Turn on the light when grabbing the mouthwash in the bathroom!
Did you ever have one of those weekends?
First the good news!
From today’s editorials, it is obvious that the culturally-isolated narcissists in both the Right and Left Wings of the national media are finally getting to understand that the Middle Class of the United States is fed up with getting the short end of the economic stick. It took a shock in the elections to bring them to realize that the trickle down theory was a big lie. Working people need decent incomes, if the United States is going to prosper.
Now the bad news!
It started out at 4:30 PM on Friday. A Windstream Telephone technician opened the panel of the DSL module near my cabin . . . disconnected my internet connection . . . closed the panel and drove off. Also, the telephone connection was so scratchy, I could barely hear the other person, when I called the phone company to complain. Since I was watching these events as they unfolded, I had immediately contacted Windstream Tech Support. The fellow on the phone spent an hour doing diagnostic tests and then concluded that my internet connection had been disconnected. Oh really, wasn’t that why I called you? He promised to have it fixed by this morning. It wasn’t. We will get to that later.
Come Saturday Morning
The next morning, I drove to the county library in order to notify people expecting communications from me that I was off line. I was supposed to do a telephone interview for a radio talk show today. That had to be postponed.
On the way to Downtown Dahlonega, a BIG BAD BLACK super-sized pickup with illegal black-tinted windshields, turned in behind me at Nibblewill Road. He was followed by a flatbed tow truck. Almost immediately, the gauges on my car dashboard went crazy and my engine started sputtering. What the (Expletive Deleted)? After tailing me for several miles, the two Imperial Stormtrooper spaceships pulled off the side of the road in order to communicate with the Imperial Death Star. I limped into town.
After communicating with all members of the Colonial Warriors Star Fleet, I reset the computer on my car. The car started and ran normally. Then I made the mistake of stopping at the Dollar General to get some cheap cans of soup. The Imperial Stormtrooper in the BIG, BAD BLACK pickup showed up again and pointed his ray gun at my helpless Explorer. This time, the car wouldn’t start at all.
Fortunately, I was next to a Auto Zone. I had to wait about 45 minutes until one of the clerks was free. He kindly brought a device, which determined that my battery was healthy, but completely deprived of electricity. He then brought out a high tech device that was the equivalent of your car drinking four cans of high caffeine sports drinks.
After a long struggle, whatever electronic spell had been cast on the car was lifted and I was able to drive off . . . but my gas gauge and radio no longer worked. I stopped by a convenience store to put more gasoline in the tank. I wasn’t sure how much it had. While I was at the convenience store, the BIG BAD BLACK pickup showed up again.
The car wouldn’t start, when I finished pumping gas. However, some kindly folks jumped me off. Now the gauges were working, though. I got home that afternoon just in time for a drenching, frigid rain to start. It would last until today. Along the way home, the BIG BAD BLACK pickup was waiting again at Nibblewill Road, but apparently, his Star Wars weapon didn’t work at a 90 degree angle.
Electromagnetic particle beams
What immediately came to my mind about the car thang, was a Star Wars radar gun. I read somewhere, several years ago, was that the Russians had developed a supersized version of what traffic cops use. It would stop a modern car in its tracks by burning out the computer that runs everything on modern cars. My Explorer is 12 years old, so it was merely walking wounded.
In Naval Officer training, I got a great education in how to survive in the wilderness and operate independently of an admiral telling me what to do . . . but no training in electronics. You see, when I was a freshman, the Navy gave us a bunch of tests. I scored off the chart on linguistics and deductive reasoning . . . perfect background for turning the history books upside down. However, when they tested me for body electricity, that also went off the scale. In fact, my body electricity destroyed the antiquated testing machine. They brought in a more modern device. It didn’t burn out, but confirmed the electrical field. From then on, the Navy wouldn’t let me near a submarine, airplane, helicopter or a CIC (Combat Information Center.)
The Navy eventually determined that I would be ideal for situations, where . . . if Marxist guerillas, speaking strange indigenous languages, captured me, I could translate all their secrets then electrocute them and escape. Even today, I have to fully extend my arms when using dowsing rods, because otherwise, the rods turn 90 degrees toward me!
HOWEVER, I have a Creek relative, who did get a lot of experience in top secret electronics from the Navy. In fact, both of us were so top secret that neither knew what the other did in their young manhood, until a few months ago. It seems that the US Navy likes to employ Creeks and Seminoles for unusual assignments. I called him up Saturday night.
My electronics jock relative didn’t laugh at me. In fact, he knew exactly what I had experienced as soon as I bashfully described the weirdness. He said that the Big Black pickup was carrying a Electronic Particle Beam weapon. Particle Beam weapon? I thought that was something in the future . . . and what in the heck was some white trash Nazi in Jawja doing with a Star Wars type weapon?
That’s a good question, but my relative didn’t answer it . . . other than saying that the future is now . . . but I thought only people like the SEALS, FBI and Delta Force are the only ones who are supposed to have such things. However, the MPB weapon explained another weirdness. Beginning in June, my dogs would occasionally yelp in pain when I let them out to pee in the morning. They would afterward bark angrily at the woods behind the cabin. Some of the times I would hear something pushing through the undergrowth heading away from the cabin, but couldn’t see anything. Afterwards, round circles of burned hair would appear on my dogs. They have some serious health problems resulting from these weird attacks, but I couldn’t figure out what was being done, when I took them to the vet.
Again, how did white trash Nazi’s get ahold of these dangerous weapons? With enough money, can you order them online?
A couple of weeks ago, I actually saw one of the ninja nerds before he could fire his weapon. Most of the leaves were down and the dogs were barking at him. He was dressed in black and carrying something that looked like a highway trooper’s radar gun. YET . . . how does one make a complaint about something like this? No bullets being fired . . . no evidence . . . no nothing. The reaction of most sheriff’s departments would be to order a sanity hearing. GREAT ! Now domestic terrorists have star wars weapons that leave no trace.
It was a miserable, wet, cold weekend so I thought by cooking a ham in a iron pot over my wood stove, I would salvage something from my morale or at least warm my tummy. I had bought the ham on special Friday afternoon.
No wonder the ham was only $1.09 a pound. The ham was spoiled! It tasted like Staphylococcus aureus (Only a former professional goat cheesemaker like myself can identify pathogenic bacteria by its taste.) I spit it out in disgust and filled up with home grown beans and butternut squash. About an hour after dinner the staph started causing a sore throat from the contaminated ham.
I raced to the bathroom, but was too much of a hurry to turn on the light. I grabbed the high-priced bottle of disinfectant mouth wash and tossed a swig into my mouth. OMG It tasted like Drano and had the smell that comes from the crooks in Dawson County stewing meth. I looked again at the mouthwash bottle. Oh (Expletive Deleted)! If it tastes like Drano, smells like Drano and burns like Drano . . . by golly it must be Drano. Actually, it was Liquid Plumber . . . but it seems that high-end mouthwash and Liquid Plumber are sold in exactly the same white plastic container.
Warning: Do not try this experiment at home. The gargling of Liquid Plumber, portrayed in this movie, was done by an idiot.
No internet? Case closed
The internet was still not working this morning and my telephone service was still scratchy. On top of that the bad ham had caused Montezuma’s Revenge. As soon as Windstream Tech Support opened for business, I called them. The technician first told me that a ticket had been issued on Friday afternoon. It had been referred to engineering. Engineering had reported the problem fixed on Saturday and closed the case.
I told the technician that my internet was still not working and that I had been zapped by neo-nazi’s carrying particle beam weapons on Saturday . . . endured two days of cold rain . . . gotten food poisoning from a contaminated ham Sunday night and gargled with Drano before going to bed. I was not in a good mood.
Eventually . . . about an hour later . . . a “second tier” Windstream technician was able to fix the problem by pushing some buttons on her end, while I pressed down on a button on the internet module with a toothpick from my end. Life is getting back to normal again, but telephone is still scratchy. I can live with that for awhile.
My guess is that something bad is coming down the pike . . . and soon. The Nazi’s in these here parts are getting paranoid, if they are bothering former goat herders like me. So how was your weekend?
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Richard Thornton is a professional architect, city planner, author and museum exhibit designer-builder. He is today considered one of the nation’s leading experts on the Southeastern Indians. However, that was not always the case. While at Georgia Tech Richard was the first winner of the Barrett Fellowship, which enabled him to study Mesoamerican architecture and culture in Mexico under the auspices of the Institutio Nacional de Antropoligia e Historia. Dr. Roman Piňa-Chan, the famous archaeologist and director of the Museo Nacional de Antropologia, was his fellowship coordinator. For decades afterward, he lectured at universities and professional societies around the Southeast on Mesoamerican architecture, while knowing very little about his own Creek heritage. Then he was hired to carry out projects for the Muscogee-Creek Nation in Oklahoma. The rest is history.Richard is the Tribal Historic Preservation Officer for the KVWETV (Coweta) Creek Tribe and a member of the Perdido Bay Creek Tribe. In 2009 he was the architect for Oklahoma’s Trail of Tears Memorial at Council Oak Park in Tulsa. He is the president of the Apalache Foundation, which is sponsoring research into the advanced indigenous societies of the Lower Southeast.
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