"Die Alone" - A Half Assed Review

Fitful sleep, combined with periods of being awake, is part of my life now. I have become so used to it, when I wake up at Dark-Thirty to  stumble to the bathroom to pee, I will often wonder, will I be able to go back to sleep? Often I cannot get back to sleep. 

One of my first remedies is to turn on the TV. Nine times out of ten, I fall asleep before the first commercial. If that doesn't work, I watch the movie or TV show and then reset the sleep clock to catch a few winks before it's time to feed Maggie and head outside to face our day.

Last night I was waking up every 45 minutes or so. So I turned on the TV and picked a movie I would not normally choose. It was another of the many, many Zombie chomping Apocalypse End of the World extravaganzas, but on a low budget. With a title like "Die Alone", I was sure it would be boiler plate, rehashed Zombies chasing normal people who are stupid enough to get caught kind of movie. I did not expect any twists I had not seen before.

As it turns out, "Die Alone" was a pretty standard Zombie movie but with a few tweaks that caught and kept my attention for the most part. I only remember dozing off once and that was only for a few minutes. I would have welcomed the sleep, but my brain obviously had been stimulated enough, it was not going to let me sleep. It wanted to watch the movie. I almost expected it to ask me to make some popcorn.

I won't repeat comments from the one review I read, but it was a decent movie with less of an emphasis on the actual horrific scenes of Zombies and what they were having for dinner; rather it focused on the characters and their interactions that built to a unique twist at the end.

It was filmed in Canada on what appears to be a typical Canadian budget. I found it refreshing to watch a film that did not take the easy path and glorify the violence between survivors and Zombies. Watching Zombies get mowed down by ever more complicated machines of destruction does nothing for me. This film caught my attention early by creating a mystery in the first 5 minutes. It isn't a great movie, but certainly better than the average Zombie/Apocalypse stupidity that make up much bigger budget films. Zombies were not the center of attention, the interactions of the characters was. Plot and characterizations, not special effects, drive this movie.

The few slow moments do not detract from the overall quality of the film. Yeah, I'd recommend it.

In some ways it reminded me of "The Road", a very good 2009 apocalypse film based on the excellent novel by the same name. There are no Zombies in "The Road". But it has a similar feel as "Die Alone" as it depends on characters and a sincere plot. 

Keep it 'tween the ditches .......................................

_____________________________

The logical choice for this post would be a tune about, named, or at least containing a vague reference to Zombies. The Cranberries' fine song, "Zombie" immediately came to mind. The problem though, was I used a Cranberries tune for my last post. Two songs in a row from the same group is not allowed per the rules I set up back whenever it was I made including music with posts part of the package. I figured, if I couldn't entertain with my words, I'd include the efforts of people more talented than I as a consolation prize for any disappointments people might have after reading my dribble.

I considered breaking my own rule. I remembered I have always considered self imposed rules with a kind of fluid adherence. If the mood suited me, I broke them in a heart beat.

Without further ado; here are The Cranberries, and their song, "Zombie".

Flies in My Coffee Blues

I can't keep up with the planet's constant change of pace as it whizzes past my pucker brush protected corner here in Maine, USA. Thankfully, another natural cycle will swing by in time to remind me some things will never change. 

No matter what's currently shakin and quakin out of control beyond the comfort zone I have built for myself, the natural cycles of the Real World have become dependable, tried and true sanity anchors for me. Each season, each month brings with them events, tasks, and concerns none of the others have. No matter how insane Humans get, the natural cycles can often temper the worst of our craziness and stupidity; at least in the short term.

Some of those cycles I look forward to and some I don't. No matter what, every cycle brings both the good and the bad. Pick your poison. A certainty is that, at the very least, a minor inconvenience accompanies every moment we annually count on.

I'll skip over the long list of cycles I look forward to and skip right to the ones, well one specific one that involves me every June and July in the same insane struggle..... House Flies and their never ending efforts to drive me out of my mind.

We don't usually have a high annual influx of houseflies. I'm guessing about an average total for an old house with an infinite number of ways for beasties, small and even smaller to invade our house. Along with ladybugs, some very confused wasps, houseflies are more than benign visitors like the others. I don't count spiders because well, I like spiders and do what I can to protect their turf, inside or out. Besides, they love to eat houseflies.

There are surely an infinite number of critters dumber than a housefly. but not many more annoying. They don't need to be smart, their abilities exist in the reflex DNA that is in every fly I guess. They have speed and reflexes on their side: me, well, it's supposed to be no contest but usually ends up in a draw.

This year the housefly invasion came late. At this point, the ones showing up are nummer and dummer than the average housefly. They are easy to kill, they'll wait for you. They're attraction to being extremely stupid however has a serious downside. In the last 72 hours or so, I have picked at least 5 flies out of my coffee. There have been so many, I am now a tad concerned about how many I might have missed.

At this point, I am in quandary regarding which kind of housefly is better for me;  The dumb a a bag of rocks flies that are easy to kill but will often find a way to fall in my coffee or the fast un-killable kind, who irritate me in so many other ways but at least have the courtesy to not fall in my coffee and drown.

Keep it 'tween the ditches ......................................

<><><><><><><><>

I found a cool kids tune, "Housefly Blues", by The Wee Hairy Beasties. The song is for kids, the music is for everyone. It's a pretty kick ass Blues tune.

Summer Has Finally Arrived

I saw my first dragonfly of the summer yesterday. For me, that is the first sign of real summer here in Maine. Once the big black ones (Canada Darner?) start cruising the yard, there is a noticeable drop in the mosquito population during the hours of dusk when both of them like it best. 

Dragonflies and their shadows, the Damselflies are found all over the planet. Worldwide, there are approximately 5500 to 6000 species of Dragonflies and Damselflies. The United States has a healthy percentage at around 450 species, with Maine coming in at or damn close to being the top location with 36% of those 450. New species are discovered on a regular basis up here, some of which are only found in or around a specific lake, pond or marsh.

Other than being generally smaller now, Dragonflies and Damselflies are relatively unchanged over the millions of years they have been around. They both are members of the Odonata Order that dates back 325 million years at least. That puts them here many millions of years before dinosaurs began stomping around. They can fly forward, backwards, and hover. Efficient hunters, they can turn on a dime to snatch the flying food around them.

Very cool insects.

While Dragonflies and Damselflies are both of the Odonata Order, there are real differences between them. Damselflies as a rule tend to be smaller than Dragonflies. The easiest way to tell the difference when seeing them is to catch them not flying and look at their wings. Damselflies fold their wings to their bodies when still, Dragonflies don't.

So there you have it; another crude attempt on my part to convey to the world that I still pay attention to the comings and goings of the creatures that surround my little patch of Heaven here in the pucker brush of southern Maine.

Ya'll have a wonderful day now...... Ya hear?

________________________________

Never heard of this young lady. Her voice and simple tune caught my attention. Please enjoy "Dragonfly" by Kasey Chambers.

Fungus Among Us

I don't often understand where I find the dreams that entertain my sleep. Last night would be the exception. The other exception is it is a rare night I am able to return to sleep and pick up the same dream almost where I left off.

I had stopped watching the HBO Max series, "The Last of Us", a few weeks ago. I decided I was now used to binge watching a series and did not want to suffer the "wait a week" madness for the next episode. I stopped watching and was happy to wait for this first season to end and then go on a video bender.

Based on a video game,"The Last of Us" is a classic apocalyptic, cannibal zombie tale that is very well produced and acted. The one twist I had not seen or read in any other doomsday "Life on Earth is Over " story was the cause of said disaster. In this tale, it is a fungal pandemic that turns almost everyone into a Zombie or food for the Zombies. It doesn't look good for the Human Race.

Of course my dreams never put me in exactly the same situation I may have read about, seen on the big screen or small. No, my dreams are always different. I certainly draw from the recent series, but also I think from a book I read many years ago; "The Andromeda Strain", by Michael Crichton.

My dream plays out in a comfortable and familiar scenario I seem to like to fit my night visions into. There's me with a group. We are neither good nor bad. Another group, neither good nor bad, is chasing us. It takes place in woods with twisting roads and awesome overlooks that provide one of my favorite all time go to escapes, jumping off a cliff to avoid capture.

The fungal twist comes from "Andromeda Strain" I think. The fungus attacks only inorganic substances, in other words , most man made anything. Steel, anything made from oil, etc. Any metallic substance that is in its natural state is safe; copper tubing is big in this dream for some reason. Now I am not an expert on inorganic or organic anything when it comes to chemistry. It's a dream that I made up. Any reliance on actual science is accidental.

The first thing I can remember is the planet has fallen upon hard times. Me and my droogs are ripping out copper pipe and wire from the decomposing hulk of a McMansion in suburbia, USA. Another group shows up and as it is our group's policy to run first and fight last, we boot. 

We realize after many twisting corners, hiding in crevices and behind trees, these guys are not after our copper. They have a different agenda. We don't know what that agenda is, but while we take a moment to catch our breath, we discuss the possibilities. Being a dream, we settle on the craziest solution we can. We decide the other group is hungry and wants us for dinner. ........ I actually woke up at this point laughing. Went to the bathroom, came back, fell asleep and picked up the dream like I had never left.

Some more chasing and then I was alone. Not sure why I was, but I was now a solo act with the other group hot on my ass. I was able to keep my lead. Every so often I would turn and laugh at them, flip them off and actually wait for them to almost catch up. The last thing I can clearly remember was my escape over a wall and there was no ground to land on. The wall had been at the edge of a cliff face. I fell for a distance, hit the ground, rolled and stood up. Looking up to the wall a hundred feet or so above me, the crew who were chasing me were looking down at me with ugly faces. 

I smiled and went on my way, but I had lost the copper somewhere along the way.

Keep it 'tween the ditches ....................................

_____________________

Who knew there is quite a variety of songs about fungus. Most created by well meaning, but marginally talented teachers or nerds who I gather they hope the fascination they have for all things fungal can be conveyed in song and dance. I might have paid more attention in school if I had fools dressed as mushrooms dancing up in the front of class.

Here is what I consider the best of the bunch I checked out. It is creatively named, "Rap Song About Fungus", by an outfit known only as Science Songs.

The video actually worked for me. I learned the largest organism found to date on our planet is a fungus growing underground in Oregon. It is 2,200 acres big. Another factoid was Fungus combined with certain bacterias can create spontaneous combustion. I wonder if this is part of the cause of siloes in Indiana blowing up.

Regardless every day is a learning day if I know where to look.

A Twisted Happy Thanksgiving

Everyone looked up when Gramps limped in dragging a large bundle wrapped in black plastic. He dragged it over near the stove, dropped the rope and turned towards the expectant faces focused on him.

“Everyone; this year we feast. ……. Ma, I was able to get through the fence. Got a fat kill this year.”

GranMa got right to work. Signaling her youngest to help her, the two of them lifted the bundle and placed it on the picnic table that now served this clan as their table for every purpose.

“Well Jeb, wouldn’t take much to do better ‘n last year. That pitiful kill didn’t amount to shit once the bones had been picked out. …. Barely a decent bite for each of us.

She pulled a huge knife from the space between table planks and began cutting away the plastic.

Gramps scowled at GranMa and stumbled towards his chair. Settling in with a series of grunts and groans, he reached for his pipe.

“Woman, you know last year weren’t my fault, I was laid up. You sent little Jackie out. He did fine considerin you wouldn’t even give him a knife.”

“Fool kid woulda lost it and we only have three left. He did alright I guess. But that squirrel was kinda scrawny.”

Jackie looked up at Grandma with vacant eyes.

“Yeah Grandma, I kilt that squirrel with a rock…knocked him right out of that tree.”

GranMa did not hear Jackie. She was intent on unwrapping the fat kill Gramps was bragging about. She had cut through the line and wrap. She gasped as she peeled back the plastic. Stepping back quickly she brought her hand to her mouth.

“What’s the matter GranMa? What did Gramps bring us for Thanksgiving?”

GranMa shifted her eyes toward Gramps.

“You say you got through the fence? What fence? Not the one around the Big House?”

Gramps had by this time found his tobacco, stuffed it in his pipe and was creating quite a cloud around himself.

Yep. That would be the fence I got through alright. He pointed his pipe at the creature spread out on the picnic table.

He walked into me. How could I resist? Look at him with those fat legs. You cook him up right and we eat fine for the next coupla weeks, okay?

GranMa looked back at the critter she was supposed to cook and then back at Gramps.

“You know we could be in for it if they come lookin.”

“They won’t. You know that.”

GranMa looked at Gramps hard, squinted and pointed a crooked finger at him.

“How do you know old man? ,,,,,,, No one’s ever killed one of their kids.”

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Happy Turkey Day Everyone! Not sure where this story came from ...... oh yeah. Recently on a TV series called "White Chapel", one of the sleazy characters had cooked a proboscis monkey. Obviously the image and scene stuck with me. Couldn't resist. 

Music today is a nice little ditty by Psychostick/Slipknot - " Give Thanks or Die ". Not your usual music of Thanksgiving. But it is somehow appropriate given the story above.

Skate Park Punks

 I woke up this morning hard. No gentle transition, but a rude awakening as if I was finally giving up a fight and would rather face the day than try to recapture the night. It had been a fitful sleep. But then fitful sleep has become more the rule than the exception in recent years.

I don't often remember dreams after a night of tossing, turning, getting up, laying down, repeat. Last night was an exception.

I was some kind of BMX coach of a group of punks in their mid teens. Not sure why BMX, but it was cycling related and at least that made some sense. 

When I found them at the skate park in Somewhere, USA, they were all hanging out behind the big ramp passing a joint and smoking cigarettes. I recognized one from my bike shop. I had caught him stealing awhile back and kicked his sorry ass out of my store.

When these teen age losers saw me they did not even blink. They kept sucking on the joint and smoking their cigarettes and as if on cue, they all grinned at me. I grinned back. They flipped me off. I flipped back.

Scene shifted to this group of losers and myself at a BMX race. There was also a Freestyle competition going on inside the BMX track. My boys were kicking serious ass in both competitions. A coach or authority figure appeared and accused us of cheating. I flipped him off.

When the events were over and my team and I were tail gating at the van, another authority figure shows up and tells us we are all banned from that event in the foreseeable future. All of us flipped him off.

Somewhere the dream shifted gears and I was attempting to talk one of my punks out of quitting the team. He was the fastest of anyone he had faced in every race he had been in. Trouble at home he said. I replied that all of you losers have troubles at home. Quitting the team won't fix that. I went on to try to convince him to stay, but at some point I was looking at his back as he walked away with one hand flipping me and the team off.

Another scene shift and I notice a blackhead pimple on my shoulder. On automatic like I was thirteen again, I squeezed that sucker to clean out the pore. Instead of the predicted blackhead popping up, a small worm oozed out of the now much larger hole. I didn't hesitate. I grabbed it and yanked with steady pressure like I had been here before and done that before. Slowly I was able to get that worm out in one piece. It looked to be six inches long or so.

That was the end of my fitful sleep of last night. Suddenly I was awake wondering just what the Hell was that?

Keep it tween the ditches ..................................

_________________________

When I saw Roy Orbison's song, " In Dreams" on the list Google came up with, I remembered David Lynch's movie, "Blue Velvet" and punched it up. The song was highlighted in the movie as it was lip synced by one of the main lunatics righteously played by Dean Stockwell; making it one of the creepiest scenes in cinema. Lynch did have a way of creating creepy.

Another Disturbing Dream

 

A decent night's sleep has become somewhat of a rarity for me now that I hail from the older than dirt community. My normal sleep patterns recently are short fitful slumbering moments interrupted by glazed eye, foggy brained semi awake moments while I sit in the kitchen sipping water or head to the bathroom to drain that water I sipped earlier. And always in those foggy moments, I am wondering if this is going to be another night of shitty sleep.

Last night however, I struck preemptively. Somewhere between 10 and 11, I shut down the TV, took off my glasses and consciously made an effort to fall asleep. And fall asleep I did. Five hours later at four o'clock AM, my bladder woke me up. 

Excellent. Five plus hours of uninterrupted dreamless slumber. My eyes were wide open. My brain felt clear and ready to take on the day. .......... But why get on with the day when I seemed to be on a good sleeping roll? So I laid down and was asleep again in minutes.

So much for dreamless slumber. The extra hour of sleep I paid for with a dream that woke me up kind of gasping for breath. 

I won't call it a nightmare. It was only the last moments of the dream that bothered me. But it was that final climax that forced the memory of the rest of the dream out into the ether where dreams go to be forgotten. I sure would have liked the finale to be the part I forgot.

It seems in this dream it was not clear if I was an active participant , just a witness, or maybe a disembodied presence who happened to be in the area. Regardless, the scene, from what I can recollect took place in a school, community, group home where everyone, men mostly, were dressed in red. It was a community of workers creating food for others.

The last scene I remember ...... Oh, I just now remembered I was indeed an active participant. I drove the delivery truck that delivered the raw resources for the food the red people turned into prepared meals. ......... I backed into the loading dock. I lifted the roll up door. Red clothed workers hustled right in to unload. Their supervisor I assume, stood on the loading dock and said something to the effect, 

" Ahh, Looks good driver. Good job".

Since I had picked up this load blind by just hooking up the already loaded trailer, I had no clue what the load looked like. It had seals on the locked latch. I turned to look in the trailer, ........... Piles of rotten vegetables, what looked like buckets of puke, and almost next to me, dead human bodies piled five high on a rugged looking skid. The smell was overwhelming. My nausea was instantaneous.

That is when I woke up. 

With dreams like this, who needs nightmares?

Keep it 'tween the ditches ................................................

_____________________________

I came up with a tune duet for this post.  "Dream Weaver" , by Gary Wright. His song is certainly a happier tune than my dream.

And then I found a long lost Fleetwood Mac tune, "The Green Manalishi" . This song was recorded when Peter Green was the heart of the band and before they sold out to became just another Pop band.

___________________________

Compiling My Own Truths

The day I heard Kellyanne Douche-bag stand in front of the media and defend her president's serial lying with an inference that out there in the space that is filled with facts and non-facts, there exists facts that will support any kind of deviation from the accepted factual norms. With a straight face, she insisted that "Alternative Facts" did indeed exist and because they existed, her president was not a liar. 

I immediately thought of the atom; that basic building block upon which every physical thing in the Universe depends on for their structure, their purpose, their existence. Within the atom there are three even smaller objects known as subatomic particles. They are the electrons, the protons, and the neutrons. The protons and the electrons do most of the real work it seems, while the neutrons just buzz around getting in the way. Protons and Electrons represent facts and non-facts. And Neutrons represent Kellyanne's "alternative facts". They orbit around the nucleus at astounding speeds. Their purpose is still a mystery as are the Alternative Realities conjured up in the toilet stalls of the Trump White House. 

This revelation happened a few months into Trump's only term as president. Like many anti-Trumpers, I had not yet become hardened to the day in, day out flow of bullshit that oozed out of Trump's pie hole. I could not believe my ears. I was outraged. This is not the kind of Texas Leaguer crap I expected from a national leader. It cemented my contention that short of assassination, I would accept almost any effort that successfully removed that clown from office.

Looking at that one news conference now five or six years later, I have decided that it was a pivotal moment in the distribution of news around the World. From that one stupid and wrong assertion that real facts had twisted twin facts that could be used to destroy the facts most of us considered the truth, well, today, facts just do not matter to a sizable minority of Americans anymore. Uncomfortable truths can be be discarded and/or ignored by relying on any deceit or deception they want to come up with for themselves.

Not happy with the truth, create your own truth and live happy as if you had a brain. The Right has always tended this direction, but nothing close to the new psychotic need to "own the Libs". And almost as automatically, the Right does not even bother looking for the truth anywhere but in the fantasies that bubble up from the cesspools they know as their minds.

As I wrote earlier, the acceptance of "alternative facts" into our conversations has dramatically changed how we view and use what we see and hear to help define our place in the scheme of things. And as much as I hate to admit it, some good has come out of the resistance of the Right to any information not conjured up on their side of the aisle. It has made me a better observer of current events, policy changes, and the crazy behind the scenes BS that muddies the events unfolding in government. I now will often look for supporting information on claims, events, etc that are loudly being denied by the Wingers.

I have also begun to compile a list of my own truths. Not "alternative facts", but truths I have decided are true. They are what I base on my opinions on. 

• Many, many people claim we live in a Democracy. I do not think we do. More than a few poli-sci folks with letters after their name agree with me. I am of the opinion as many others are that this mess we call US Democracy is actually a Constitutional Republic. In my opinion the only true democracy in my life is the annual Acton Town meeting where everything is decided one person, one vote.
• Trump lost the election and anyone who disagrees with that truth is an idiot or some slimy evil Winger slug who doesn't deserve any consideration from me.
• Jan. 6 was an insurrection and the people caught up in it are traitors and should be punished more harshly than they have been to this point.
• In groups, humans tend to project their worst character flaws. Exclusion, deception, bias, lethargy, ambivalence and hate all seem to take deeper root in a group think scenario; making all of them harder to root out.
• Looking for the Good in people needs to be tempered by having a sense of the Hate that may lurk just under the surface. Never assume all people are Good and never assume all people are Bad. 
• Of all the hate, discontent and useless whining over the petty issues of Humanity, the absolute top tier issue our stupid race should be addressing is Climate Change. If we do not address that, none of all the stupid shit we waste time on will matter. 
• The Planet does not give a hoot what we do. It will continue on with or without us. It does not care what we do to it. But not caring what we do to it is flirting with disaster.

The list is far from complete. And I can see at least a couple of these first entries as candidates for later reassessment. Regardless, I am going to find my own truths now with the idea that I can back them up with reasonable logic.

Keep it 'tween the ditches ..................................

_____________________

Music for this post .... Hmm. Give me a minute.

Found this by mistake. "Hopelessly Hoping" by Crosby, Stills and Nash should fit okay. Not perfectly , but then who cares. It is a great tune..... Timeless.

Can Spiders Hear You Scream?

I was punching out the beginning of a hopefully wry and funny post about Donald Trump, his licensed products, and how stupid his minions are for buying into his scams. Then my wife came into the office. She was all done up in her ready to go to work attire. She had her CPA satchels and bags hanging off both shoulders. And best of all, she had that serious "you asshole" look on her face.

"Just to let you know; another one of your eight legged friends is in the bathroom. He only lived because I saw him between the shower curtains while I was showering. When I was ready too hunt him down, he was gone. Get him out or he dies the next time I see him."

"Uh, if I am correct, most spiders we see are female." I grinned. 

All I got was a terse, " That's as it should be. Might be a good idea for humans also ..... Get it out, I have to go. See you later." She turned and left the office.

Hey, a man has to find his fun where he can. 

There are two areas of the house that my darling wife will not tolerate spiders; the kitchen and the bathroom. I would say she is not exactly afraid of them. She just hates them. And she will pull out all the stops to kill one. I, on the other hand, love the little bastards. Over the years I have cherished their existence in any home I have lived in. I did and still do what I can to protect them from the evil humans who would do them harm.

As I was on the hunt to find this animal who had had the audacity to break the morning calm and bathroom routine of my darling significant other, I wondered if Spiders could hear. I remembered someone telling me they couldn't. They did not have ears. I vowed to embark on a ten second trip through google-land once I had the offending spider in custody.

It was a very short hunt. Spiders look like they should be blessed with intelligence, what with all the eyes, the awesome set of mandibles and other scary rigging. Sadly, they are all show and no go. Slaves to instinct and tradition, they are single minded to a fault. If a spider decides that existing between two shower curtains is cool, that is where you will most likely find them next time you look. And this particular type of brown spider I have learned loves living in and around sinks. A bath tub is just a big sink. Our little criminal must have thought she had hit the jackpot. 

I spent more time finding a glass and stiff piece of paper than the time it took to trap my little friend. I took a moment for a mug shot in case she fails in her effort to learn to live in the wild and reappears in the future. I also spoke to her about how stupid it was to test my wife. You don't win when engaging my life partner in battle. I even showed the little bastard my scars. (Okay, Okay, that was bullshit, but the spider couldn't tell. She didn't know a scar from a pimple ferchrisakes) She did seem impressed. I think I saw her blink.

Once Ms. spider was safely behind glass, I took her down to the garage and released her into the Wild. It is a jungle down there. And there is a sink to cozy up to. But she better be careful. That sink has been occupied by one of her kind forever.

Back in my office, tuckered and tired from that exhausting safari to rid my home of a dangerous predator, I was feeling heroic when I googled;

"Do spiders have ears?"

It turns out spiders do not have ears. But they can hear just fine. The listen by feeling sound vibrations through the infinite number of hairs that cover their bodies. Pretty clever set up I think. 

So yes, spiders can hear you scream. But don't be a nancy. Talk to them nice. They might just not eat you that night.

Keep it tween the ditches ..................................................

BTW - I emailed my wife a confirmation pic of the spider under arrest. A man has take his fun where he finds it.

___________________________

I need a tune that represents spiders. This should be interesting. ....... 

Actually finding a good tune was not too much of an issue. There are too many tunes with "spiders" in their title. I had to check quite a few until I found Rainne and her song, "Spiders". The video is kind of cool too.

Slugfest

Slugs .................... there is not much I can say in defense of slugs. They look slimy and are slimy. If that slime gets on you, even soap and a scrub brush may not get rid of it anytime soon.

Slugs it seems, are predisposed to bypass the immeasurable tasty tidbits they wake up next to every day and head right to any plantings a human has carefully laid down in sweetened soil.  It does not seem to matter what plants are sown, as long as human hands had anything to do with their existence. Slugs are going to find them and have their slimy way with them.

I have been battling slugs for, well, forever I guess.  As a wee tacker, I was tasked to perform daily slug patrols in Dad's various gardens.  Dad has since passed onto the great beyond, but the task of slug patrol continues unabated.  

If the little bastards would wait until the seedlings gained some girth as well as some height, I might not hate them so much.  But they insist on going after the children.  This will not stand.

I have learned a few things over the years about slugs and how to keep them at bay:

The beer in a cup trap is a bad idea.  While it is somewhat heart warming to come out to the garden and see cups full of dead drunken slugs, I figured out that the beer was drawing more of them in than if I had not put any beer out in the first place.  More coming in meant more getting to my plants to ply their evil ways.

I tried commercial remedies a couple of times.  It might be my imagination, but once I was sure I saw a couple of slugs hiding at the shadowy edge of the garden chuckling and poking each other as they watched me plop down a store bought slug trap.

The only technique that works for me is to get physical and put myself in harm's way to defend that which I have struggled so hard to create.  When I was young, I would pick them up and toss them in a can to be thrown in the garbage after Dad poured a small dose of kerosene in the bucket.  So of course, I would have slug slime all over and then bring it into the house.  Slug slime in the house does not a happy Mom make.

I tried just stomping on them.  Sure, it killed them, but leaving a carcass was just an enticement to all the slug hordes waiting in the shadows.  And often I would end up with them stuck to my shoes and they would end up in the house.  Dead slugs in the house does not a happy wife make.

Over the years I have altered my approach.  Now I use a scraper to scoop them up.  Instead of disposing of them, I give them another chance at Life, but from a new location.  I fling them as far away from the garden as I can.  I have gotten pretty handy with that scraper.  They might find their way back, but I am sure it takes them more than a day or two. And this has been the most effective slug deterrent I have found.

Anyway, just a few words regarding slugs.  As integral parts of Nature's clean up crew, I guess they deserve a modicum of respect.  But only if they stay out of my garden.

Keep it 'tween the ditches ...............................................

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Tune for this post is an appropriate choice....... "Hey Slug" by Sarah Maddack

Things That Go Bump in the Night

When I was a child I was sure there were indeed things that went bump in the night, monsters under the bed, and closet creatures just waiting with bated breath to snatch me up and take me to their lairs. My parents would be understanding but firm about it being my problem, not theirs. 

My dad would grunt, "Go back to sleep Bug, there's nothing to fear."

Nothing to fear? Who was he kidding? Sinister Evil loitered in every nook and cranny of my room. But I would suck it up and cringe under the covers until the need to sleep overcame the need to be scared.

Eventually I learned to not fear the figments of my imagination. Rather, I embraced them, let them play out their worst case scenarios and then parked them in the dusty file marked "Get a Grip Mike".

Yet even now, fifty years later, when the flashlight is on, sometimes a figment will find its beam.

Keep it 'tween the ditches ..........................................

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Tune for this post , "Haunted", by Evanescene

The House That Jack Built

 

Okay.............. I admit I enjoy a well done movie that disturbs me, makes me think, frightens me, and leaves me wondering what the hell did I just watch. "The House that Jack Built", a 2018 movie directed by Lars von Trier, was just such a movie. I have not decided yet whether I liked it or was just truly horrified by it. 

It is not a run of the mill serial killer movie filled with gratuitous blood and guts. It has blood and guts big time, but it all fits. Played wonderfully by Matt Dillion, the movie needs the over the top violence of the main character Jack to flush out the depth of his insanity.  It is two hours of some of the best creepiness to come down the pike since "Silence of the Lambs".

Told in 5 episodes or incidents, we watch Jack's progression from rookie serial killer in the first incident to the master of  the craft 12 years later when he determines he has nothing new to prove and well ........ he makes his last journey because as he says, "I want to see it all."

I think this is a movie I will need to watch again to really figure out what I can take away from it. The plot is convoluted as is the dialog. There are many messages in it I have not nailed down yet. The ending reminds me of Dante's "Inferno".

If you enjoy being creeped out, it is playing on AMC+.

Later ..........................................................

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Naturally I chose a song from the movie wrapped into a trailer. A cover of "Hit the Road Jack" performed by Buster Poindexter.

And if you feel up to it, watch the following trailer set to "David Bowie's, "Fame".

Of Caterpillars & Snow

We finally saw our first real snow of Winter 2021/2022. Up to this point, all I had measured by eye was a total accumulation of less than two inches. This 7-8 inch dump overnight is as close to a real storm as we are likely to get before the end of the year. 

Enough said. I won't get up on my climate change high horse and beat the Humanity is killing itself drum. 

Which brings me to caterpillars.

I ran into this cute little feller on the Smithsonian Channel this morning on some show about all the weird and wonderful stuff found throughout the natural world that most of us would never know existed if not for the efforts of folks carrying magnifying glasses and butterfly nets.

This future Aussie moth, the Uraba Lugens, has a very unique defense mechanism not included at birth. It actually creates that so very cool head dress as a defense against its arch enemy, the stink bug. 

As it grows, the uraba lugens has to discard one skin for a newer more roomier one. Not one to leave its trash kicking around for others to trip over, this catepillar eats its old skin but saves the head to become another ornament on top of the last head. And so it goes. Eventually as its end time nears, it looks like the dashing dude chilling a few lines up. The stink bug, who everyone knows is not the brightest bug to fly to the flame, becomes confused and befuddled when confronted with this five headed monstrosity. It loses its cool and blindly tries to stab its proboscis into one head after another attempting to suck out the little Uraba's vital juices. 

Looking good is far more important to these sharply festooned critters. It's a matter of survival.

All this bug watching and conversation again makes me wonder if I did miss my calling back in the day when I decided to not pursue a science oriented career. I can remember declaring I was going to be a marine biologist. And sharks were going to be my focus. ..........................

I will never know that "what if". All I can do is embrace what was, what is and what will be.

Later Gator ..........................................

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PS - Music this Sunday is an appropriate tune written by Tom Waits and this is by Beth Hart.

 I will close with a collage of a few locals who spend their summer here growing fat and beautiful.

God & Government

Tina commented this morning on Facebook. Her comment was a reaction to the new Anti-Abortion, Pro-Birther law passed recently in Texas. She wrote:

"Different hats, same goal, the Taliban have taken over Texas."

Hmm.

This is what happens when religious extremism mingles with politics. And while the Christian Evangelicals will cry unfair, not true, and become righteously indignant at being compared to suicide bombing losers from a religion they hate, there is credibility in the claim that the two religions at their core are not that far apart. And it is ironic that they do not see that they agree more than they disagree. But such is the nature of the average fanatic.

Abortion long ago stopped being about abortion and some false claim of protecting the sanctity of Life. Abortion is the spear that leads the charge of the Dominionists of White Christianity to force theocratic law into our everyday lives. The movement has had legs as long as there has been Christianity. Its influence has peaked and cratered at various times over the last two millennia. At this point it seems to be growing within the ranks of existing White Christians while at the same time White Christianity membership has shrunk from its super majority of 80% in 1976 to a new stable population of 44%. There are less of them overall, but the ones left are certainly an angry and dedicated bunch.

This scary supposition by an avowed Dominionist is replicated in various ways in articles and books by most of the Dominion advocates. If we are not believers, we have neither the intellect nor the moral right to govern ourselves. We need God to show us the way.

Again, like abortion, the Dominionists are just using Biblical interpretations they made up to hide their true intentions. They lurk behind a facade of religious ooga booga fire and brimstone gobbledygook they may or may not believe themselves. Their quest is to gain power and wield it without any question. It is that simple. 

Combine this new twist in Texas, all the other abortion twists in other states, the assault on voting rights and it seems we are headed to becoming a country ruled by a tyrannical white minority who use religion to hide their true intentions.

Be wary of all politicians, but be really afraid of those politicians who wield their Bibles in public. They do mean us harm.

Later ................................

Secret Progeny

Sometimes, while watching a movie or reading a book, I will stop a moment and wonder how close to reality is this story of fiction I am currently enjoying?  While some tales seem to knock out any hint of being realistic, other stories make you wonder if this could happen in real life.

Well, I have proof now that a good piece of fiction can envision the future in uncanny ways.

I point you to the image in the upper right.  Just what are the odds that twin poster boy Aryan assholes, Donald Trump and Boris Johnson, could become world leaders at the same time?  And that they came with similar messages and identical monkey cage antics?  

The answer is, there are no coincidences.  Their appearance on the world stage was foretold in the novel, "The Boys from Brazil", by Ira Levin.  It was made into a movie two years later that starred Laurence Olivier and Gregory Peck.  

"The Boys From Brazil" was about a Nazi hunter (Olivier) chasing down the notorious Dr. Josef Mengele, well played by Gregory Peck.  Apparently Mengele had, through in vitro fertilization, impregnated 12 women with eggs containing Hilter's sperm.  And in his sick mind, he did what he could to make sure their lives followed exactly Hitler's childhood years.  It was a good movie.  Not great, but I would watch it again.

I believe we are looking at two of the twelve secret progeny of Hitler.  Don't let their goofy bullshit fool you.  These two are dangerous with a big D.

Keep it 'tween the ditches ..........................................................

Moscow Mitch

 Moscow Mitch McConnell blocked Democrat sponsored election meddling bills yesterday.  His claimed partisan politics by Democrats rings hollow given that he had been key to lifting sanctions on a Russian mafia/business oligarch so he could get a piece of the $200 million aluminum plant to be constructed in his home state of Kentucky.

Folks may wonder why I hate the Right so much.  The over abundance of sleaze bags like Moscow Mitch found in the GOP is a good place to start.  Sure, the Democrats have their share, but, hands down, no one can do sleaze like a Republican can. 

Later ....................................................

The Most Dangerous Country on Earth

Earlier in the A.M. today, Morning Joe called North Korea the most dangerous country on Earth.

Hmm ...................

Seems to me he is not even close.  North Korea has only threatened to blow people up.  Surely it is a scary thing, making threats like that.  But what about the one country that has blown people up conventionally many times, and on at least two occasions, with nuclear weapons.

And now that the USA is under the control of a sleazy accumulation of spineless losers and lead by an amoral idiot, I would have to say the World should consider the USA the most dangerous country in the World.  Our track record warrants it.

Leaders throughout the World will always put their own self interests first.  In that pursuit, they will exploit every weakness they perceive another country has.  That is Geo -politics.

But every time one of our feckless leaders gets up on their high horse and preaches about how righteous the United States is, I want to retch.  Their self righteous ego inflating rhetoric would be amusing if the stakes were not so high.  And with nationalism currently riding a wave of popularity, dangerous consequences are a distinct possibility.

Fortunately over the years a set of rules, spoken and unspoken, have developed that keep the inter continental tussles to mostly battles of words, not weapons.  The one major consistent exception has been the USA.  But we only pick one fight at a time usually and we are well versed in the etiquette of browbeating diplomacy when we decide to use it.  No one can blow up the dress of a country like the USA can..

Now that the awesome and scary weaponry of the US is under the control of a mad man who thinks Canada burned the White House in 1812, the rest of the planet is right to worry.

Later ......................................
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Image courtesy of Anselm Yew Art

Trump Moths

In the pucker here in southern Maine, the outside critters pretty much do as they please.  Fur bearing, six legged, slimy or ones with wings have a paradise in which to exist.  Sure we locals of the human kind interrupt their rustic existence with roads, homes and gardens.  Rather than endanger the critters who live outside, we seem to offer them easy pickins that add comfort and guaranteed streams of sustenance.  It's as if  our homes and gardens are like McDonalds, fast and easy with drive by windows of opportunities.

Offsetting the constant battle to retain supremacy of the lands we have chopped out of the woods, is the beauty that pops in and then out on a daily basis.  Birds, fur bearing critters, and our outrageous numbers of Moths, Dragonflies, and Beetles all add a smile on my face whenever I happen upon one of them dressed up like they were headed out to party.

The moth above is fairly common around here.  I see them often.  Don't know what their scientific nerd name is, but I have decided to call them "Trump Moths" from here on out.  While most moths seem to mind their own business, some will eat the clothes off your back if you give them a chance.  I am guessing this moth is one of them.  Seduce me with his golden locks and pursed lips and the next thing you know, that last sweater Aunt Helen knitted me is history.

Happy Trails ............................................................

Chill Dude, We be Vegging

The local saying used to be "Shake a tree in Acton and 10 nail bangers would fall out".  That may still be true if one shakes the right tree, but I think the wood butchers need to make room for the Pot Farmers.    Pick a tree to shake now days and you are likely to hear 10 Pot farmers whine about their vibe being rudely disrupted, comments on disappearing Chi, or just that all that branch disruption is upsetting their day.  Some will even insist their whole Life's Cart is about to turn over.  Or...... a Doob will fall out of the tree tied to a note that says, "Chill Dude, We be Vegging".

Mr Domestic

So I'm cleaning cat litter trays earlier this AM and I remembered the almost promise I made the other day on the BoZone to return soon with another titillating post about the life and times of one MRMacrum.  I decided that once the litter trays were cleaned, the laundry dried and folded, and any other small token domestic chore I could think of was taken care of, I would pour myself another cup of coffee, sit down at the 'puter, fire it up, and punch up the blog.  I considered some multitasking.  Seemed a grand notion while typing whatever this will turn out to be, I could work on that new playlist for the MP3 player I have plugged into the stereo in the Ford Ranger.

So that is what I did.  Seems I'm not doing either one very well, but at least I ain't folding laundry. 

I do not want to give any impression or slyly toss in a hint that I may lay claim on the title, "Dutiful Husband" or even "Thoughtful Spouse".  You see it is Tax Season.  My wife, the accountant, is peaking right now.  Staying out of her way and helping out some may not even the dreary chore scales in our marital bliss, I will say making myself scarce and looking busy when she finds me to vent keeps my skin intact for the most part.  Staying busy playing Mr Domestic provides the perfect escape from the pent up tension and stress all accountants seem to pack on as April 15 approaches.

After what?......30 uh well after 30 plus years, I have gotten used to being the occasional whipping boy.  When I committed way back in 1980 I guess I meant it.  I knew I had my issues and baggage.  I had to be willing to accept her baggage if I expected her to accept mine.  Fair is fair.

~.~

After a decade or so with my green thumb on hold, I have decided to focus once again on tilling some soil.  The urge returned to dig in dirt and shove plants of varying kind into it.  I am hard into home owner agricultural planning.  I checked inventories of starting pots, soil mixtures, and clay pots I have on hand.  I created a list of what I needed to once again begin a Spring ritual I am not sure why I stopped in the first place.  Growing stuff is a rewarding endeavor.  Doesn't cost much more than some time and calorie burning.

I have shrubbery I want to take cuttings from and pass safely rooted and ready to go on to a good neighbor.  I might even keep some and sprinkle them around the yard.   I have some old raised beds reclaimed and almost ready for something...................foodwise or otherwise.  Yeah, it's time for me to reclaim my green thumb.  Oh I have maintained the yard these past years.  But only to control it. No pleasure, just doing the minimum to keep off the shit list here on Sam Page Road.  Time to step it up again.

The image up top is of the juniper variety living in the bed near the garage after a heavier than usual dew last summer.  Had to bum out the local spider population seeing as how the dew ruined the transparent factor of their webs during that early morning hunt. I imagine the one spider poking his head out is pissing and moaning about what Ma Nature left in his dooryard that morning. 

Later..............................................