The Sad and Untimely Demise of Captain Richard Head

Writen by Carolyn Magura

Before I went onto full time LTD and SSDI, I had my DREAM job. I was the first female part owner/VP Human Resources for an American Ship Repair Yard. We employed over 2,500 employees; 24/7 operations; 11 unions, and lots of turmoil!!!

My agreement with the Managers who fixed ships was simple: I did people; they did big metal “things”.

It was a rainy Wednesday, end of October night - around 8:00 pm. We had a ship in for repair with an English Capt., Head, and his wife aboard (they traveled the world together). They were out for a stroll, and, for whatever reason, were walking down the middle of the one way street leading out of the Ship Repair Yard. 8 pm is “lunch time” for Swing Shift; and, they only get 30 minutes.

A young man working in the Yard for a Contractor came tearing out of the yard going way over the speed limit, trying to drive while wiping the windshield. He felt a thud, and stopped the car - only to discover that he had hit and, regretably killed - Capt. Head. I got a call at home about 3 am to come into the Yard and “deal” with the situation, since I did “people”. I came in, dealt with the police, the grieving widow, the hospital, etc. Got the widow into a downtown hotel; contacted her family in England and arranged to get them tickets to fly over to stay with her; went home for a few hours of sleep.

Now remember, the customer is always right. So, the next day, Thursday, I met with the family, and the widow wanted to have an open casket, full Catholic Mass, Memorial Service, the next day, in the Yard, so that the Ship’s company could say one last good-by to the Capt. I had already priced caskets, embalming, cremation, etc., and when I started to convey the information to the family, the “Ship’s Representative” - our “customer” said: “They no pay; you pay!”

I thought OK, but I wonder what Accounting was going to think when they saw my next month’s VISA statement wherein I charged a casket, embalming, and cremation onto it!!!!!

I leave the family; make arrangements with the Funeral Parlor to prepare the Capt. for the service the next evening - Friday - for a 6 pm service. Now, the only place within the Yard suitable for the service was a nice room off of our Company Cafeteria. And, the only door wide enough to accept a coffin was the one that would lead the coffin through the kitchen. So, I had to call the State Health Dept. to make sure that I wasn’t violating any health codes by wheeling a casket through the kitchen (and I wasn’t as long as the body was embalmed).

Now, that Friday, as luck would have it, was Halloween. And, remember this is a rough and tumble, grubby ship repair Yard!! Just years before the yard would host Halloween parties with an open casket filled with ice and booze! And, even though we were kinder and gentler now, I didn’t want the Swing Shift to see a group in the all windowed room off of the Cafeteria with an open casket! So, we purchased and figured out how to hang drapes.

Then, I remembered that I needed to find a Priest! Took a while to find one at the last minute~ It is finally Friday, around noon. I panic, remembering that I don’t have any appropriate “funeral Catholic Mass” music to play, and run to the nearest Mall’s music shop. I ask for funeral music, forgetting, momentarily that it is Halloween, and the clerk tries to sell me the Monster Mash. I explain and get the correct music; get back to the Yard and get the room set up for the Service. Dash home to change clothes; dash back to the Yard, where I remembered that I had to pay the Priest for his services!!

So, I dash to Accounting and ask for a check made out to the Priest, and receive the wierdiest looks - until I remembered that not all folks working in the Yard knew about the upcoming Memorial Service.

Get back to the room; all arrive and the Service begins. Now, I hope you realize how serious an event this is. I had preped the Priest, that the Capt.’s name was Richard Head. But his family came from the UK, and they insisted in calling him, throughout the service by his nickname, Dick. I was horrified when folks in the service put the two names together, in “American slang”, and started snickering. Well, we got through the Service; we had arranged for light food afterwards, and the evening ended, with all satisfied.

Observations: first of all, I challenge any other HR Executive to have this type of task to perform! Second of all, this is a True Story! Only in an American Ship Repair Yard can you have a full Catholic Mass Memorial Service for Capt. Dick Head on Halloween.

About DisabilityKey.com

The Disability Key Website ( http://www.disabilitykey.com ) is designed to assist each person in his/her own unique quest to navigate through the difficult and often conflicting and misleading information about coping with a disability.

Carolyn Magura, noted disability expert, has written an e-Book documenting the process that allowed her to:

a) continue to work and receive her “full salary” while on Long Term Disability; and

b) become the first person in her State to qualify for Social Security Disability the FIRST TIME, in UNDER 30 DAYS.

To download Carolyn’s e-book, click on the following link: http://www.disabilitykey.com/products.htm

It’s Time to Exempt Me From Income Tax

Writen by John T Jones, Ph.D.

I’m 74 years old. Why do I still have to fill out income tax forms? Doesn’t President Bush know I hate it?

The President likes lowering taxes. Why not drop income taxes on pensions, annuities, and Social Security. That would let a lot of us old folks off the hook for life. It should start the day you turn 70 years old. He could set a limit of $50,000.00 to keep everybody happy. The rich people would have to keep paying. They don’t do their own taxes anyway.

All in favor of the above proposal say, “YEP! I’M IN!”

What would we do if we didn’t have tax software?

I still have to guess sometimes at what the correct answer should be to a question my tax software asks me, but if the error checker says all is okay, I agree. I transmit the form to the BIG “G” and the State of Idaho, and I’m done.

Sometimes, after I send in my return, I get a letter back from BIG “G.” It says that I’ve made a mistake.

Sometimes it actually corrects the error for me for me and asks if I agree with BIG “G.”

I always tell my good friends at IRS that they are correct and say, “Check enclosed.”

I think that once I paid too much and they increased my refund. Most of the time, they lower my refund. As long as I’m done for the year, I could care less.

Let me tell you why I love the IRS. I may be the only one that can say that.

When I graduated from the University of Utah for the first time in 1957 I was as poor as a church mouse.

(Writers: that’s what we mean by a cliche. Never use them.)

My boss paid the first month’s rent on the house.

The son of the local car dealer took the $1.37 I had in my pocket for down payment on a 1939 Chevy convertible.

(That Green Demon would climb from Golden, Colorado up Lookout Mountain-where Buffalo Bill is or is not buried-in high gear. Some of the high school kids who had been looking at the car about died when I drove it off the lot with my wife our first son.)

Back to the subject: So we were doing pretty good after I got a check for $135.00 for my first week’s work. All was well until tax time in 1958.

Because I had earned money during the first six months of the previous year and not paid any taxes, my new job put me in a higher tax bracket and I owed $300.00. I may as well have owed a million, I had no extra money to blow on the IRS.

I waited until the last minute to send in my tax forms. I wrote a note that told the IRS that I owed $300.00 and that $50.00 was enclosed for the first of 6 installments.

I got a quick answer from the IRS.

I was told that the IRS had no way to take installment payments. That was followed by a letter saying that IRS was coming after everything we had.

I wrote back with my next month’s check of $50.00 that we really had nothing of value, but they could do what they had to do.

I got another letter. It said IRS had no way to handle our $50.00 installment payments.

I sent them another $50.00 on schedule and told them that I had some very good news in that someone in the IRS had handled my previous checks and they should have that person handle this one.

I didn’t hear another word from the IRS until the last check was due. They were coming after me. I sent them the last check and thanked them for treating me so well; handling my checks every month even though they had no way to do it.

From this day I think the guy handling my account had decided I was doing the best I could and he held back several monthly form letters until I got to the last month.

I never heard from the IRS again on that matter.

I’ve heard from them a number of times since as I stated earlier. I’ve never had a bad experience with that organization. I’m sure that if I went in for an audit they would show me the deductions that I didn’t bother to make over the years and would give me a check that would send me and my wife to Hawaii.

I always say, be good to the IRS and they will be good to you.

I know that as soon as the White House Chief of Staff reads this article he will run into the President’s office and say, “Mr. President. I think I know how the Republicans can assure the next election.”

Well, I don’t know which party will win the next election. I chose the option to contribute to a political party. I checked a party for my wife and a party for me. Naturally they were the same party. Wrong! We’ve been canceling each other out for years. They never should have given the women the right to vote.

I’m only joking, Ladies. Lighten up!

John T. Jones, Ph.D. (tjbooks@hotmail.com, a retired VP of R&D for Lenox China, is author of detective & western novels, nonfiction (business, scientific, engineering, humor), poetry, etc. Former editor of Ceramic Industry Magazine. He calls himself “Taylor Jones, the hack writer.”

More info: http://www.tjbooks.com

Business web site: http://www.dumbincome.com.

International Terrorism Must Be Defined, Confronted and Culled When Found

Writen by Lance Winslow

If we are to beat international terrorism and rid this evil from the planet then we need to have a more clear definition of what international terrorism really is. Then and only then can we confront it and make a resolution of all nations of the world that international terrorism on civilian populations is unacceptable and it will not be tolerated.

We know that international terrorism often as nation state sponsors. For instance; Iran sponsors Hezbollah and Hamas. This is unacceptable and cannot be tolerated and yet the United Nations and the Security Council will not agree to do anything about, while innocent people are killed by suicide murderous bombers and its this goes on week after week.

Either the United Nations and all countries around the world stand up against international terrorism and confront it or the United Nations began to those nations that sponsor international terrorism and those nations, which sit by and let it happen live in the greatest hypocrisy of the present period. We owe it to ourselves not to allow this sham of humanity to thrust itself into future periods.

If we fail to address international terrorism, to define international terrorism and to confront international terrorism, then we have failed humanity. We must wipe out to international terrorism once and for all, has no human being to live in fear or fear of their family being killed for some crazy radical fundamentalist religious cause.

Either we respect human life or we’re living a lie. It is time for the United Nations and all nations of the world to prevent international terrorist attacks against humanity. Consider this in 2006.

Lance Winslow

The Chinese American Without a Chinese Name

Writen by Jenny Parker

I walked up to the customs agent’s counter in Beijing International airport, and mindlessly handed the customs agent my passport. He then mindlessly did his thing with my passport. It was supposed to be a quiet transaction, but he broke the silence when he looked up and asked if I still use my Chinese name in America. With a blank look on my face, I began to consider supplying him with an answer he might like to hear, but he didn’t give me enough time to think and he answered for me that that I must not use my Chinese name anymore. My passport was handed back to me with a smile. He then wished me a pleasant journey and pointed me to the three long security checkpoints reserved for US bound passengers. While standing in line, I thought about my long-lost Chinese name and how unattached I am to my Chinese name….

Born in 1969 in communist China, my parents promptly decided to name me after something that had something to do with Chairman Mao. Not that they thought of him as a great leader, but rather out of fear. They picked a little known poem by Mao, which allowed them to show enough dedication to Mao without being reminded too much of him. My name was the first character of the three character title of this poem. (They actually needed to have three children to qualify for Mao’s poem, but they stopped at two. My sister’s name was the second character of the title, but her character is better known.) They clearly went too far with their quest, not only did most people fail to associate my name properly with Chairman Mao, but most people simply don’t know the character that is my name.

As a young child in China, it always surprised me if someone could pronounce my name correctly without being told first. I regarded anyone who knew my name as certainly the most learned and intelligent. They would often ask anyway how I got such a little known character as a name and I would politely repeat the origin of my name, including that I only have one sibling and that I don’t actually know the poem itself, just the title. I also endured numerous longer and more colorful dialogs about my name between my mother and other curious people. Once in a while, my parents would apologetically explain that my name was selected to protect me, but I am certain that my name had not once protected me when I got myself in trouble.

I came to America just in time to start 8th grade, and by then my Chinese name had been loosely “translated” phonetically into English. Now it really sounds nothing like my name, even when I say it. On quite a few occasions, I was completely oblivious when someone was calling for me. One day, my grandmother suggested to me that since I live in America now, it would be easier to have an English name. I thought this was an excellent idea. The very first name she suggested was “Jenny,” and I said okay. Finally, I had a name that is simple, modest, and best of all, does not call attention to itself.

When I got married, since my husband isn’t Chinese, I realized that I would lose part of my ethnic identity if I changed my last name but I decided to change my last name anyway. The logic was simple: I wanted to have the same last name as my future children so that no one would mistake me for their nanny. I kept my maiden name as my middle name. I like my last name by birth. Most of the time a middle name is not required, so, on paper, my name does not suggest that I am Chinese American.

In real life, I am a Chinese Americana proud one, I might add. I am fluent in spoken and written Chinese. My favorite carb is rice, in fact, it is pretty much the only carb I like. I am also an avid green tea drinker, and rarely miss an opportunity to order stinky bean curd if my dining partner can tolerate if not share it. After I had children of my own, it became even more important to embrace being Chinese. I wanted to pass down the great Chinese heritage and values to my children. They are taught to be respectful and obedient to their teachers in school, and that being smart and getting good grades is a great source of pride, and yes! math and science is more important than liberal arts.

I also made great efforts to teach my children to be fluent in Mandarin Chinese in our predominately English speaking household. We were fortunate to afford the neat trick of hiring a full time Chinese speaking nanny for our children for 6 years. I read Chinese children books to my children almost religiously every night. Both of my kids were given Chinese names (ones that I like) in addition to English ones and we use their Chinese names at home. We celebrate each major Chinese holiday, and for Chinese New Year, I even stage a celebration that can sort of rival Christmas. They get all dressed up in their beautiful silk Chinese outfits on New Year’s day, I arrange nice display of treats on our table for the kids to enjoy, and instead of the more traditional treats, I disguise mine with gold-wrapped Chocolate coins, and snacks that they like. After all, one has to enjoy the treats to appreciate the holiday. And of course, the red envelops, which they grow to appreciate more and more each year. One day, I think they might like it better than the presents during Christmas. I just have to be very generous with their red envelops. But the most festive part of our Chinese New Year celebration is our annul pilgrimage to my parent’s house. Where they learn that Chinese New Year is a great family celebration mixed with a lot of eating, and more red envelops for the children. I tell them that they are lucky to have more holiday celebrations than most of their friends, because they are Chinese.

And I am lucky to be an Chinese American too. Because I fully embrace the benefits from two great cultures. Even without a Chinese name.

All The President’s Women

Writen by Tim Knox

It warms the cockles of my heart to know that in this great country of ours any little boy can grow up to be a president who can’t keep his line item veto in his pants.

When the news broke that President Bill Clinton had been accused of having “an improper sexual relationship” with a 21-year old White House intern named Monica Lewinsky, and that he supposedly asked her to lie to cover up the affair, I didn’t quite know what to think. So, as I usually do in times of quandary, I let the little voices in my head fight it out.

The voting Republican in me did a little dance and said, “Aha, we’ve got him now! Slick Willy is going down! Somebody get Ronald Reagan on the phone!”

The pragmatist in me (he’s the serious looking one with no friends) said, “Now hold on a minute, you guys. Let’s not pass judgement until we have all the facts. Don’t forget what we did to Michael Jackson and poor Tonya Harding!”

The Aaron Spelling in me said, “What an evil vixen this Monica Lewinsky must be! She probably concocted the whole ugly story because President Clinton, being the champion of morality that he is, spurned her sleazy attempts at seduction. What a feather in her Gucci cap that would have been, seducing the President of the United States! I’m surprised she didn’t try to sing at his birthday party!”

And that little part of me which is a member in good standing of the “I’m A Guy So Sue Me Club” said, “Why, Bill Clinton, you old son of a gun…”

What I find surprising about these allegations is that the focus is not on whether there was an improper sexual relationship, but on whether Billy Boy told Miss Monica to lie about it if questioned. Telling her to lie under oath could lead to charges of obstruction of justice and perjury, offenses punishable by fines, imprisonment, and forced exposure to Janet Reno’s Panama City vacation video.

In other words, it’s okay to have sex with someone other than your spouse, just don’t lie about it if an independent counsel happens to stop by with a six pack of beer and a briefcase full of subpoenas.

A recent network news poll showed that 58% of women surveyed felt that, even if the sexual allegations against Clinton are true, it has no bearing on his ability to run this country. The respondents called Clinton’s behavior, “typically male,” which means: he’s a man, that’s what they do. I’m personally insulted by such generalizations because I know the typical male couldn’t get himself embroiled in a sex scandal with a 21-year old woman if he tried! Uh, so I hear.

Having lost all faith in the network news polls, I contacted my old friend and mentor, Dr. Beechwood A. Jing, Professor Emiritis at the South Hampton Institute of Technology’s Hammond-Eggar Anthropological Department, and asked him to conduct a little survey of his own. (You may remember Dr. Jing as the inventor of the much-maligned, sponge toilet seat in the late seventies.) Always willing to do his part for science and an old drinking buddy, Dr. Jing surveyed 12 coeds who attend his freshman Apolitical Ethics class, 4 lunchroom ladies he found unloading a dog food truck out back of the cafeteria, and 3 female colleagues who were smoking Virginia Slims cigarettes and drinking International Coffee in the teacher’s lounge. Dr. Jing asked these women a series of carefully-researched questions concerning the allegations against the President. Of the women surveyed:

89% believe Clinton is guilty of sexual misconduct, but if he promises to never play the saxophone again, they will forgive him.

53% found Bill Clinton sexually appealing in a “used car salesman sort of way.”

71% think the only woman in Washington Clinton isn’t sleeping with is his wife.

And 99% said that if Bill Clinton did have sex with a woman other than his wife and did ask her to lie to cover his behind, his behavior is not surprising because it was… typically male. Damn.

As a man who has painted himself into more corners than Wile E. Coyote, here’s my advice for Bill Clinton: Interrupt the last episode of Seinfeld with a live, televised press conference, then step up to the microphone and say: “Okay, America, you got me. I admit it. I had sex with Gennifer Flowers and Monica Lewinsky and I asked them both to lie about it. And I tried to have sex with Paula Jones, but her nose kept getting in the way! So now that you know the truth, America, I say to you, ‘So what?’ You want to impeach me? You want me to step down? Well, before you do, let me say just two words: Al Gore.”

“Mr. President! Mr. President! Sam Donaldson, ABC News!”

“Hold your water, Sam. I’m not answering any questions tonight. I’m already late for quarter beer and wings night at Hooter’s and after that I’m being made an honorary member of the Kennedy family. So good night, all, and God bless America.”

Perhaps Secretary of Defense William Cohen put it up best when he told Larry King: “I would have to say he (Clinton) is one of the smartest people I’ve ever met. His grasp of complex situations is incredible. He stays on top of everything. I like a hands-on president.”

Don’t we all, Mr. Cohen. Don’t we all.

Selling to a Liberal

Writen by Lance Winslow

When selling to a liberal customer the salesman should always listen because liberals are the smartest people on the planet and they know what is best. The salesman should never try to explain the product or the service is that come along with the product when selling to a liberal. Since Liberals are the smartest people they research all the information about the products and services they buy ahead of time and they know much more that you the salesman.

You see, a liberal customer is much smarter than any other person on the planet. They are more educated and much wiser. They have the ability to look beyond the reality of the situation and see a beautiful utopia just made for them. They do not need the education about the product or service because they are wiser than all of us.

Most of the greatest Americans who have ever lived our Liberals, conservative customers are not as wise as liberal customers. Not only because of their education but also because liberals know something that the rest of us have no idea or clue about; they understand everything. You should never try to discuss politics with liberal buyers as it might jeopardize the sale and they are so much smarter than the rest of us that there is no possible way you can win their argument. They are right and they know it.

All salesman should listen to Liberals as they might learn something about the world we live in and the salesman can get an education from the liberal about things that they have no clue. Liberal thinkers are some of the most wonderful and beautiful and colorful people of our times and the more friends you have their Liberals the smarter you will be just because some of their brilliance and intelligence might rub off on you. So if you are a salesman selling to a liberal it would behoove to use this opportunity to learn something.

There are no finer human beings anywhere in the galaxy than the liberals who live in the United States of America and understand the deeper meaning to life and can appreciate that we are all equal in every single way in every single endeavor. In fact, if you meet a liberal who is looking for a job you should introduce them to your sales manager because they are so wise that they can help your company achieved more sales please consider this in 2006.

Stagecoach Drivers and Their Whips

Writen by Alton Pryor

Not everyone could manage a stagecoach. The stagecoach driver was held in higher esteem when on the summit of the Sierra than was the millionaire statesman who might be riding beside him.

While most stage drivers were sober, at least while on duty, nearly all were fond of an occasional “eye opener.” A good driver was the captain of his craft. He was feared by his timid passengers, awed by stable boys, and was the trusty agent of his employer.

The seat next to the driver, weather permitting, was the preferred seat of the men passengers. But this was one seat that was reserved, and it was not gotten by simply being the first to hop on the left front wheel rim and climbing into the box.

If the driver didn’t want the person who took the seat there, he would firmly order him down, and then enjoy the passenger’s discomfiture for the next ten miles.

To sit in the driver’s seat, one proceeded very much in the manner of securing an appointment to a high office. He went to the source of authorityabove the driver himselfto the superintendent and even to the president of the company.

Charlie Parkhurst was one of the more skillful stagecoach drivers, not only in California, but throughout the west. He was variously called “One-eyed” or “Cockeyed” Charlie, because he had lost an eye when kicked by a horse. For 20 years, he drove stagecoach in California. Twice Charlie was held up. The first time, he was forced to throw down his strongbox because he was unarmed. The second time, he was prepared.

When a road agent ordered the stage to stop and commanded Charlie to throw down its strongbox, Parkhurst leveled a shotgun blast into the chest of the outlaw, whipped his horses into a full gallop, and left the bandit in the road.

One-eyed Charlie was known as one of the toughest, roughest, and the most daring of stagecoach drivers. Like most drivers, he was proud of his skill in the extremely difficult job as “whip.” Proper handling of the horses and the great coaches was an art that required much practice, experience, and not the least, courage.

Whips received high salaries for the times, sometimes as much as $125 a month, plus room and board.

“How in the world can you see your way through this dust?” one passenger asked Charlie.

“Smell it. Fact is,” Charlie replied, “I’ve traveled over these mountains so often I can tell where the road is by the sound of the wheels. When they rattle, I’m on hard ground; when they don’t rattle I gen’r'lly look over the side to see where she’s agoing.”

Yet, little was really known about Charlie Parkhurst before or after he came to California. It wasn’t until his body was prepared for burial that his true secret was discovered.

Charlotte “Charlie” Parkhurst was a woman. One doctor claimed that at some point in her life, she had been a mother.

Unknowingly, Parkhurst could claim a national first. After voting on Election Day, November 3, 1868, Charlie was probably the first woman to cast a ballot in any election. It wasn’t until 52 years later that the right to vote was guaranteed to women by the nineteenth amendment.

All stagecoach drivers, including Charlie, considered their whips worth their weight in gold. Drivers considered their whips a badge of honor.

Some drivers would as soon be caught without their pants as without their whips. Many of the whips used by the stage drivers were fine works of art, generally ornamented with handcrafted silver ferules girdling a handle made of hickory. Many of these whips are prized museum pieces today.

Whips were never sold, loaned, borrowed, or traded. In his book, “Stagecoach Days in Santa Barbara County, Walker A. Tompkins wrote, “Whips were considered a part of the driver, who kept the lashes well-oiled and as pliable as “a snake in the sun.”

Most stagecoach whips had buckskin lashes, usually from 11 to 12 feet in length, attached to a five-foot hickory shaft. The lashes were 10 feet too short to reach the lead team, which was controlled by reining.

Some rare drivers did carry a “six-horse whip” with a 22-foot lash, but these were mainly for circus and rodeo appearances, and considered too unwieldy for practical use.

The driver took his whip with him when off duty, and always hung it up. He never rested it in a corner for fear of warping the stock. Neither did he wrap the lash around the handle for fear of curling the thongs.

Stagecoach drivers were scornful of the way they were depicted in the movies. The top-grade stagecoach drivers used cracking of the whip sparingly. These drivers were concerned that the “pistol-shot” sounds made by the whips would only startle their passengers out of their naps or, worse yet, spook their teams.

Roads had to be built at public expense before stagecoaches were given a route. Some were little more than ox-cart tracks linking the various ranchos. Even the El Camino Real, the storied “King’s Highway”, was little more than a foot trail.

A tale is told about stage driver Whispering George Cooper. He got his name because of his loud bellow, which was said could be heard for miles, even against a wind, while he pushed his team up a treacherous pass.

At one point, Whispering George needed to repair a broken single tree that had developed a bad split. He scoured the stage for a bit of rope or a scrap of baling wire, to make the repair.

At that moment, a rattlesnake slithering across the road in front of them spooked his team. George killed the snake, which measured five feet or more in length. A passenger commented how much the snake resembled a rope.

“By gawd, that’s what I’ll use it for!” exclaimed George. He wrapped the dead snake around the single tree and knotted it into place. It worked, holding the damaged single tree together until it reached a relay station.

The term “stagecoach” came about in medieval Europe, when public coach travel was the only way one could get from one point to another without walking.

Trips were generally made in easy stages because of bad roads and the lack of overnight lodgings along the way. Hence, the term “stage” coach.

Alton Pryor has been a writer for magazines, newspapers, and wire services. He worked for United Press International in their Sacramento Bureau, handling both printed press as well as radio news. He traveled the state as a field editor for California Farmer Magazine for 27 years. He is now the author of 10 books, primarily on California and western history. His books can be seen at www.stagecoachpublishing.com Readers can email him at stagecoach@surewest.net.

Perks of Global Warming

Writen by Nola Kelsey

Marya Mannes once wrote, “The earth we abuse and the living things we kill will, in the end, take their revenge; for in exploiting their presence we are diminishing our future.” Obviously Ms. Mannes preferred the status quo - health, sanity, logic, blah, blah, blah. Why? Green House Roulette is so much more intriguing.

In the country, weather affects everything. For five years Western South Dakota has been gripped by drought. Water and hay are vanishing. Farms and ranches are blowing away. While the government bails out victims from Florida’s Hurricanes and says, ‘South Dawho?’ our cattle are pissing dust mites. Fortunately, things are looking up.

There is some good news! Those pesky glaciers are finally melting off! Last fall an eight-nation report estimated an area of Arctic icepack the size of Texas and Kansas is gone. For those who are geographically impaired, that is an area bigger than a breadbox.

At first, news of devastating global climate change might seem a bit of a bummer. Then I read an LA Times article and had a change of heart. The article began with the usual gloom. Greenland’s ice cap is melting. Our coasts will flood from rising seawater. Inuit hunters are falling through thinning ice. Melting glaciers change ocean temperature and salinity contorting the jet stream, which results in altered weather patterns worldwide. Multitudes of species are dying off . . . It was disheartening.

Then I got to the article’s final paragraph. Bam! My faith was restored. Here the Times pointed out the perks of global warming. Seriously, the article actually ended saying: “The report is not all gloomy. A warmer Arctic could increase the number of some species, such as Arctic char, a fish. It could extend the growing season for wheat in Canada and open up now-treacherous sea routes, such as the Northwest Passage and the Northern Sea Route, which parallels Russia, for shipping and resource exploration.”

Three cheers for the LA Times! It’s true! All is not gloomy. With that glorious bit of sunshine pumped straight up my ski bibs, I was able to see things in a whole new light. I started thinking of other advantages to global warming. Soon you will agree that people from all walks of life will benefit.

For starters, Inuit Hunters will benefit! Once Inuit have nothing left to hunt there will be no need for them to risk falling through thin ice. Plus, by needing food they will be ripe for a floating (pontoons, not ice) Arctic Super Wal-Mart. “Go get ‘em, Sam.”

Boat owners will benefit! Not only will there be smooth sailing through the formerly bothersome ice of the Northwest Passage, but each summer, cruise ships will be able to run tourists straight up Bourbon Street in New Orleans.

Scuba Divers will benefit! There will be no more burning coral cuts. In fact there will be no more coral. Once all the reefs are gone, divers can pack away first aid kits and dive straight in. A little silt never cut anyone.

Canadian Wheat Farmers will benefit! You see, there is a 10% decrease in yield of corn from Midwest crops for every degree of global warming. No worries though, now wheat can take the place of corn. Think about all those scrumptious Wheat Dogs at the ball game. How about popped wheat with butter at the movies or steaming wheat on the cob? All scream ‘yummy’ to me.

While it is a bit ironic that ethanol is made from the corn crops global warming devastates, I am sure some aspiring chemist will rise to the challenge of developing ‘Wheatanol.’ Imagine Canuck Wheat Farmers having more influence than the Saudi Royal Family.

Dune-Buggy enthusiasts will benefit! The Dakotas will soon reopen for your 4-wheelin’ pleasure. Join the Mount Rushmore Nose Climb on July 4th! It will be a bugger of a challenge!

Eco-Tourism Operators will benefit! Companies could offer new “Emaciation Tour Packages.” Tourists get closer photos of polar bears and whales when they are too lethargic from starvation to meander away. In addition, long treks to Inuit villages can be avoided once they are forced to beg on the streets of Nome (or cashiering at Wal-Mart).

Finally, the next generation of Bush family politicians will benefit! Once again they can avoid addressing campaign issues, this time by distracting dehydrated voters with witty campaign phrases like; “No Kyoto Pact-No Ice Pack,” or “Dead Seals Never Flip-Flop,” even promising “No Char Left Behind.” Not to mention offering new, SPF 80 tax credits.

Well, by golly, I do feel better! Shall we spin the Roulette wheel some more?

Zoologist turned satirist Nola Kelsey is a former copywriter for an equine health products company, as well as, an editorial research assistant for one of the countries top publishers of herpetological care and maintenance books. She has just released her second book, Bitch Unleashed: The Harsh Realities of Goin’ Country, a scathing satire about the misadventures of rural relocation. Kelsey is also the wicked wit behind the political satire Keeping the Masses Down. You can read more of her writing on her website by visiting http://www.NolaKelsey.com

Jokes For Jay Leno: Celebrity Jokes

Writen by John T Jones, Ph.D.

I’ve noted that Jay Leno is still hurting for jokes. This is the third of my helpful articles providing original jokes to poor Ol’ Jay. This time I’ve decided to use one of Jay’s favorite topics, celebrities.

Marilyn Monroe and Joe DiMaggio

There are reports in the Afterlife Gazette that Joe DiMaggio is trying to get back into the favor of Marilyn Monroe by writing music. One report by Walter Winchell, who passed over in 1972, is that Marilyn is decomposing as fast as Joe is composing. According to Winchell: JOE has become very DISJOINTED over this.

Paris Hilton

Because of her negative reputation of being WITHOUT A CLUE, Paris Hilton enrolled in the COSMOLOGY department at Stanford University. It is reported by fellow students that her only question during the first lecture was: Will I be able to use my own COSMETICS?

Paris left the class when the professor mentioned BLACK HOLES.

She told a fellow student that she did not like NASTY PROFESSORS and that she was transferring to Cal Tech because she heard that there are more boys there.

Jennifer Lopez

The Latino hot sheet published in West Los Angeles, Un Pl