It warms me, it warms me not

global_warming 1“Global warming is real – it is man-made and it is a problem. But it’s not the end of the world.” – Bjorn Lomberg, former director of the Environmental Assessment Institute in Copenhagen and author of the best-selling book, “The Skeptical Environmentalist”.

“I believe that global warming is a myth. And so, therefore, I have no conscience problems at all and I’m going to buy a Suburban next time.” – Rev. Jerry Falwell (1933-2007) , the late TV evangelist and ultra-conservative political commentator.

This argument over whether or not we’re slow-cooking the world and ourselves has been raging for years now. And frankly I’ve grown tired of it. In fact, if we capped and sealed every blowhard spewing from both sides of this issue we’d go a long way toward solving two problems – probably reduce carbon emissions by at least 10% and the energy we’d harness from them could power every smartphone and iPad from this shining sea to the other one.

A nice idea but it ain’t going to happen. So, go to Plan B. Find another way to end this seemingly never-ending worldwide snit. Settle this argument once and for all. One way or the other. I went looking. Couple days later, I found the answer. Actually, the answer.

Yes Virginia, there is global warming. And I have the proof.
laughing goatStraight from the goat’s mouth. Well, more like indirectly. Straight into 800 goats’ mouths and then out their other ends.

You see, for the definitive verdict on global warming – the proof is the pooping.

One summer’s morning last month, in the sleepy New England town of Windsor, Vermont, residents woke up to find their nostrils curdling. Evidently not the usual way the day begins up there, leaving more than one wondering aloud, “Yikes, what the hell is that smell?”

A very good question, since the whole town was smelling it. The authorities were called and the search for the stench began and soon ended at the Oak Knoll Diary, a 800-goat farm located just south of town.

There, they and the owners found a 120 cubic-yard pile of goat crap. They also found it spewing smoke and flames. But no matches nearby. No flammable liquids. And no arsonists. But still, they got their man-ure.

According to a UPI news account, officials alerted the public via the “Windsor, Birthplace of Vermont” Facebook page.

“We have been getting a lot of calls about the odor permeating our community that smells like the town is on fire,” the post read. “Here is the answer: Very early this morning a pile of goat manure spontaneously combusted. The fire department is on the scene and taking care of it. There is no danger to life or property.”

Maybe they should make that the “Windsor, Fireplace of Vermont” Facebook page. Said George Redick, who owns the farm with his wife, Karen Lindbo, “I used to think (spontaneous combustion) was make-believe, but now I’m a believer.”

Spontaneous combustion. One minute, poop. Next minute, poof. Where there’s shit, there’s fire. Uh, things probably got to get pretty warm around here to make excrement explode and ignite, right?
steaming pile of shitI rest my case.

5 Rules for Writing Every Day

If you write, you should read this. If you write, but sometimes find you just can’t do it, you should read this. And if you … ah hell, just read this. Doesn’t matter what you do. A very good post on a great blog.

Dysfunctional Literacy

In every writer’s class I’ve taken and every writer’s group I’ve been in, there was always somebody who said that the most important rule to writing was to “write every day.”  I’m usually pretty good at following rules, but this one has always been stated with such pomposity that I’ve wanted to argue, except I’m a quiet person who doesn’t like to make scenes, so I’ve always kept my mouth shut.

Writing every day is a great rule if you’re a full-time writer, but I have a full-time job that has nothing to do with writing, and I have a family, so it’s not easy to simply “write every day.”  Life is stressful, and trying to write every day (when I tried it) made it even worse.  In order to write Dysfunctional Literacy without adding more unnecessary stress to my life, I’ve adapted.  Now I have five simple rules that…

View original post 711 more words

Moose 101

hidden mooseI live in Connecticut, one of the original 13 states of these United States. Part of Ye Olde New England. It’s a small state, with a little more than 3.5 million people and about 73 million trees. Lots of forest, that is.

With so few people and so many trees you’d think, even in these modern times, we’d be pretty accustomed to seeing things like birds, squirrels, raccoons, deer, Peeping Toms, Avon ladies and other wildlife in and amongst all of that wild and largely untamed timber.

But no. A few days ago, a wayward moose wandered through four rural Connecticut towns, causing general agog-ness with the residents and even commandeering a few minutes on the state TV stations’ local news programs.

Nothing earth-shattering. Unless you’re me – because I’ve realized people around here don’t know anything about the moose! This is not good but fear not, all is not lost. Since I just happen to be the author of “The Illustrated Guide to the Moose.”

Bullwinkle 1This is a moose. Look at him closely. Burn his image into your brain. For to know a moose, one must know what the hell a moose looks like. In case one’s standing ahead of you in the checkout line. Remember – knowledge is power.

But just recognizing a moose doesn’t mean you understand one, really know one. What’s to know about a moose, you say? Read on grasshopper. You too can learn the ways of the mighty moose.

Way No. 1

bullwinkle cooks Moose cannot cook. That’s why they forage in the forests and marshlands and eat, um, a lot of wet green things. So, if you walk into a diner, look behind the counter and see a moose like the one above – play it safe. Just order a salad.

Way No. 2

Bullwinkle QBMoose cannot play football. So, if you’re sitting down on any given Sunday, flip on the big game and see a quarterback resembling the player illustrated above – call your bookie and bet your wallet, car, house, even your family on the opposing team.

Way No. 3

bullwinkle driveMoose do not drive. But they have been known to get behind the wheel, as illustrated above. So, say you’re sitting on a city bus and happen to notice the driver has antlers – get off at the next stop, walk away and don’t look back. Even if you happen to be a flying squirrel wearing a leather aviator’s helmet.

Way No. 4

bullwinkle magicMoose cannot do magic tricks. Yes, this fact of life appears to be news to the poor tuxedoed moose in the above illustration. That is, until you’re informed that he was trying to pull a rabbit out of that hat.

OK, so now you know what a moose cannot do. But they must be able to do something, you say.

Funny you should say that.

Way No. 5

Bullwinkle runsMoose can run. Moose are big. Moose are tall. And most of a moose is made up of four big, long legs. Four more than you have. Do not challenge a moose to a 100-yard dash, a four-moose relay race, even a from-here-to-that-tree-and-back race. You will lose and he will own not only own the above trophy, but your pride.

And finally,

Way No. 6

bullwinkle fliesMoose can fly.