,

everything seemed to go our way,

even getting stuck in the mud while making out,

seemed a fair price to pay.

But time passed,

and eventually you lost your mind.

The last Tiger Woods joke

For years Tiger was known as one of the best long iron players in the game. But several years ago he discarded all of those clubs, and now relies exclusively on the long Wood.

Profiles in Color

#5 Baby Huey

Baby Huey the comic strip character,

was noted for his size.

Baby Huey the fisherman is renowned

for eating whole pies.

Most fisherman's reputations

are based on what they bring to shore.

Baby Huey was better known

for his trips to the grocery store.

He and his deckhand formed a grocery cart convoy,

which is how they did their shopping.

And when their rounds were completed,

a number of shelves needed restocking.

When they rolled up to the check-out

after their shopping foray,

if the tally was less than $500.

they had experienced a bad day.

After the provisions were stored,

it was time for one more sortie,

beer and cigarettes

were the final favors for the party.

Cigarettes were no problem

because they required no refrigerated space,

and money was saved by purchasing them

not by the carton, but by the case.

One case of beer per man per day,

was the ration that they took,

plus 4 cases in reserve,

for any days lost sitting on the hook.

When all the beer was stacked on board,

it was an awesome sight to see.

To keep the boat from listing

the cargo was distributed, equilaterally.

When they reached the fishing grounds

the first problem they had to face,

was that the fish-box was so full of groceries,

for fish there was no space.

So for the first few days of each excursion,

the fishing schedule was light,

and the serious eating started

with the first glimmer of daylight.

Baby Huey and his deckhand

were known for their gastronomical feats,

but they had to be pretty fair fishermen

just to pay for all of those eats.

Profiles in Color

4. Scoby Bill

Scoby Bill was a highliner

of considerable note,

but most noteworthy of all

was the name of his boat.

She was a sleek, fast-looking craft

that would never be mistaken for a trawler,

painted bright yellow from stem to stern,

she was named "THE MARIJUANA HAULER".

This was about 30 years ago, and Bill

must have been feeling pretty feisty.

If he was trying to get the Coast Guard's attention,

he succeeded precisely.

The expression "Drill Baby, Drill",

did not originate with the oil companies,

It started, instead, with the Coast Guard,

when they boarded Bill far at sea.

It wasn't long before "THE MARIJUANA HAULER"

started looking like Swiss cheese.

They drilled out so much wood

that she gained 2 knots of speed.

Eventually Bill got tired of

being boarded day after day,

but instead of changing the name,

he painted her battleship gray.

Many years later Captain Bill

was running the Scoby 2,

the Marine Patrol had boarded and said,

the fishbox needed going through.

The officer asked Bill if he had a shovel?

Bill said "right here", and promptly heaved it far out to sea.

The officer said "you can't do that".

Bill replied "why not? The damn thing belongs to me".

Bill thought he had won that round,

but the Law denied him victory.

They wrote him a citation

for discharging plastic into the sea.

Bill had to delay his next trip

while he searched everywhere that he could,

but he finally found just what he was looking for,

a shovel carved out of wood.

,

Now Hear This

Excerpts from my poem "Pretty Work" were published in the Poetry Corner column of the Crisfield Times on Feb 24, 2010. The entire poem is available on my website.(http://thecompletepoet.yolasitee.com) It is no. 4.

Profiles in Color

3. Captain Doom

Stefan is a man

so mired in gloom,

that it was inevitable

he'd be called "Captain Doom".

When the fishcrats started regulating

about 30 years ago,

Captain Doom started acting

like he was in the know.

It was as if he had seen

the whole movie before,

and he was just giving us clues,

about what was in store.

Conjure up a worst case scenario

regarding any fishery,

and according to Captain Doom,

that is the way it was going to be.

IFQ's, closures, and marine sanctuaries

are the fishcrats stock in trade,

and despite the fishermen's input

only their hand is played.

Regardless of our experience

catching fish from the sea,

the NMFS computer models

are the Fishcrats reality.

In the final analysis

we should give Captain Doom his due,

for most of his dire predications

turned out to be true.

So if we were to change his name today,

what would it be?

Instead of Doom,

it would be Captain Grim Reality.

Profiles in Color

#2 Dirty Dick

I was sitting at a bar

in a seaside town,

when in walks Dirty Dick,

and he's looking around.

He was a man of 70+ years

at the time,

and it became clear that his libido

was still working fine.

Dick spots two thirty-something ladies

at a table nearby.

So he walks right over,

but doesn't even say "hi."

Instead he says "ladies

I'm ready for a role in the hay,

and you both look good to me,

so I could go either way."

I could do one or two,

if you both want to play,

but menage a trois,

would really make my day.

So in propositioning females

we have to credit Dirty Dick,

with giving new meaning to the phrase,

"cut to the quick"

While he may not be handsome,

and is not exactly slick,

when it comes to chutzpah,

there's only one Dirty Dick.

Profiles in Color

(Commercial fishing has more than it's share of colorful characters,

and they typically sport equally colorful nicknames.)

#1.Offshore Bobby. Mr 11/64.

"Offshore Bobby" is well-known

for talking on the radio,

and one thing he doesn't lack

is braggadocio.

He's not shy about tooting

his own horn,

and anyone who sounds like a newbie

will get a full measure of scorn.

Sometimes Bobby talks too much

and goes too far.

Then he is challenged to meet someone

in a shore-side bar.

You don't need a Mensa-like

IQ score

to realize that Godzilla could be

coming through the bar-room door.

It is not a wise choice

to show up for these affairs.

and Bobby has had to undergo

several bodily repairs.

So has Bobby learned to tone down

his rhetoric on the radio?

Guess what?

The answer is no.

Bobby has a government card saying

that he is part Native American

by the fraction of 11/64.

When you cipher that out

it comes to 17 percent,

leaving 83 percent unaccounted for.

Had the Native Americans

been tallying the score,

they would have counted him a Gringo by 53/64.

For his game plan is as bad

as Custer's,

and we know who lost that war.

Adios Amigos

The decks are loaded,

and we're heading for the barn.

Then we hear that awful noise,

the frigging high water alarm.

We can't find the damn leak,

and are sinking fast

so we put out a Mayday,

hoping someone will save our ass.

We had been desperate to make a trip,

but our life raft was in for repair.

So we decided to go without it,

thinking that only the Coasties would care.

Suddenly we see a vessel coming at us

at a high rate of speed.

He obviously sees us,

so he's coming to do a good deed.

He's really hauling ass,

but goes right on by.

We scream at him on the VHF,

and here is his reply;

"I was scanning the radio,

and picked up your Mayday.

So I altered course,

and headed this way.

But we're hauling 500 kilos of coke

and have no time to play."

"You don't need to sweat it though,

because the Coast Guard is only 5 minutes behind,

and you can be sure that

they'll be coming right down this line."

"So while they're rescuing your sorry asses,

we'll make a clean getaway.

Adios amigos,

you have made our day."

This poem was awarded first prize in the on-site poetry contest

at the Fisher Poets Gathering in Astoria OR, Feb 26-28, 2010.

Flying Jumbos

(Here is a topic that has been in the news lately)

While sitting at the gate,waiting to board the plane,

I see a number of passengers,with wide-body frames.

To get down the aisle on the plane,

they have to sidle, turned to the side,

because straight on, their ass is too wide.

So, to the Flying Gods, I make this urgent plea.

Don't put one of those supersized flyers in the seat next to me.

(Several months later, on boarding my flight I found the window

and middle seats occupied by two Buddha-like flyers. I was left

with one-half of the aisle seat. I thought that maybe I was being

punished for my unkind thoughts. Nevertheless, it could have

have been worse. I could have had the window seat.)

Coastal Carolina Chanticleer's Rule the Coop

Yes a Chanticleer is a rooster, but we ain't no stinking chickens.

If you try messing with our turf, we'll peck you like the dickens.

And those obnoxious S.C. Gamecocks, who are really girly-men,

they have no more cajones than a Cornish Game Hen.

We are determined to go to a bowl game someday.

The Rose Bowl would be our first choice, and the Outback would be OK

but we want no part of the Chick-Fil-A.

And no matter how formidable our opponent, we will never run and hide,

our victory is assured, because we have PETA on our side.

Best in Class

As is plain for all to see, -------- is a comely lass.

And there is one notable category, in which she cannot be surpassed.

When it comes to bending over a beer cooler, she is the best in class.

Just in case you don't know what I'm saying,

the message that I am conveying,

is that in addition to lots of class,

she sure has a mighty fine --- derriere.

So given her radiant smile, and her form-fitting jeans,

it's a beautiful sight either way,

whether she's arriving or departing the scene.

Potty Mouth

If you want to talk to someone who's been too long at sea,

then the man you should seek, is named Captain Skippy.

While he isn't vivacious, and is sometimes not even gracious,

you can be sure that he is, unfailingly salacious.

So if you are inclined to blush

Skippy will surely give you a rush.

But can he deliver on those things he talks about?

That's for me to know, and you to find out.

Yugo

A new book about the Yugo has been published. It's called "The Yugo, the rise and fall of the worst car in history" by Jason Vuic. The best line is "What is included in every Yugo's owner's manual? A bus schedule.

Bluefins or Blue Pills?

Shark fins are prized because they are said to enhance virility.

This may also be true of many other creatures,that live in the depths of the sea.

There are a host of marine species that are models of fecundity.

One set of parents with millions of offspring is not a rarity.

Perhaps all that fishermen need is a new marketing strategy.

Rather than fish mongers, we'll call them marine apothecaries,

so instead of selling seafood, they'll prescribe Viagra from the sea.

One hundred milligrams of oysters please!

Voice Mail

"This is the 911 operator. Listen carefully to the following menu. If your problem involves domestic violence, press 1. If this is a medical emergency, press 2. If your house is on fire,

press 3. etc. etc."

The D.O.T. (Don't Often Toil)

The D.O.T. is the place you want to be

if you are one of the three standing idly,

watching the one man with the shovel.

But it isn't quite the same, if you're the one in the hole,

digging like a mole, and your ass is all wet,

from the dripping sweat.

The sun is beating down, and your knuckles are turning brown.

Your boss is a clown who doesn't know what's up,

but sure as hell know's which way is down.

Tabby and Fido in China

If you have cats in China, you cannot have too many,

because before you know it, you may not have any.

And there is one rule that all dog owner's know,

when you're holding the leash, for God's sake don't ever let go!

In fact, there's no critter of any hue,

that might not end up in the stew.

Older,Yes. Wiser?

The Pennsylvania Dutch have many quaint sayings,

that are usually terse, and quite often tart.

Their assessment of aging is right on the money,

for we surely do "get too soon old,"

and way "too late smart."

speechless in Alaska

Sarah Palin says that the reason she quit as Governor of Alaska, is that the winter's are so cold she had to wear gloves, which left her speechless.