Book Review

O.K., this is how you do science fiction/fantasy/horror. As opposed to this.

In anticipation of Isaac's visit and presuming he would not let us down, I got an extra book from the library to pass the time when the power would be out. Despite events, I read it anyway.

The Strain, a collaboration between Guillermo del Toro (for some strange reason shelved under "T") and Chuck Hogan (shelved under "T" because he's the second banana in this partnership) uses science, and uses it well, to justify a vampire outbreak in New York City.

I don't feel too bad about the spoiler because the book leads off with one of its own. In spite of that, and a little too much explicit foreboding on the part of people who probably shouldn't feel it just yet, the authors manage to create an aura of palpable and growing fear from the straightforward procedural of dealing with an anomalous plane landing at JFK airport. As the response to the situation escalates from the tower, to airport security, to the TSA, the local CDC rapid response unit, the NYPD SWAT team comes the realization that no one has a clue and that standard operating procedures are only going to make things worse.

One of the things I hate about disaster books and films is that the characters frequently bring about their own fates by doing blatantly stupid things: wandering off alone, ignoring specific orders, breaking professional rules, etc. I have little sympathy for them when they meet their justly deserved fates. Here, however, bad things happen and civilization starts to fall precisely because everyone follows the rules and goes by the book. The first responder tactics, epidemiology and morgue procedures, in particular, are all handled very well. And the rat catcher knows his business.

Even at the end of this volume, when the ad hoc team that has come together after finally realizing the peril manages to video one of the victims, their only recourse, since the authorities are still in denial and trying to avoid panic by suppressing the news, is to upload it to YouTube--where, we find out in the second volume, it is mocked, parodied, trolled and generally disparaged. Yes, indeed, this is how it will end.

A couple of minor quibbles. As mentioned above, there's a little too much giveaway at the beginning. The tension would've been even higher if I didn't know it was a vampire story going in. (And I don't feel bad about giving that away since the book already does for anyone who gets past page three.) And the character names can be awkward, at best. Ephraim is not a name I ever expect to encounter outside a history book and, really, why would any parent ever name their kid "Eldritch"? Also, in the last battle with the Master, would you really break off in the middle of the fight which you appear to be winning, leaving one of your own alone against the prime villain, in order to attend to the other member of your party who is having a heart attack? Seems a little Deus ex machina coming down on the bad guy's side.


The Strain is the first in a trilogy. I've already picked up volume two, The Fall, and am looking forward to Night Eternal. Find it for yourself.

On the Effectiveness of Warding Talismans

So Isaac passed us by. It's not surprising seeing how well prepared we were.

It's seems the more actions taken in anticipation of an event the less likely the event becomes, almost as if the preparation itself is a kind of shield.

We had stocked up on non-perishable, pre-cooked food. We pulled out our flashlights and candles and filled water jugs in addition to the bottles of various juices already on hand. We rummaged through the garage in a successful search for Sterno so we could, in the event, heat the food that needed no cooking anyway. We pulled in the lawn furniture, snugging it up along the picket fence leading to the front door, and and pushed the trash bins against the garage weighting the lids with spare tires.

And Isaac came on.

The county removed the tolls from the various bridges although I'm not sure why since they're paid one way only, and that westbound, meaning anyone evacuating the barrier islands or the Cape eastbound crosses for free normally anyway. The county also closed all government offices, courts, libraries, etc. The cities closed schools. The county ordered mandatory evacuation of the islands and some mainland beach communities but was generally ignored.

And still Isaac came on.

I think what finally did the trick was my brother getting up early Sunday morning to go out and buy 25 gallons of gasoline for the generator. Within hours of his return, Isaac gave up and took a jog out to sea.

In the end, nothing happened. Sunday was overcast. Only after dark did the wind pick up intermittently with a smattering of rain. Three transformers blew up in the neighborhood but down here virtually every telephone pole also carries a transformer so, except for the actual explosions, the effects were negligible. Monday alternated between gray with moderate winds and occasional squally rain and bright sunny calm blue sky. There was a heavy cloud bank off to the west out over the Gulf and some thunder and lightning up north but nothing near us. In all, we received barely two inches of rain. The Atlantic coast and Lake Okeechobee (further away from the storm) received anywhere from three to ten times as much.

My brother expressed relief he didn't waste the energy boarding up any windows. The way the talismans worked, both ours and the county's, if he had, Isaac might just have evaporated away.

The Calm Before

Isaac is on his way. Currently, there is a hurricane warning from the keys up to Bonita Beach which is about twenty miles south of us. We have a tropical storm watch notice.

Yesterday was perfect. Warm, sunny, high broken clouds. No humidity. In other words, a tease. While still warm and dry, today is heavily overcast with high, thick clouds thinning slightly to the north. Under that cover lurks a bank of cumulus covering most of the southern horizon. These clouds are not Isaac but are being pushed ahead of the storm as it nears. Wind is gentle from the west. Water in our numerous canals is slightly roiled.

Isaac is supposed to stay out to sea and become stronger as it passes us. That means probably less wind (first from the east, then south and, finally, west) but more rain as the cyclonic spin carries water to us from the Gulf without first passing over other land. Rain is scheduled to start sometime this evening and could last for two or three days. There will be flooding.

We have stocked up on canned goods (the kind that can be eaten directly from the tin in case the power goes off although I'll probably stick with the tuna as canned ravioli and packages of chicken 'n' dumplings in pasty "gravy" appeal only slightly more than cannibalism as menu options), bottled juices, bread and cat food (a necessity since I am confident the cat would have no compunction about considering either of us menu options if the need/opportunity arose). Our flashlights and emergency radio are crank operated so batteries are not an issue. We could use more peanut butter and I'll pick up another book from the library. I'll have to remember to do laundry tonight.

Odds are none of this will be necessary (except the laundry).

Undersharing and Overstocking

Our local supermarket changes its specials and sale items mid-week and the circular for the upcoming week appears in the paper on Wednesday before the Thursday changeover which means we have about twelve hours of overlap wherein we can avoid buying an item today which will go on sale tomorrow and purchase an item today which will go off sale tomorrow. It's a moderately efficient system for saving a little bit here and there at no additional cost.

My brother and I both went shopping yesterday. Separately. Without informing the other of our intent.

We did both buy things the other did not. But we also both bought sale items. In quantity.

While we still need to go back and stock up on non-perishable staples (and cat food) in anticipation of Isaac's visit, it's comforting to know that, with seven pounds of bacon and six 24 oz. bottles of pancake syrup, we can host breakfast for the neighborhood should the need arise.

Hmmmm, bacon.

The Cupcakes of Desperation

My Brother came home from the bar last night with a couple of treats: two homemade cupcakes, each topped with frosting and a half Twinkie decorated to look like minions from "Despicable Me." He gave me the single-eye-goggled one and kept the double-eyed one for himself.


A quick Google Image Search reveals that Minion Cupcakes
are a thing out there in the world. Who knew?

Apparently, someone's child had been diagnosed with cancer and this was one of the ways they are trying to raise the funds for her treatment.
I am quite confident that, if you were to ask anyone in that bar (this being southern Florida), they would all profess to be adamantly opposed to Obamacare, opposed to government mandated health insurance, opposed to "socialized medicine," and, in addition, are all oblivious not just to the irony but the pure obscenity of having to hold a bake sale to raise funds for life saving treatment for a child (or anyone else, for that matter). My Brother lost his own health insurance last year when his employer unilaterally decided to drop it. Still, he would rather die (and doesn't recognize the increased odds of that happening) than vote for a Democrat. Instead, they all buy cupcakes at $2 a piece and hope things work out because that's the way it is.

On a not entirely unrelated note, my niece (12 years old) is facing her third open heart surgery this fall. Although her parents do have health insurance, and most of the direct bills will be covered, the incidental expenses, ranging from food and parking during hospital stays in Boston to lost income during parental custodial time off and additional doctor bills, means they have had to set up a (slightly more organized) fundraiser for her.

It's wonderful to live in a first-world country in the Twenty-first Century. I'd like to try it some day.

Happie Takes Manhattan

Local goat makes good!

Happie the three-year-old skateboarding Nigerian pygmy goat will be getting her fifteen minutes of fame on the Late Show with David Letterman next week.

She and her people are flying up to New York and taping the show to air on Tuesday, August 21.

And that's not all. Apparently Happie is already on Animal Planet's "Wall of Fame," whatever that is, and will appear on a Nickleodeon game show sometime in the fall.

The Cat Is "Out"

This is the sign my brother and I set out for each other to let us know Bartleby's current status. Now that she is secure in her position as ruler of the household, she sometimes desires to return, temporarily, to the wild (meaning the front walk with an occasional foray to the upper reaches of the driveway). Usually, these excursions last no longer than it takes us to go to the mailbox and back but, every now and then, she'll decide to stay out.

Since our schedules (My brother's and mine, that is. Bartleby keeps her own.) hardly overlap, and one or the other of us is either away or asleep at any given time, the use of the sign obviates the need to search for the cat.

Why is it necessary to search for the cat in the first place? Because she has the unfortunate habit of fouling wherever her favorite spot is and then abandoning it. She's barred from entering either my bedroom or bathroom.

She refuses to enter my brother's room, in which she used to live. We don't know why. He's searched. It is what it is.

She tried to take up residence on the dining room table but after repeatedly being hollered at by both of us has finally taken the hint and abandoned that idea.

For a while, she parked herself on the entryway rug right by the front door where we would be sure to trip over her when coming home in the dark, but she horked up a hairball there and, despite the rug being thoroughly cleaned (or perhaps because of the cleaning?) she's given up her career as speed bump.

Recently, Bartleby figured out how to open the below counter kitchen cabinets and has been exploring caches of pots and pans and various serving dishes that are only taken out once or twice a year for holidays and birthdays. I came home recently, and feared something had happened isnce I could find neither her nor my brother. My brother, it turned out, had merely gone shopping early. Bartleby had managed to open the pantry door and ensconced herself half in/half on an empty cardboard box on the floor next to the bowl of onions.

Even when the cat is in, the cat is out.

Virtue and Its Rewards

Virtue, I discover, is not its own reward.

In the past three days, I have voted (for some county commissioners and a couple of school board aspirants and local judges--all non-partisan races since I do not belong to a party) and donated platelets. Those are my demonstrably virtuous deeds for this week. In both cases, the people monitoring the events were not willing to let virtue be its own reward. Oh, no.

They gave me cookies!

Cookies for voting! Cookies for donating blood! And a T-shirt, too, for the blood thing but the important point here is: Cookies!! A pecan sandy for my vote, and chocolate chip and oatmeal raisin for my white corpuscles.

Yes, I can be bought, and I'm cheap, too!

Nature, High and Low

Well, Mother Nature betrayed us again this past weekend.

The cat and I went out several times over three nights trying to spot meteors (O.K., I confess I have no idea what the cat was looking for but she insisted on joining me). The sky was just overcast enough to block anything interesting. Not complete cloud cover, we could see some stars, but enough to cause backscatter from the city lights across the river, graying out the darkness.

On the bright side, I just found out that our (relatively) local alligator farm over near Lake Okeechobee is in the middle of their hatching season and for $10 will allow you to hold a hatching egg and even help the little critter emerge.

Have to admire the single-minded determination

involved in biting the hand that helps to birth you.

(And, yes, that's a missing finger in the top photo!)

The Longest Season: Paranoia or Dirty Tricks?

I went to the library this morning and just outside the main door, as has been the case on most days recently, was a pleasant older lady with a clipboard and paperwork asking people if they were registered to vote and, if not, please take a moment to fill out the form and register. Very good-citizeny and the epitome of positive local activism.

Except.

As I walked on past (being already registered and thus immune to her civic blandishments) I heard her say to the gentleman she was just finishing up with as he turned away, "Oh, by the way, if the election were held today, who would you vote for?"

Now, perhaps I am too cynical. Perhaps I am paranoid. Perhaps she was just expressing friendly curiosity.

I narced her out to the head librarian anyway.

It seems some of the people doing sidewalk registrations are from the county clerk's office but some are volunteers from the two major political parties. And, if you are a partisan in the political process, it is extremely inappropriate to ask, when you are registering a new voter, ". . .(W)ho would you vote for?" It can certainly leave the impression that, if you answer "incorrectly," you're registration just might not get filed.

Usually, on these sorts of expeditions both parties are represented at the same time (no doubt to keep each other honest) but, when I went by, there was only the one woman active. I'm sure it was just a coincidence the librarian thought it was the Republican.

(The gentleman in question refused to answer the canvasser's question and the head librarian is filing an official complaint.)

Happie Days

I was going to write about receiving in the mail my sample ballot for the upcoming primary election and noting how it has a space for the Democratic primary which absolutely no one has mentioned since there are umpty-gajiliion Republicans running against each other and only one challenger to the incumbent Democratic U.S. senator and how in some races independents and even Democrats can vote in the Republican primary because this is such a conservative area (despite Florida being an almost-evenly-balanced swing state) that, in some local races, there are no Democratic opponents thus making the primary effectively the general election but . . . hey! Happie, the local 3-year-old skateboarding Nigerian dwarf cross goat, just made the Guinness World Records!

The story itself is pretty cute (Happie does tricks like a dog, too) but what originally got my attention was the delightfully irrelevant caption which accompanied one of the photos in the newspaper article.

While teaching Happie to skateboard, Melody Cooke
was also accepted to the Wharton School of Business.
/ Lindsay Terry/news-press.com

Is Melody perhaps feeding Happie the remains of the acceptance letter?

Anyway, politics some other day. Today: Happie, the world record holder!



Sexy Republicans

And now the fun starts.

Local politics is almost always more entertaining than the national sort, what with all the handlers, spinners, rough-edge-sanders and consulting befoggers employed by the big guys. We now have a delightful little scandal being puffed up here.

One of the local Republican candidates for US Congress, a former talking head on a local Fox radio station and Tea Party favorite, before announcing his candidacy, went out and bought website domain names for a number of his primary opponents forcing them to use less desirable alternatives (i.e., "So-'n'-so4Congress.com" as opposed to "So-'n'-soforCongress.com") and setting up pages attached to those names which trashed the candidates they were supposedly supporting. Now, as dirty tricks go, this was fairly innocuous. And, besides, this is the 21st Century. Do you want to vote for a candidate who doesn't understand the Internet or social media?

When the other candidates noticed and struck back they also noticed something else. It seems Mr. Candidate had also in the past bought a number of questionable domain names, many in Spanish.

The upshot is there is now a TV commercial, paid for by someone's SuperPac, that is just beautiful (although I can not yet find it on the Web). It starts with a blank screen and and "Advisory Warning" for content and then proceeds to list the raunchy domains with the actual names covered by a black censorship bar while questioning the morals of any alleged conservative who would purchase such things.

The ad must have hit home because within two days the candidate's wife, also a TV talking head currently on leave while her husband runs, appeared in front of a plain simple white (for purity) background speaking with well-practiced sincerity about how nasty politics can be. Especially, the false, negative ads accusing her husband of things he has admitted to and are on the record. And please ignore her husband's business practices.

It's twelve days to the primary. And I'm enjoying the ride.

Bartleby Supreme

I have been assigned my purpose in life. It is to be Footstool-to-the-Cat. The cat assigned it.

When I am not around, she lies on the entrance rug near both the front door and her food and water. But whenever I sit down, every time I sit down, she sits up, decides whether or not I intend to stay put for a while and, if she thinks the answer is yes, jumps up, runs over to me and plops herself down on my feet. Not at my feet, on.

Shoes, socks, bare feet. Makes no difference. If only one foot is available, she'll wrap herself around my ankle. If both are within reach, she'll settle her belly across the one and hug the other with her fore paws nestling her chin on my instep. And there she will stay until I have to move.

She's not a big cat but she nonetheless generates an impressive amount of heat. In the winter this might be quite comfortable but right now, with outside temperatures in the mid-90s and the thermostat set at 80, 45 minutes is about my maximum tolerance.

I do have to admit the purring has a nice subtle massaging effect.

And, as far as Bartleby is concerned, my life now has meaning.

The Mohawk Reef Guest Book Gets A Big One

The new reef off Marco Island created by the sinking of the USCGC Mohawk has been very popular not just with divers but with fish of all kinds. Within days of the sinking, blackfin tuna, among many others, were reported in the area. On Sunday, divers from Fantasea Scuba saw (and photographed) the largest visitor of all, a whale shark, just hanging around.

Sun Sports, the local Fox sports channel, will be re-broadcasting a program by ScubaNation on diving the Mohawk reef this weekend. It should also be on-line at some point.