The Vanishing Mind: Life, with dementia behind bars

      Good Day Humboldt County!

 The path to prison life is littered with mistakes – or intentional unlawful actions – that result in a rapidly growing prisoner population.

  Do you know that we incarcerate more people than any other country in the world? That we are prison central?

  This results in many problems, as you can surmise. Today, we’re going to look at one aspect of prison life that not too many of us are aware of. Have you ever wondered what happened to those prisoners who have Alzheimer’s disease and  other types of dementia. The following story first appeared in The New York Times on Feb. 25th, and has since been picked up by numerous other outlets.

I think you’re going to be surprised when you read this story. It’s a tale of redemption for the very worst behind bars. It’s a sneak peak at a world none of us would ever see otherwise. Compassion and understanding coming from convicted killers makes you realize they are still human beings.

Snippet:       

“Secel Montgomery Sr. stabbed a woman in the stomach, chest and throat so fiercely that he lost count of the wounds he inflicted. In the nearly 25 years he has been serving a life sentence, he has gotten into fights, threatened a prison official and been caught with marijuana.

Despite that, he has recently been entrusted with an extraordinary responsibility. He and other convicted killers at the California Men’s Colony help care for prisoners with Alzheimer’s disease and other types of dementia, assisting ailing inmates with the most intimate tasks: showering, shaving, applying deodorant, even changing adult diapers.”     (read the whole story here)

Time for me to walk on down the road…

Monkeys snatch cocktails from beachgoers, get wasted

Do you recall the phrase, “More fun than a barrel of monkeys?”

Imagine then, a barrel full of drunk monkeys! Now that would be entertaining.

Seeing as they are getting free drinks the least the silly simians could do would be to tip the waiters!

News Snippet:

“A video of monkeys getting drunk in the Caribbean might sound like it's solely for entertainment, but this BBC "Weird Science" footage of intoxicated vervet monkeys snatching drinks from unsuspecting beachgoers is unexpectedly informative.

While some monkeys go straight for the mai tais, others will only drink Fanta -- it turns out this group's population of nondrinking monkeys is roughly proportional to the teetotaling population in humans, which suggests that our alcohol preferences and tolerances are largely determined by our genetic makeup.

The scientists also observed that monkeys who are heavy drinkers might become better leaders; maybe they'll be mixing their own drinks soon.” (Source)

Part II: Rat bastard’s eventual fate and Viking sendoff…

After a barrage of emails inquiring what happened to the rat bastard, the answer is we discovered his body rolled up in the shower curtain (it had been thrown up over the rail to avoid touching the tub) when we pulled it back down looking for him. An anti-climatic plop! Then it was over. Well, not quite over…

We both felt kinda bad about killing him. Because of rat bastard’s Norwegian lineage it was decided to give him a real Viking fiery sendoff.First however, we looked up his ancestral backround.

Note the family coat of arms.Rat bastard descended from a long line of rat bastards whose roots in castles make them royal pains-in-the-asses!

We lovingly made this replica (above) of a Viking ship for rat bastard’s final send off. It took hours of dedicated work and attention to detail - dee tail. 

It was a real challenge trying to find an albino rat bastard willing to dress up and do the ancient chants for our deceased rat bastard. I won’t even go into how much cheese it took to pull this deal off other than to acknowledge he’s getting a life supply of sharp cheddar.

Because we knew there would be a large turnout for rat bastard’s funeral, we opened a small Rat Bastard Souvenir stand.

                                  Here are a few of the items we had for grieving mourners:

The hottest item was the packets of rat bastard poop at five bucks a pop.

The rat bastard stuffed doll was another item that was snatched up by saddened attendees.

The kids really liked listening to the old vinyl record playing the Adventures of Rat Bastard’s younger years.

Probably one of the most creative items offered were these tiny rat bastard masks made from slivers he chewed off of a our bathroom door!

Out here in the boonies we recycle everything.Needless to say it was a touching event as we launched the ship with rat bastard’s noble little ass in it! We soaked it in gasoline, after it floated out for a few feet, the guests shot miniature flaming arrows at it. A loud poooof!!!! And it was off to Vermin Valhalla.

 

Along with Shirley’s high wailing cries of grief, some of us chanted:

 “Hail Odin! Hail Thor!

  This is what you get when you sneak through our back door!”

So now you all know...the rest of the story!

Things I hope never to see in public - Part I: Large naked women stomping through driver’s windshields

I don’t know about you, but there’s things I hope to never run across while I’m out in public. The list is quite long, so I’m going to have to share examples one at a time to give each full exposure (pun intended).

My first example ( story below) scarred my brain (I admit it was the photo) even though I wasn’t personally there! It also cured my recent case of chronic hiccups!

Snippet: 

“It's hard to know who's having the worse day here: the naked woman stomping on this car or the guy the car belongs to. “The woman had been removed from a light-rail train wearing nothing but her shoes and was being evaluated by medical personnel when she "threw off the blanket that had been wrapped around her," according to SFist, and climbed on the hood of John Knight's Volvo before kicking in his windshield.

Knight won't be pressing charges against the woman; his biggest challenge might be convincing his insurance company of exactly how the damage occurred: "They didn't really know what to make of it," he said.”

Photo by Paula Maxa of said woman in action. [SF Gate]

The adventures of a rat bastard and his eventual fate…

           Good Day Humboldt County!

 How’d you like to walk down memory lane with me to read a short story that will hopefully amuse you today? I broke it up into two parts for quick reads. Here’s Part I:

  It all started last March when one big-assed Norwegian rat migrated from our Conex box and slunk into our house through the back door!

We had the Conex box open – airing it out – because I had discovered rat shit droppings near a plastic trash can that had a hole eaten through the base! Bit’s and pieces of plastic, and garbage were strewn about as the little rat bastard had feasted! It was my first time dealing with a rat, and I intended to make sure it would the last time. I found a hole gnawed through the wooden floor and plugged it up.

As fate would have it, the back door to our house was open because my wife, Shirley, was doing some early spring cleaning, and was going back and forth with small rugs to be beaten into submission. Sometime, in a six hour stretch, the rat bastard slunk into the house. We didn’t know it that day. The next morning, as we sat and enjoyed our first cup of coffee, nature called and I went into the downstairs bathroom located in the rear of the house. Oh, the horror! There was rat shit on the floor and in the bath tub! I was stunned and aware that the rat in the Conex box had somehow invaded our house!

White-faced, I walked out into the living room and informed Shirley about our new house guest. She understandably freaked out. We both went back to the bathroom for further investigation. I went in and shut the door while Shirley gave words of encouragement from the other side. I moved the cupboard, looked behind it.

Nothing but rat shit. No holes. I then checked the walls around the baseboard for entry ways. Nothing. I opened one of the drawers and a big fat-assed Norway rat wrinkled his whiskers at me! His beady black eyes stared me down defiantly while his long whiskers waved obscenely – seemingly testing the air and my mood. Then he dove underneath the stack of hand towels. Okay. That verified that. I really had a rat, and it looked like he was preparing to take up permanent residence!

During my inspection, and upon my discovery, I was giving Shirley a running commentary – “Okay you rat bastard...you came inside the wrong house! When I see you...wait! What’s that stirring under the towels? Arrrrgggggggg! Shirley! I found the rat and it looks like he has an attitude!

Loud moans outside the door as she heard the news. If there’s one thing Shirley hates more than snakes, it’s rats.

I stepped back outside, carefully closing the door. The rat bastard didn’t get by me. I went and got a pair of heavy gloves and a steel pot with a lid. Yes, I was going to give him a chance to live and catch him, then take him outside. I intended to free him about a mile down the street in one of my neighbor’s yards. But Nooooo!

He took one quick look at me when I opened the drawer, wiggled his whiskers, and jumped out! The race was on (in a very confined space). It was over as suddenly as it started when he dashed around the baseboard and suddenly disappeared! Perplexed, and pissed, I carefully got down on my arthritic knees and studied the entire baseboard on all three walls. I took all three drawers out of the cupboard and carefully searched the contents of the top shelf. No rat bastard! Nothing. I took the entire closet out of the bathroom. There was nowhere to hide when I was done. The fourth wall was the tub.

Still nothing. Oh shit! Was I going crazy? It was time to step outside and consult with Shirley who was muttering, “The little f**ker... f**ker...f**ker!”

Throughout this process I was encouraged by Shirley’s constant reminders to “Get the little f**ker!” Now, it’s only fair to point out Shirley doesn’t use the “F Bomb” often, but when she does it flows like a river....”The little f**ker! He’s invaded my house! F**ker! F**ker! F**ker” It wasn’t pretty to hear.

Meanwhile, I’m having my own issues. As most of my family, friends, and readers know, I have PTSD. Certain things sometimes bother me so bad I have flashbacks. When I came face to snout with that rat bastard I flashed onto some very terrible experiences I had in Vietnam where I saw rats feasting on NVA and VC bodies. My stress level peaked in seconds. But the worst was yet to come.

I couldn’t find the rat bastard. Where was he? How was it possible he could just disappear like that? I had peered up the bathroom facet (shades of staring down holes in the ground that led to tunnels) and turned the hot water on thinking maybe he was hiding up there and I’d scald his furry ass! No such luck. Shirley went from swearing directly into a cleaning frenzy. She bleached the living room floor, and the hallway adjoining the bathroom. That was just a warm-up. All the dust covers came off the couch, love seat and chair, and were marched upstairs and put in the washer – set on sterilize.  All the furniture was moved and both big floor throw rugs rolled up and taken outside.

Bleach went on the kitchen table, counter, and the cupboards near the baseboard. All food that was on the counter (fruits and such) was thrown out. All walls were wiped down. Who knew where the rat went last night before settling in his comfy bed in the bathroom closet? The very thought drove her to distraction. Nothing was safe now, until she bleached it. Our slippers and socks. End tables and lamps. Bar stools and chairs that went with the kitchen table were wiped down thoroughly. Anywhere she suspected that rat might have gone was bleached with a vengeance.

By now, I was pissed off enough to go out and buy a rat trap, and rat poison cubes. I set the trap. A while later we checked on it. The cheese was gone. The trap still intact, waiting patiently to snap shut. Yet, the rat pellets proved he had a quick meal with no repercussions! So I set it again, thinking I missed something the first time. The same scenario resulted.

Then I tried peanut butter. Surely the little rat bastard would set it off when he tried to get that sticky bait ...right? Hell no. He licked it clean - and if rats could write, he would have left me a thank you note for the tasty treat.

It became obvious I wasn’t setting the trap correctly, or this was one smart-assed rat like in the book “Willard.” I gave up on the trap and hoped Plan B – the little block of rat poison I put in one corner, would work. We continued to check the bathroom the next day, but the poison block remained untouched. Understandably I suppose, as I had served up a three-course meal on a platform he didn’t fear. During one of these inspections Shirley made a discovery!

She found the spot where the rat bastard must have been hiding! Beneath the sink counter, along the floor board, there’s a tiny opening (you have to look up underneath the cabinet to spot it) that leads into a crawlspace (about four inches deep) at the base of the cabinet. Busted! Now we knew where the rat bastard was hiding. We decided to give the poison a chance overnight, and went to bed with rat bastards dancing in our dreams!

The next morning came. The tension built. I slowly opened the bathroom door watching the floor intently. A quick scan of the room. No rat poison block! It was gone! Disappeared, and I knew where. I hoped he enjoyed his last meal (it takes between 3-4 days to kill them, according to the instructions). Of course, as you probably have guessed by now, I’ll have to take the cabinet apart to get his dead rat ass out. That’s okay. Shirley is already talking about getting a band new cabinet that will go better with the paint job in there!

This is NOT THE END of this story. Stay tuned for Part II tomorrow: Because of rat bastard’s Norwegian lineage it was decided to give him a real Viking send-off. Special sidebar: you’ll never guess where we found him!

Time for me to walk on down the road…

Cash Mobs: Reprieves for struggling Mom & Pop businesses

 By Dave Stancliff/For The Times-Standard
I enjoy living behind The Redwood Curtain. National trends usually take time before they penetrate our backwoods paradise in northern California, but that’s okay. In Humboldt County we lead a slower way of life for numerous reasons.
To name just three; fewer people, only one major highway that seldom has traffic jams, and we don’t have all the entertainment and shopping found in more populous part of the state.
 When I recently discovered a growing phenomenon called “Cash Mobs” it was one of the few times I regretted our isolation. I quickly recovered however, and am thrilled to share with you what they’re about.
  The first took place in August at City Wine Merchant in Buffalo, N.Y., organized by Chris Smith, an engineer who also writes for ArtVoice, a Buffalo arts blog. Since then, the idea has spread to cities like San Diego, where cash mobbers converged recently at Fiesta De Reyes, a mall in a state historic park; Warwick, Rhode Island.; Cleveland, Ohio; Columbia, South Carolina; and Austin, Texas.

  A cash mob is the modern equivalent of a community barn-raising, like those in the old west when a community came together to help one of its members build a house or barn.

The story that inspired me to pass on this new trend started on a stretch of Chapman Road in Knoxville, Tenn., where locals rallied to help Emery's 5 & 10 store (photo below left). It’s believed to be the oldest family-owned five-and-dime store in the U.S.
The recession had been hard on the store, and when a bridge construction project diverted traffic away from it, the store was deserted, according to Knox County Mayor Tim Burchett.

But fortune smiled when Mayor Burchett watched late-night TV and saw a report on "cash mobs" — flash mobs that organize to bring customers to struggling locally owned businesses.  He told NBC station WBIR, “A light bulb went off. Somebody was doing something at a hardware store in the Northeast, and I just thought: 'Dadgum. We ought to do that right here in Knoxville.’”
 A light bulb went off for me too, when I read this. Why can’t we have “cash mobs” here to help our small businesses? I’ve always supported the local economy in every way possible, and I’d love to see some of our struggling businesses get a break.
 It’s easy to do. There are actually unofficial rules. They’re available at Cash Mobs blog. I highly recommend visiting the site if you want to know how an event like this can be organized.

On March 24, 2012, Cash Mobs blog is calling for National Cash Mob action. The idea is to organize mobs in small communities across the country for the day. It can be all day (like Chagrin Falls, Ohio plans) or more Flash Mobbish (like Bellport, Long Island, New York).
I’m not suggesting this is a long term solution, but it could mean staying open when the wolf is at the door. It might make the difference to a Mom & Pop store and buy time to come up with a strategy to stay in business.
I’m appealing to anyone who wants to show their appreciation for our lifestyle to help the local  business community and organize a Cash Mob. How about a community group? I’d think something like this would fit in with service organizations like Rotary really well.

I seldom ask readers to get on any bandwagon. I’m not a “joiner” myself. Yet, there are times when I’ll ask readers to support a cause. Supporting local business is one of those times.
It’s no secret. The Great Recession has staggered the business community on the north coast. Take a stroll through the Eureka Mall to get a feeling for the impact. Empty storefronts outnumber active businesses. Look around where you live. Is there a Mom & Pop business you think deserves help in these troubled times?
  As It Stands, I’d also like to give a shoutout to Humboldt bloggers - ‘What do you say? Would you like to make someone’s day?’

Here’s some websites that have picked up this column:

1) California Newswire (Page 6)

2) New York Messenger Service

3) WaterIntell.com Water

Vintage Illusions: Oldies but Goodies still Baffle Brains

The concept of optical illusion is as old as man himself. Notwithstanding the lack of any written trace the first human beings certainly would have noticed optical phenomena such as mirages, the size of the Moon at its zenith, sticks or poles which appear to be broken in two when half immersed in water, or a negative image after having looked at the sun.
Vintage Illusions are still mind bogglers despite the years. Here’s three examples:

Published as a postcard, this work (left) by James Montgomery Flagg from 1913 is called “Map of the World”. As you can see (in the planisphere) a girl’s face is hidden. The artist is better known as the poster artist who created the image of a finger pointing Uncle Sam with the slogan “I want you!”.

The Painter Salvador Dalí is the author of a great many surreal canvasses, also of this photomontage (right), created from two photos which show some skiers coming down a slope and a box or bed of puppies.
The bodies of the skiers becoming the eyes and noses of the puppies…

 
Yes, our grandfathers too were great teases and appreciated 'subtle' naughty allusions and jokes!
Like this drawing which plays on the ambiguity of bald headed gentlemen that appear also as the large chest of the lady.
Postcards with optical allusions such as this were in the early past of the last century printed in their millions.
text & graphics source

Tear Off Those Ties! There’s No Good Reason To Wear Them…

The word from the WiseFather today:

“In today’s edition of Crap You Don’t Need, I bring you the necktie.
For some reason, men (and occasionally some women) are forced to wear a strip of overpriced fabric around their necks.  Before I investigate the true origins of this custom, here is some wild speculation.
Ties demonstrate the wearer’s willingness to submit to asinine traditions.  It sends a good message when you show up to your interview wearing your own leash.  If this guy conforms to this, he’ll have no problem with wage slavery.
Perhaps ties are a phallic symbol.   It could explain why it’s a guy thing.  It could also explain why some people find women wearing neckties kind of creepy.  Either she’s growing one (not that there’s anything wrong with that) or she’s appropriated one in a Lorena Bobbit way and has decided to make it an accessory.   For the younglings out there, go ahead and Google Lorena Bobbit.  You’ll have a good laugh or a nightmare; maybe both.
If the necktie idea is phallic,  I fear the trend setters will one day evolve their custom and force us to wear erect ties.  The style will be called “The Dilbert.”

It will make eating difficult, and we will eventually be banned from wearing ties while driving. However, the engineering involved in creating such a marvel would be interesting to see. I’ve heard they are doing wonderful things with carbon nanotubes.
Now, scanning the interwebs about the true origin of the necktie reveals that the custom has no practical purpose.  That’s right:  you’re not wearing that fancy silk tie to keep food off your less expensive shirt.  It’s all fashion.

Finally, here’s a more sensible reason

for wearing a tie…

News with No Views: Scattered Snippets from the Hinterlands

Happy birthday to actor Abe Vigoda, who turns 91 today! Yes, Abe Vigoda is still alive. No, I’m not kidding.

Vigoda's longevity has turned him into a punchline, a standing joke representing all those actors and actresses who are still with us, but seem perhaps like they might have passed on years before.

No insult to the man intended, but when there's a website (abevigoda.com) solely devoted to which side of the dirt you're waking up on, you've got to acknowledge and have fun with it.

                                   ***

The term "red tape" has many mythical origins, but the National Archives believes it has the right answer: red ribbons were used to bind piles of government documents dating back to the Civil War. Opening the files required someone to "cut through" the red tape.

                                                                          ***

Just how long a relationship will last can be predicted by the amount of "love hormone" in the bloodstream of a newly smitten person, a new study says. Researchers measured levels of oxytocin in people who had recently begun relationships. Six months later, the couples with the higher levels of oxytocin tended to still be together, while the others had split.

                                                                       ***

Your cell phone and your shoes have whole communities of microbes living on them, as distinctive as the germs on your fingers and in your mouth. Among the bacteria that typically live in your pocket are the relatives of nasty bugs that can cause pneumonia, meningitis and gonorrhea. In contrast, the soles of your shoes could harbor bacteria related to E. coli, salmonella and the microscopic critters that cause pink eye.

 

 

The ‘Vomit Comet’ is coming soon – Will you be ready?

  Good Day Humboldt County!

The future has always fascinated people and guessing what it’ll be like has been a favorite subject of science fiction writers since Jules Verne.

The road to roller coaster fame is dotted with such legends as “The Cyclone” at the Pike in Long Beach (below) during its glory days, and Coney Island’s “Hurricane” that left more than one rider puking their guts up. It seems people never get tired of screaming and hurling in the name of entertainment. Make ‘em sick, and they’ll come back. Here’s the latest way to lose your lunch:   

“Think about the tallest, wildest roller coaster you've ever been on. If a Southern California design firm has its way, you haven't felt anything yet. BRC Imagination Arts is proposing a "zero gravity" roller coaster that would give thrill seekers a stomach-churning ride including at least eight seconds of microgravity.

The proposed ride takes cues from NASA's KC-135A aircraft, which was used to train astronauts and test equipment for spaceflight. The aircraft, nicknamed "the Vomit Comet," flew specific flight paths to mimic various states of microgravity.”

The Vomit Comet would be more than a theme park attraction according to it’s creators:

“While the Vomit Comet would be primarily for entertainment, Bob Rogers, BRC's founder and chief creative officer can foresee scientific and research applications. Experiment time on NASA's KC-135A, or other planned suborbital vehicles, is expensive and can sometimes involve a lengthy testing and approval process, he noted.”

Time for me to walk on down the road…