Tuesday, July 31, 2007

Ray's Thought for the Day - Hot!

Yepper, the fickle Ogma afflicted me somewhat today. Apparently Beelzebubberriffic is waxing more Bellzebubberiffically typical in these parts. Great! There's nothing quite like werkin' in the sun on a day like today.

Werkin' in the sun had me thinking about all the threats to my way of life, like sunstroke, insect bites, insect stings, thorns, stickers, empty canteen, no lunch break, no handkerchief, no baseball cap, wet feet, no leather gloves and an inner thigh chafing event. Further down the list, like maybe last, are the miserable Muslim terrorists.

Noper, my lifestyle is so minimally threatened by Muslim terrorists that honestly, I am more afraid of a tree falling on me. Ha! Unlikely that. No tree has ever fallen on a Druid, much less a Sun God Trainee, such as myself. Unless of course, one counts the unlucky Baldir as a Sun God. And unless one considers a twig, a tree. Er. Come to think of it, Jesus had some bad luck associated with a wood product. But no tree ever actually fell on a Druid.

Here's some free advice if you are maybe afflicted with Republicans in your daily life. The Republicans whine and whine incessantly about how the Muslim terrorists, Islamic fascists, or whatever are a big threat to our way of life. If you hear that spell, spell back, It's your way of life, not our way of life.

Of course, if you have invested heavily in the offense industry, or bought real estate in beautiful Iraqi Kurdistan, or received a nice Homeland Insecurity contract, it is your way of life and you probably do not need this free advice.

Er. So rethinking from the Republican perspective, Are miserable Muslim terrorists good for business? Yep. No doubt about it. They are plenty good for business. So why are Muslim terrorists such a threat to your way of life? Easy that. You Republicans are lying again. Naughty! Naughty! No wonder Chitlin and Rumpler always smirk when commenting that our policies may be creating more terrorists than we are killing.

Monday, July 30, 2007

Ray's Rainfall Update - Werkin' in the Sun

Just like historic white persons, I been werkin' in the sun. But yesterday, the rains came. So, the new sum is 40.15" + 0.52" = 40.67". Mercy though. The rain may be fixing to quit for a while. Yet surely, more clouds shall darken the visage of fickle Ogma, now, as I require that visage darkened, most.

What Sets US Off (from the rest of the animals) -revised

Easy that. The urge to accumulate. No other animal accumulates like US. We store stuff up, for future use, for swapping, or just for the heck of it, because we can.

Interestingly, the individual capacity for storing stuff up, apparently varies within the species. Some are apparently better at it than others. This variability in the capacity for storing stuff up is known as intelligence. Plus, the very intelligent not only store up lots of stuff, the very intelligent are discriminating, storing up high value stuff, like money, stocks, bonds, gold, diamonds and real estate. The less intelligent store up junk. Sometimes, by accident, the junk also acquires a generic and semi-transferrable (swap) value, maybe. Anyone want to purchase a Barry Bonds baseball card, pre-testosterone enhancement?

A derivative of the above is the great, common sense put down: If yer so smart, how come ye aint rich? That put down is a discussion ender, all righty then, unless the alleged smart person participating in the discussion is actually rich. Unlikely that. But the alleged rich person may continue the discussion with, I am too rich. I am rich in _______.

The intelligent capacity for storage is also the basis of civilization as we know it. Consequently, we have stored up a few reasons to account for storage as the basis of our civilization, associating storage with our best reasons, excuses, or ideals, like freedom, for example. The storage society definition of freedom is, The individual has the right to store up as much as the intelligence of the individual allows. Anything that interferes with freedom is bad, or even, evil. Freedom, by the way, is an ideal. A best reason would be, So I don’t run out. An excuse would be, It’s not my fault, I inherited it.

Naturally, since the intelligent capacity for storage is integrally linked with freedom, that freedom to store stuff up must be a God given right. Since it’s a God given right, it must be universally applicable. So if a dumb person acquires stuff without ever doing anything at all, via for example, inheritance, or Lotto, that’s God given too. These events, inheriting and Lotto, level the playing field so that even serious dumb butts like our Kinglet may enjoy storage, freedom and God.

In the pre-capitalist good old days, all the above was bullshit. The King and a bunch of his Nobles had all the storage capacity plus all the stored stuff. That’s why the notion that everyone, theoretically, has the right to store up as much stuff as their intelligence allows them to store up is a revolutionary idea. That’s also why revolts were needed to take all the stuff away from the King. Plus, the King’s stuff was directly derived from God in the first place, which still makes some potential, theoretical revolutionaries feel guilty.

Here’s how that King thing worked. King is born. King survives childhood diseases. King gets all the stuff when old King pegs out. Many Kings even inherited people as stuff. Yep. Those Kings stored people like you may store buttons. If the King gave his stored people stuff, he was a good King. If he didn’t give them any of his stuff, and too many of his people had nothing, not even turnips, and died as a result of having nothing, he was a bad King. That’s how we got the great idea, Labor is a commodity like any other commodity. The people were supposed to work so that the King would have more stuff than just a bunch of commodity people expecting to be fed all the time. So the people worked producing commodities and soon the work of the people was just another commodity. Makes perfect sense. Right!

So that about sums up human progress among US to date, versus the other animals and versus many within our own species who may be too dumb to store up plenty of stuff. Too bad for those dumb butts. Huh, huh!

Yet where do we freedom lovers get the stuff in the first place? And is the stuff, really infinite? Ha! Ask the bees what the Druids know!

Sunday, July 29, 2007

Ray’s Thought for the Day - Cruiser and the Losers

On Day 14, even though the Great Bicycle Race continues, the race is more of a promenade on bicycles, than an actual race. Look at me. I finished the Great Bicycle Race. Let the record show that this year I came in, 144th. Gimme some more of that champagne. Whoa! Where’s the Comfort Station?

Yep, all the losers families and friends have made the arduous trip to gay Paris. There they all are, lining the Great Bicycle Race route, cheering on each and every surviving cyclist. Some of those surviving cyclists actually fell off their bicycles after racing into dogs. Yet even those afflicted by dog collisions shall probably finish up anyway, now that they have lasted to the promenade portion of the Great Bicycle Race.

Day 14 of the Great Bicycle Race may be a hard sell to the advertisers of the Great Bicycle Race. Let’s see, that would be the male enhancement, urinary tract maintenance, energy drink, sports car, and racing bicycle paraphernalia industries. Or maybe not. Maybe those advertisers assume that the promenade is a great occasion for TV spectator repressive desublimation, a Valhalla of make believe.

Spelling of make believe, our precious Kinglet feels like he is directing the course of history. History, according to the Kinglet version, shall show that the Kinglet’s personal antics shall be generally reviewed as savior-like. A tiny comparison; Joe, Joe, Stalin, Dare to Struggle, Dare to Win, felt like Darwin was full of shit, too.

But back to the Great Bicycle Race. There they go. Tres excitement! Hold it! We're near the end! They've lost the feed again!

Saturday, July 28, 2007

Crumby Meets Plagiometriona clavata

There I was out in a really wild part of the east pasture which is the forbidding north third of the east pasture, approximately. A fair sized coachwhip habitates out there. That coachwhip likes to sneak up on me.

There I was alert for that coachwhip when all of a sudden a tiny flying saucer zipped by. Dern it. What the heck was that? It landed on the underside of a handy Ipomoea trichocarpa leaf.

There I was. I reached under that leaf, surprisingly coming up with a shiny gold elliptic shaped little thing. It sat there on my palm for a lamb's tail shake, then zipped off. But before it zipped off, I espied it well.

I know what that is, I surmised. I have seen a picture of that very organism. It is a beetle. It is, in fact, one of those beetles that has the head covered by the arcuate yet seemingly transparent front margin of the pronotum. That beetle probably espied me through its pronotum before it flew off.

So that was the first and only time I have met up with Plagiometriona clavata. Yet there is plenty of reason to suspect I shall meet up with that beetle again, anon. The Ipomoea trichocarpa is having a big year in DY 1 and that's what those beetles eat. So I just need to check around on the morning glorys until another one of those beetles shows up. Then I may capture that lucky beetle long enough to take its picture.

Backtracking, there I was.
Lulu, get that coachwhip! There it goes. Get 'em.
Terriers are at there handiest when snakes are sneaking up on me. I may need a couple more of those terriers.

There I was. I needed to think. So since Lulu was taking care of the dern serpents, I assumed the classic one legged thought posture that all Druids use when they need to think more than usual. That was OK to do in terms of Potential Safety Topics because Lulu had the serpents occupied. First I thought, I need to go look that beetle up before I forget to look that beetle up. Second, I thought, my dern beetle Dovers have been borrowed for quite a spell. I need to lay claim to my own dern beetle Dovers so I can return the borrowed beetle Dovers to their rightful owner who may be needing them urgently right now.
Lulu. Take that serpent over to the compost. And don't roll on it for Goddess Sakes! That's a good girl.
Done with thinking for the nonce, I took a perilous route back to the laboratory that was fraught with danger and filled with adventure. I barely made it back to the laboratory unscathed or unnerved.

Comfortably saturated by the air conditioning, I sat down to work. First my eidetic memory plus beetle Dover Volume II confirmed the Plagiometriona clavata. Then, I searched around for some used beetle Dovers. Hark! There they are at Alibris. Both volumes, covers creased and soiled, page margins soiled, price tag still on Volume 1, $28, perfect. Those beetle Dovers are just like the borrowed beetle Dovers, almost. Perfect!

So now my very own beetle Dovers are headed this way. Praise the Goddess! See what a little high level thinking can accomplish?

Ray's Rainfall Update Plus Update

All righty then. I am fixing to fetch my delicious cinnamon bun. I got my delicious cinnamon bun last week too. But the rigors of airplane travel must have messed me up because I totally forgot to mention how delicious that particular cinnamon bun was last week. I also forgot to mention that due to airplane rides, I missed out on one delicious cinnamon bun.

My bosom companion, Crumby, missed both those airplane rides. We had to prime Crumby for those trips with ear and nerve tonic. So by the time we got Crumby on board for those trips, he was among the ambulatory yet semi-conscious. Plus he had to wear Earplanes. Those devices are comical. They are earplugs with handles. The little handles stick out fairly far, thus resembling tiny antennae.

Yet somehow, Crumby wound up in First Class for the outbound flight. Everybody else was stuck in coach, but Crumby was up front, ensconced in a big chair, drugged, with antennae sticking out of his ears. There's no telling how many libations Crumby guzzled down on the outbound. But there's also no way to determine that, since his nerve tonic bottle was also empty when we finally sat down.

Anyway, Crumby, up in First Class, with professionals waiting on him, spared us the aggravation of having to manage him on an airplane, for Goddess Sakes. Ha! I can just imagine that.
_____

Mr. Ovate, could you please close your window?

What?

Mr. Ovate, the other passengers are trying to sleep. Could you please close your window?

What? My companions back in coach have drugged me. Plus Rayetta has stuck these cruel devices in my ears for my own good. You shall have to shout in order to communicate with me. Nevertheless if you are offering to fetch me a Dolmen or two, I am agreeable to a few of those soothing libations. Where's the Comfort Station?
_____

Mercy!

The rain that indeed accumulated in the gauge indicates thus: 37.25" + 0.50" = 37.75" for Day 218, DY 1, Goddess All Righty!

Plus Update

Great Goddess plus three fifties of red headed mermaids in a goldfish bowl. Suddenly the rain smote us again. A veritable downpour has deluged the CB. Let's see if I can sum all this rain up. 37.75" + 2.40" = 40.15". Goddess All Righty!!!!

Friday, July 27, 2007

What has Gestapo got on the Kinglet?

Maybe they are jotto buddies. Yep. That must be it. Gestapo and the Kinglet had sexual relations at least once. Nada, short of jotto buddies, makes any sense according to the patterns I am sensing or studying.

Er. Hold it. Actually, Gestapo may have caught the Kinglet in an alternative to a jotto situation that could potentially embarrass even the Kinglet. But I am of the opinion that jotto buddies are somehow involved because the jotto lifestyle is such a threat to the Kinglet's way of life. Yepper. A secret jottoism has to be Gestapo's ticket.

Whoa! Consider this. Would the Kinglet's base abandon the Kinglet if they found out he committed jotto with Gestapo? Patterns indicate many of them might. Perhaps only those supporters with a secret jotto incident in their past would remain loyal. Or perhaps, after the Kinglet explained that he only did jotto once and didn't like it because he was drunk and stoned and down in the dumps when he jottoed, the base would find it in their kindly hearts to forgive the Kinglet.

Yikes! What if the Kinglet did a jotto while he was on the public payroll? Yikes! What if the Kinglet did a jotto or two at the White Palace? Would secret yet casual jottoism in the White Palace be grounds for impeachment? Easy that. Course not, but only, course not, if the jotto had no effect on the Kinglet's job performance.

I bet Gestapo has a soiled garment locked away in a safe spot. Even Chitlin does not know where that soiled garment is located. In fact, only Gestapo knows where that soiled garment is. Should the Kinglet show the slightest sign of weakness, lo and behold, Gestapo shall produce that soiled garment, probably on Fox News.

Yep. I bet that particular Fox News program should embarrass even the Kinglet, maybe. Yet the Kinglet is fairly thick-skinned. Plus the Kinglet may not watch TV. Plus the Kinglet has Tony Baloney around to explain stuff like,
Jotto is not necessarily actually jotto when all the evidence is in, and everyone has forgotten all about it years later.
Plus, all of US yearn to give our Kinglet the benefit of our doubts. Yep. The Kinglet certainly has enjoyed the benefit of our doubts to the max.

Ray's Rainfall Update

You win some, you lose some, some get rained out.

Versus

It's not whether you win or lose, it's how you play the game.

Yepper. Sports is a metaphor for life or vice versa, maybe. Uh!

Now let's see. The CB is approaching that stage of plant growth known to the environmental consultant as impenetrable thicket. An abundance of rain, you may see, may induce the vegetation to trend toward impenetrable thicket if no countervailing force of nature intervenes.

In these parts, I may be that countervailing force of nature. Yet lately, I have been rained out, and consequently, find myself coming up short in the win loss categories. Mercy! I must console myself with how I play the game.

Let's see. I must play fair and yet give in excess of 100%, effort. Mercy! How much in excess of 100% effort must I give? Taming that impenetrable thicket could take like maybe 120% effort. Do I possess that extra 20% beyond 100%? Mercy! What if I only come up with an extra 19% effort, and lose? What if I lose to an impenetrable thicket? Noooooooooooo! Everybody will spell, That Ray is such a titty baby. Or, That Ray is old and feeble. Or, That Ray is lazy. Or, That Ray is soooooooooooo stupid.

Yepper. Sport is a great metaphor for life. Yet the all important rainfall total is now, 37.14" + 0.11" = 37.25" on Day 217 of DY 1. Praise the Goddess!

Thursday, July 26, 2007

Rayetta's Dragonflies

If it aint one thing, it's two. Yes. While wandering around the CB keeping track of my butterflies I noticed lots of dragonflies, too. Why are all these dragonflies hanging around?, I wondered. Could it be all the tiny blood-sucking dipterans hovering in the east pasture have attracted them? I certainly hope it is the blood-sucking dipterans they are after. That bunch needs thinning out.

The blood-sucking dipterans notwithstanding, lots of dragonflies at the CB seems surpassingly odd to me. There is, typically, no permanent standing water in close proximity to the CB. Yet I noticed crowds of dragonflies about even during the previous several miserable Beelzebubberriffics when there was never any standing water, even ephemerally. There may be more dragongflies this year than in previous years though. However, I have no way of determining that, since DY 1 is the first year I have paid them much mind.

So far, I have managed to identify, photographically, eleven different species of dragonflies habitating at the CB. That seems a very large number of species considering the small size and upland character of the available habitat. I am very surprised, indeed. No. I am not merely surprised. I am shocked.

Is eleven species per acre of upland habitat in these parts, normal? Plus, not only are there at least eleven species, there are lots and lots of individuals around at every nonce. (Lots and lots figures to sum up somewhere between a baker's dozen and a tousand or maybe two tousand).

Ray's Rainfall Update

Do you spell Democratic Party or Democrat Party? How you spell reveals a lot about you. Woo! Woo!

Now that US has abandoned democracy, opting alternatively for an interesting Mammonite theocracy, what's a democrat to do? Well now, a democrat still has the Democratic Party as the only national institution potentially capable of accomplishing a sort of democratic agenda. Go for it, democrats. You won't be fooled again.

Yep. The CB Druids have decided to support the Democratic Party. Not with any money, but we may speak up for the Democrats occasionally and might ultimately vote for any of their presidential candidates except Mrs. Clinton. Alas, Mrs. Clinton is just too imperialistic.

Yet Dr. Paul would be our choice, perhaps over all the democrats. Dr. Paul is admirable. How could he possibly have retained his integrity, considering the company he keeps with the Republic Party? Is it spelled Republic Party or is it Republican Party?

Dr. Paul embodies the best of right-wing anarchism. How the heck he has survived, politically, into this era is anybody's guess. Yet every small businessman surviving among US should support Dr. Paul, because Dr. Paul best represents their class interests as a whole. However, Dr. Paul as president, may not sign off on many no-bid contracts that could eventually trickle down to the small businessmen, maybe. That is his un-doing. Mrs. Clinton though, as Queenlet, shall surely, just like the Kinglet, sign off on no-bid contracts if those no-bid contracts protect her vital interests which are the same vital interests as the Kinglet's vital interests.

But enough of all this musing, the all important rainfall update is, 35.65" + 1.49" = 37.14" on Day 216, DY 1. It's the Druid's year, Goddess All Righty!

Wednesday, July 25, 2007

Ray’s Thought for the Day - The Great Bicycle Race

Many, seeking relief from the tedium or crushing boredom of their daily lives, watch the Great Bicycle Race on TV. Me too. I am one of the many. Plus, Crumby and me have a red bicycle. Our bicycle has a bell, a basket and two flat tires. But now that we have the compressor up and running again, we may fix those tires. Then we shall pedal on down to the convenience store, maybe. The convenience store is where the basket comes in handy. Also, that basket can come in handy when a person, probably Crumby or me, espies a botanical element between here and the convenience store that needs to be relocated to the CB.

Having a bicycle, makes it easier to relate to the Great Bicycle Race. I can easily imagine myself coasting downhill through the Pyrenees at a fairly brisk pace. Then I can also imagine walking my bicycle up the hill. Mercy! Surely I shall find a nice shady spot on the top of this great hill. Let’s see. What is in the trusty basket? Hark! There’s my gallon water jug. But what’s that under the water jug? Do I espy some sort of baggy? Whatever is contained in that baggy?

Ha! I have made it all the way up this great hill, eventually. Now I shall relax and await the arrival of a snack or treat vendor.

Yepper. Riding a bicycle up a great hill is tedious, like a job. Do the Great Bicycle Race riders have inspirational speakers at the team meetings, assisting with the tedium? Picture that, Christ on a bicycle!
Yepper boys, despite leprosy, despite the terrible sagittal sectioning of my noggin, despite the sad loss of my entire family and all my friends to the homosexual lifestyle, despite my congenital absence of feet, I won the Great Bicycle Race. Thanks be to Jesus! And so can you! You just need to accept Jesus as you pedal along and Jesus shall whisk you up the uphill tedium in nothing flat.
Yet an alternative to Jesus is dope. Yea verily, the Great Bicycle Race riders need dope, all the dope they can handle. Whatever turns them on. Then, when each rider has plenty of dope, at last, we should be certain that the competition is fair with nobody cheating

Tuesday, July 24, 2007

Rayetta's Butterflies - A CB - BDS Limitation

I am trying to decide, based on the photographic evidence, what species of skipper this one is. These photographs are of the same skipper. But what skipper. Is this skipper an Apache skipper (Hesperia woodgatei), or a green skipper (Hesperia viridis), or some other skipper? Hmmm. Perhaps, I should review my other pictures that are similar to this skipper.



Crumby wants to pin this skipper out, then send it off to a museum. But Crumby does not want to take the trouble to drive over to the museum with the specimen, or mail the specimen off. So Crumby only wants to pin this skipper out, as an alternative to the BDS. And since I shall never allow Crumby to pin this skipper out, then proceed to store this skipper at the CB, pinning out is no alternative at all.

Er. Rayetta. There is yet another or third alternative.

Uh, huh. What might that be, Crumby?

We shall dub this skipper, the Zizotes skipper (Hesperia zizotianus). Then, throughout all the land, we shall become famous among a minuscule yet select crew as the inventors of a new Hesperia species, the Zizotes Skipper. That would be swell because nobody knows what a Zizotes, is.

We shall certainly not do that, Crumby. That is breaking so many rules. How the heck do you come up with such nonsense. For Goddess Sakes Crumby, I may have to schedule you for a refresher course on Druid Ethics at the Tabby Lab. Perhaps, in that venue, Dr. Swineherd shall knock some of the nonsense out of your noggin.

OK Rayetta. Let's all forget all about the interesting Zizotes Skipper, Praise the Goddess!!!!

Ray's Rainfall Update

Mercy! The quaint Village of Bee Caves is getting another new development. What a shithole! The another new development shall have the theme, Tuscany! Future residents of Tuscany shall have nice views of adjoining thematic developments plus a slice of wild Hill Country if the balcony points in the associated direction. Yep, naturally, Tuscany also abuts the Barton Creek component of the Balcones Canyonlands Preserve. Thus, the naturally unobservant residents may be able to espy the Achtung! signs on the preserve fences.

Soon, the most intrepid of the new, naturally unobservant residents shall surmise,
Why, oh why may I not ride my horsey off into that wilderness. Why not my ORV? Why, oh why, may I not, sport around over yonder? That wilderness is soooooooo, handy. That wilderness is a handy place to dump stuff too. I shall utlilize my privilege to gain access to that wilderness.
Mercy!

Yet the rain fell into the gauge so that 0.15" accumulated. So on Day 214 of DY 1, 35.65" + 0.15" = 35.80". Goddess All Righty!

Sunday, July 22, 2007

Ray's Thought for the Day - Rainfall Update

Last night, just a little bit of rain fell into the gauge. So 35.59" + 0.06" = 35.65" on this, Day 214, of DY 1. Good Goddess All Righty!

Now here's Mr. Red Ears, with commentary on the sad disposition of his tax dollars as translated into standard English by my sister.

Uh. Ray, I can't translate Red's comments into standard English for the venue. We might get busted.

Yeah but,

No yeah buts, Ray. Red needs a couple of Dolmens and a nap. We can not spell out this ovation.

Er. Red's spell is incendiary, all righty then.

All righty then.

Rayetta's Butterflies - Long-tailed Skipper (Chioides albofasciatus)

Just when I had given up on espying a long-tailed skipper again at the CB ever, this one turned up in a cooperative mood. There it was in the southwest pasture, supping upon the lantana. That southwest pasture has succeeded from about the most boring part of the CB to just about the most interesting. Probably, because the boys have not put much effort into improving it. Last year, for example, they mowed it too much in a vain attempt to get shut of the ragweed, and almost dispelled the capitate croton instead.

Anyway, I am very happy this one came back and let me take its picture. Fairly big and fairly tame, today. That's 2 - 2 on the Rayetta scales. Praise the Goddess!

Saturday, July 21, 2007

Crumby the Exorcist - Part III

OK Petey. Time to get down. Petey want some nice kitty chow. Yes he do. Yes he do. Yes he do. Yes he do. What a good mongoose Petey is. Ha! Why looky here! I, the Crumby Ovate, find myself all alone in an empty laboratory. The venue is all mine. So I shall spell a spell of Demons. Woooooooooooooo!

My personal trusty camera, the C 5060 WZ went totally crazy the day we got back from Hawaii. Here’s what I think may have happened. The C 5060 was crammed into a bag for the return trip with a bunch of other gear. It’s on switch must have gotten switched to the on position from getting mashed on or from rubbing elbows or assholes with some of the other gear. Then, some of the other buttons must have also activated. So for a while, the C 5060 happily performed various camera functions inside the bag until its battery was exhausted.

I was in a hurry. I needed to take some pictures pronto so I dug my trusty C 5060 out of the trip camera bag and headed out to the east pasture. But I didn’t get far into that terrible wilderness. The C 5060 would not power up. My trusty camera is broke. My trusty camera is broke. My trusty camera is broke. My trusty camera is broke. What did I do to deserve this? First the new camera, twice. Now my trusty camera. Boo-hoo-hoo!

Change the battery, Rayetta advised.

But Rayetta, I just changed batteries before we left Hawaii.

Change it anyway Crumby. It probably turned itself on in the bag.

So that’s what I did, change the battery.

Yippee! Thanks Rayetta. It’s powering on and seems to be working fine. Hold it! No it’s not. It’s going crazy. It’s doing everything all at once. Mercy! It’s out of control Rayetta. None of the buttons are doing what they’re supposed to. It’s taking pictures. It’s taking flash pictures. It won’t let me delete anything. It’s playing a little song. Help! It’s broke, it’s broke, it’s broke, it’s broke. What did I do to deserve this!

The C 5060, while it was going crazy, also recorded the previous paragraph and played the contents back in movie mode, repeatedly.

Jeez Louise, it’s recording me Rayetta. It’s playing the recording back, over and over. Mercy! This may kill me Rayetta. I may have a nervous breakdown.

Turn it on and off a few times, Crumby. Then let it rest, Rayetta advised. Perhaps it’s confused.

It won’t turn off Rayetta. It’s possessed. A demon is at the controls of my trusty camera.

I followed Rayetta’s advice. Eventually my trusty C 5060 returned to its senses. You see, a demon had not actually gotten into my camera. Rather, there was some other explanation for its behavior, more mysterious than demonic possession.

The weak minded may get the impression from this venue that Old School Druids believe Demons are real, supernatural type organisms. Nothing could be further round about the Ellipse. However, we do hold the opinion that, there are too many humans and many, maybe most of those humans, are no good. Evidence reinforcing this opinion is, humans invented the demonic realm to account for human behavior, thus shucking accountability. The most cogent political expression of the demonic realm among US is the Republican Party. The religious expression is the Mammon worship of the Christian right. The realm of demons, demonic imps and other assorted devils is also a popular, anecdotal notion.

No wonder then that I, the Crumby Ovate, should undertake a perilous journey. Yes. There I went off to visit the conked out Kinglet, the Crown of the State, the Savior of the Mammonites. Yes. There I was laboring mightily over the Kinglet’s upturned postern. Out Smirk, out Shirk, I cried. Get on out of the Kinglet, ye twain demons. How those demons hissed as the Holy Water from my trusty Disciples Squirt Pistol afflicted them. Mercy! Mercy!, they whined.

For a time it seemed that the Kinglet relaxed and was at peace, his demons exorcised. Alas and alack though, I fear that as soon as I turned my back, those twain demons re-infested the Kinglet. Alas and alack, those twain demons, were strong with the Kinglet, as if they had always been there, with the Kinglet, a life time symbiotic relationship. But time will tell if my ministrations affected any good. We shall see, anon

Ray's Rainfall Update

Hold it! What's all this? What the heck are y'all up to?

Move over Ray. I need to interview Crumby.

Huh?

Yes Ray. Crumby has exorcised the Kinglet and I need to interview him on the venue.

Huh?

Set up over there Lomo. Crumby, you sit in front of the microscope. Where's your squirt pistol? You need to show that squirt pistol to the home audience. Move over Ray. Hurry up. Goodness gracious sakes alive! Is everyone all set? Hold up the squirt gun, Crumby. Wave it around. Yepper. Roll it, Lomo. All righty, this is Ms. Hope Remains with an exclusive Druid News Service interview with none other than the CBs penultimate Ovate, Crumby. Crumby has only recently exorcised some of the demons that have long infested our precious Kinglet. Crumby, explain to the home audience how you single-handedly exorcised the Kinglet.

Yes, thank you, Ms. Remains. Long have I, the Crumby Ovate struggled with the generally unseen world of the various demons. Even as a toddler the demons....

Goodness gracious, Crumby. Skip that part. Get to how you exorcised the Kinglet.

There I was, unjustly booted out of preacher school, packing my few miserable belongings into an ancient, mildewed, battered suitcase, when I chanced to espy my Disciples Holy Water Squirt Pistol....

For goodness sakes Crumby, skip that part. How did you manage to exorcise the Kinglet?

Long have I speculated, Are any of these artifacts left over from my wicked Christian past, any count or might come in handy....

Crumby! For goodness sake, get to the point. How the heck did you exorcise the Kinglet?

There I was, smartly attired in a rented candy striper outfit, my trusty Disciples Holy Water Squirt Pistol cleverly concealed in my panty liner. It's a good thing I put on that panty liner too, because that particular Disciples Holy Water Squirt Pistol leaks....

Crumby! Please tell the home audience how you exorcised the Kinglet. Pretty please.

Easy that, Ms. Remains. Where's Petey? Here he is. Look home audience. This is my new pet mongoose, Petey. Petey, found himself orphaned in Hawaii, a teenage mongoose cruelly suffering the insidious taunts of the Mynah birds....

Darn it! Cut Lomo! Crumby, you are not cooperating. I'm gonna spell Rayetta. Ray-et-ta! Crumby is not cooperating on my DNS interview! You better do something before he ruins my interview. Goodness! Ray, take over. Come on Crumby. we're going to Rayetta's office.

But Hope, the home audience may want to know all about Petey and the clever diversions of which the descendants of Riki Tiki Tavi are easily capable....

No they won't Crumby. They want to know how you exorcised the Kinglet. So we are headed to Rayetta's office to work up a script. Goodness gracious! I should have thought of that in the first place. Gracious sakes alive!
_____

So. Since the last time I updated the record of rain water in the gauge, the total has burgeoned on up. The new whopping total is 33.07" + 2.52" = 35.59". Praise the Goddess!

Friday, July 20, 2007

Rayetta's Butterflies - The Goatweed Leafwing (Anaea andria)


Yesterday a goatweed leafwing finally posed with its wings open for me. This goatweed leafwing is not new to the CB-BDS, but this is the first picture of an open winged one in this venue. It is also the first picture in which the goatweed leafwing is not sitting on a banana.

Goatweed, I was surprised to learn, is one of the common names applied to a croton. Which croton? Beats me. There are a very great many crotons and whichever one is goatweed, I know not. We have only three crotons at the CB, Croton capitatus, Croton fruticulosus and Croton monanthogynous. Perhaps goatweed is one of those. If so, perhaps the goatweed leafwings will take up residence at the CB, happily ovapositing on the CB crotons. So far though, I have not seen them do that, lay eggs on a CB croton. But they are always front and certain for a banana. Our goatweed leafwings are fairly large and nervous. That’s -1 - 3 on the Rayetta scales. Unless they happen to be on a banana, in which event, they are inert.

Druid News Service, Newsy News Flash. Ms. Hope Remains, Ace Reporter, Reporting - The Exorcist

Goodness gracious, home viewers! Here I am in the general vicinity of Camp David. My goodness, the Kinglet is knocked out cold as a cucumber as the doctors try to find out what’s up his...... Oops! Goodness. Yes, the Kinglet is undergoing a thorough investigation of his colon. But the important part is, he’s temporarily unconscious.

Gracious sakes alive! Look who’s here. Land sakes alive! It’s my boyfriend’s bosom companion, Crumby Ovate. What’s happening Crumby? What are you doing here in the general vicinity of Camp David.

Easy that Ms. Remains. I am arrived here in my capacity as a defrocked divinity student of a certain Protestant sect that happens to perform exorcisms. Yepper. In that former capacity I learned how to cast out demons, maybe. Yet now, after a terrible journey fraught with grave peril, I have arrived in these parts. I am here to offer the service, exorcism, to our precious Kinglet while he is out cold. Yea verily, if I can get into Camp David, those twain demons, Shirk and Smirk, inhabiting our precious Kinglet shall learn a thing or two from the Crumby Ovate, exorcist.

Yikes! My word! Yikes! Crumby do you really think the many guards will let you near the Kinglet?

No, Hope. I shall have to use my Druidic Training. Then, disguised as maybe an orderly or candy striper, I shall deliver the Kinglet from those demons, once and for all.

Yikes! All righty then, Crumby. Are you heading off to exorcise the Kinglet at this very nonce?

Er. Actually, I am going to have a little dinner first. Then, once I get a good dinner under my belt, and maybe have a little nap, then I’ll put on my disguise and tackle those demons.

Goodness sakes alive and merciful heavens! Well Crumby, let me and the home viewers know when you have cast out the Kinglet’s demons. That shall be newsy, news, fer sure. This is Ms. Hope Remains, Ace Reporter, signing off. Watch out for the Wickerman!

Ray's Thought for the Day - The Ecologically Inert

Whut's it good fer?, the ignorant squeak. Well, consider the lowly lemon horse mint, Monarda citriodora. It's common as dirt, almost, reputedly chases off fleas, and provides a foraging substrate for tons of insects. Now consider a cultivar Hibiscus that happens to habitate at the CB. It does not repel fleas, reputedly, and provides a substrate por nada. Oh. Once a dragonfly landed on one of its dead branches. So that Hibiscus is relatively, ecologically inert compared to the lively lemon horse mint. (I suspect that many of the plants on the big island are relatively, ecologically inert, especially the hoards of cultivars).

On the other hand, the whole time we were on the big island, we espied not a single law enforcement officer except at the airport. That's right, not one police person of any sort, anywhere. How about that! Yet generally, all the motorists observed the traffic laws. Ha! Compare and contrast to the Republic of Tejas. Yep. It sure was nice to visit the good old US for awhile.

Now here’s Crumby, my bosom companion with commentary on the birds easily espied on the big island, Hawaii.

All righty then. Thank ye. But first Ray, before I get to the birds, a Potential Safety Topic -Environmental Hazard - Multitasking. In these latter days of civilization as we know it, the most advanced humans need to do several activities simultaneously in order to make progress. This, do all, comes under the general moniker, multitasking. Yet, despite all that, tobacco products and snorkeling do not multitask. So remember to get rid of yer snuff or Red Man before ye snorkle off into the blue Pacific. Ye won’t be sorry.

Hold it. I need to mention another Potential Safety Topic - Environmental Hazard - No Map. Never go anywhere off yer property without a good map. The University of Hawaii Press, for example, puts out an excellent map of the big island. So get a good map before you leave yer property or rental space.

There I was snorkeling along, free of the Demon Snuff, when all of a sudden, up ahead, appeared a turtle of monstrous size. Whoa! Are these turtles dangerous? Will this turtle pee on me if I annoy it. Noper. Not dangerous and so far as I am aware it did not pee on me. But I may have peed on it. Yep. I may have peed in the same ocean I was snorkeling along in.

Back on terra firma, the big island features a great many birds gathered from all over the world. Some of these are ubiquitous and easy to espy, like the Mynah bird. Only the naturally unobservant could miss espying a Mynah bird on the big island. Positioned upon my little garden area porch surrounded by a flower bed, then a lawn, then a jogging track, then a golf course, I espied many Mynah birds. Obviously, Mynah birds are accomplished generalists, exploiting whatever, amicably.

What roils this Mynah bird paradise? Apparently, the kitty cat and the mongoose. Mynah birds keep close track of these mammals and fuss at them when fussing is required, like when a mongoose dashes out of the Pennisetum, that some spell Peniseatum, dominated rough onto the green. That mongoose gets a good fussing.

Sharing the golf course environs with the Mynah birds and the naturally unobservant, overfed humans busily burning off energy on the golf course and the jogging track are lots of littler birds. Easy to espy ones are Northern Cardinal, Yellow-billed Cardinal, House Finch, House Sparrow, Nutmeg Mannikin, Japanese White-Eye, Spotted Dove, Zebra dove, Rock Dove, Gray Frankolin, Java Sparrow, African Silverbill, and Saffron Finch. These birds are possibly even easier to espy on their continents of origin. Yet there they all are, assembled together, watching out for the mongooses and kitty cats.

This zebra dove is thinking about eating some Chamaesyce seeds if any are to be found. This flower bed has lots of Euphorbs. The doves. consequently, patrol it regularly.



On the west end of the big island, apparently, only the irrigated prosper. Think, Big Lake, if you have ever been to Big Lake, in the Republic of Tejas. The grass is burnt yellow or just burnt and the tree is a Prosopsis, plus Acacias taking advantage of the relatively high moisture adjacent to the paved roads. Yet even here many birds must thrive. However, many are not easy to espy from the busy roadways. Plus, those birds with any sense are hanging around the irrigated spots, the baby boomer playgrounds and hotels.

A little higher up though, 3000' - 4000', the grasslands get more moisture. There are big trees in lots of spots, like the goofy Ironwood and Eucalyptus spp. Also, there is less busy driving and lots of places to pull over. There are even dirt roads where you don’t have to pull over. Get ready for the gallinaceous. Whoa! Stop the car. There’s a dang turkey. The easily espied are Short-Eared Owl, Hawaiian Hawk, Black Francolin, Erckel’s Frankolin, California Quail, Wild Turkey, Ring-Necked Pheasant, Chestnut-Bellied Sandgrouse and Sky Lark.

Charging on up in elevation, the west slope of Mauna Kea is supposed to be where the Palila is easy to espy. Er. But only in the spring. One Palila was easy to espy, maybe, maybe. But at the time of espy-ization, somebody had forgot to know what a Palila looks like. However, Amakihis were very easy to espy. Lots of Amikihis, House Finch, Northern Cardinal and Japanese White-Eye. Then too, the Elepaio was eventually espied, but not easily.

The west slope of Mauna Kea is spelled forest. But it is actually more shrubby. Where are the bcvs? Yep, the Mamane and the Naio are more shrubs than trees in those parts.

Detouring back down the mountain and heading down, down to the north coast, there is plenty of moisture. In those parts are fields full of guinea grass (Panicum maximum). The guinea grass gets so tall that the cows are hard to espy. Often, only their ears may be espied. In some places, where the cows have munched off the guinea grass, or there is bermudagrass instead, the Cattle Egret is easy to espy.

Mixed in with the guinea grass are tree farms and confusing lowland forests in the gullies. These lowland gully forests are very confusing. The bird espied, but not easily, in the lowland confusing gully forest is the Melodious Laughing Thrush, sometimes referenced as the Merciless Laughing Thrush.

Out in the blue Pacific in these parts, where there is lava sticking up out of the ocean, at Laupahoehoe Point County Park, the Black Noddy is fairly easy to espy. They sit on the lava rocks when they are not dashing over the waves.

Roaring along throught the middle of the big island, from west to east, between the two big mountains, Mauna Loa and Mauna Kea, the moisture perks up to the east and so do the plants. But first, there is a goofy stock tank where Nenes are easy to espy. Looks like they could use some rain.

Off east from the Nene stock tank, is the Ohi’a plus Koa dominated upland woodlands and forests. These are generally broken up by the various lava flows. The different ones that survived the lava flows are woodlots, known locally as kipukas. Easily espied birds in these various kipukas are Apapane, Amakihi and I’iwi, not so easily. There are also plenty of House Finches. Most of these House Finches are yellow, not red. Then there are plenty of Kalij Pheasants. Why these are common, running around in the understory, beats me. They are actually underfoot. Yikes! They look like too much like chicken and probably taste like chicken, to be so common.

Uh oh. Looks like Hawaii DOT is going to 4-lane through these parts. Mercy! Lava makes good road base.

Here we go. Down into the goofy gully forests again with intimate human habitat all adjacent plus crops and tree forests on the east coast. Then heading back west up to Kilhauea Crater, we are shocked to espy a White-Tailed Tropic Bird flying over a kipuka, locally known as the Bird Park. That prepared us though for even more White-Tailed Tropic Birds in the crater itself . Shocking! What the heck do they eat? At this kipuka, Bird Park, we espied maybe a hundred Apapanes. We also espied Yellow-Fronted Canarys, maybe. However, we were not anticipating those canaries, again, because somebody forgot to know what they look like.

All righty then. That’s about it for all the easy to espy birds of the big island. By the way, Mynah birds, Japanese White-Eyes and House Finches are easy to espy, everywhere.

Now, if any CB Druids visit the beautiful big island a second time, or if we move the CB to those parts, we shall know what to look out for birdwise, and espy some of those that were not easy to espy this time. Praise the Goddess!

Thursday, July 19, 2007

Rayetta’s Hawaiian Butterflies Plus a CB-BDS Update

The butterflies are sparse. We have more species at the CB every day than occur on the big island, Hawaii, all the time, only 14 species. Not only that, I could not round up many of the butterflies that do occur in Hawaii. The only ones I espied were Cabbage White, Long-tailed Blue, Monarch, Kamehameha maybe, Xuthus Swallowtail and Fiery Skipper. That’s not even half of them. Phooey! And the only ones I got pictures of are fiery skipper, monarch and long-tailed blue. Phooey!

How long does a girl have to hang around a banana tree before she espies a banana skipper? That’s what I want to know. Hmmm. I had other stuff to do. Maybe that’s why I didn’t see all the butterflies.

But now, home at the CB, I have already espied a butterfly new to the CB-BDS. This is a tiny, tame one. 3 - 1 on the Rayetta Scales, dusky-blue groundstreak (Calycopis isobeon). How about that!

Ray's Rainfall Update

Post Hawaii, 1.04" have accumulated in the gauge. So 1.04" + 32.03" = 33.07", Day 211 of DY 1.
_____

Coincidental High Precipitiation Notes

Only a very few bagworms have put in an appearance in the cultivar pecans at the CB this year.

The pecan limbs are so laden with pecans that the weight of those pecans is busting off limbs. Those particular cultivar pecans are self-pruning.

The CB looks like Hawaii, superficially. That is, most of the herbs are way bigger and taller than they would be during a regular, precipitationless Beelzebubberiffic. The switchgrass and gammagrass are taking over, resembling the guineagrass in Hawaii.
_____

Did you know that a Turk's cap (Malvaviscus penduliflorus) occurs in Hawaii. However, in Hawaii, the Turk's cap is woody and tall. It is a big shrub. Plus the flowers are twice as big. Those flowers nod over. I was shocked! That's what plenty of rain and no freezes accomplishes.

Uh! We were all pretty surprised when Red took us to Hawaii. That's because the CB Druidry has not put in much time patterning over Hawaii. So we debarked from the airplane, ignorant. We are still fairly ignorant.

All the human and proto human inhabitants we encountered on the big island were very nice and polite, reserved plus friendly. That was a shock! One forgets, habitating in these parts, that civil society persists in diverse other parts.

Tuesday, July 17, 2007

Ray's Thought for the Day - Aloha Pen-da-hos Plus Rainfall Update

Yep. We are back from the beautiful island of Hawaii, located somewhere out in the Pacific Ocean. Flying over the Pacific Ocean in a large airplane, one can see another island, Maui, to the northwest of Hawaii. That's the island I saw first out the window of the airplane. But then the airplane landed on Hawaii so that is where we got out.

When we got back, today, I found approximately 0.25" in the gauge plus a dead bee. So the new total is, 31.78" + 0.25" = 32.03. Plus, the rain is falling at this very nonce, a welcome from the Blessed Goddess. Praise the Goddess!

The island of Hawaii is very interesting. For one thing, a weasel-like mammal, the well-known mongoose, is ubiquitous. The mongoose, Riki-Tiki-Tavi, is the most famous of all the mongooses and is perhaps ancestral to some of the many mongooses I observed inhabiting Hawaii, including several road kill mongooses.

Here we see a kitty cat feeding station behind the mall on Pahalani Road in Kona. Apparently some kindly soul feeds and waters all the stray kitty cats in those parts. But hark! The mongooses like kitty chow too. Plus, those mongooses are scrappy enough to mix it up with kittys. Mercy!



The miserable mongooses get the food dish to themselves. Uh. These pictures in no way depict the swarms of kittys and mongooses habitating behind this Kona shopping center.

Sunday, July 08, 2007

Ray's Thought for the Day - Ukelele Lady

In theory, the greatest song ever is Ukelele Lady. Naturally, I sing a bowdlerized version of that particular song. However, most of my version is much like the original. That's how great a song Ukelele Lady is. What about the line, All the beaches are filled with peaches, who bring their ukes along? Ukes along, huh-huh.

Aloha, pen-da-hos.

Saturday, July 07, 2007

Rayetta's Butterflies - New Records for the CB-BDS

Yep. The CB-BDS is increasing arithmetically as new species are added. Over the last couple of days, I have espied several new ones that yet defy the documentation system. But not this one. The annual sun flower (Helianthus annua) is a major draw for the big butterflies. No less, this eastern tiger swallowtail(Papilio glaucus). Big and fairly tame. That's 1 - 1- on the Rayetta scales.

Hmmm. I wonder if I have reversed the values of the Rayetta scales again?

Baby brother Ray, try clicking on the spell Title:.

Ray's Rainfall Update

Where's the cursor for the title line? This dang venue is annoying. The cursor for the title line appears only intermittently these days? Aggravating! It's a Bill Gates moment.

Meantime, yesterday, out in the east pasture: Good Goddess! Rayetta! Good Goddess! Rayetta! Good Goddess! Rayetta!

What?

I have espied my next iteration. Come take its picture Rayetta. Please!

Hmmm. OK. What have you espied Crumby?

Check out the beetle on the Monarda citriodora. You need to get close Rayetta. This particular beetle is diminutive.

Goodness! I see it Crumby. It's adorable.

Yepper. Take its picture, Rayetta. Take its picture!

Darn it Crumby. This beetle won't hold still. Plus the winds blowing . Hold your horses.

Take its picture, Rayetta. Hurry up and take its picture!!!!

Whirrr. Whirr. Whirr. Beep. Click. Whirrr. Whirr. Click. Whirrr. Whirr. Whirr. Whirr-whirr. Beep. Click. Whirrr. Whirr. Beep. Darn it. Click. Whirrr. Whirr. Whirr. Beep. Click. Whirrr. Whirr. Beep. Click. Whirrr. Whirr. Whirr. Beep. Click. Whirrr. Whirr. Whirr. Whirrrrr. Beep. Click. Hmmm. Maybe I got a decent shot. But that's it. I have frazzled myself. Let's go to the lab and espy what we have got.

All righty then.

The twain of them, both Crumby and Rayetta, head off on the perilous journey to the lab. Once ensconced in the lab:

Noper, noper, noper, noper, noper, that one Rayetta. That one's good enough, fer me. Please Goddess! Consider what a good boy I am and make me look just like that in my next iteration. Look at that! Those antennae are moose-like. And check out the warning patterns, especially on the posterior. Perfect!!!!

Yet also the rain fell into the gauge that same day. 31.42" + 0.36" = 31.78" on Day 199, DY 1. Praise the Goddess!

Friday, July 06, 2007

Ray's Rainfall Update

Every little bit helps the CB and hurts the water purveyors. Owch!, you water purveyors. So, 31.03" + 0.39" = 31.42" on Day 198, DY 1. Also, the clouds mean less electron vibration. So the electric bill is less. Owch!, you electron vibration purveyors.

Yet, at the Chamber of Commerce.

Those consumers aint consumin'. We need to raise the rates. Or we need more consumers. Otherwise the whole she-bang shall go belly-up in no time. Then we shall all die of thirst in the dark. Plus, it shall be hot in the dark. Save us Jesus!

Fret not. Your prayers are answered. It is I, the Demon Mammon, I mean Jesus. Er. Yes. It's me, Jesus. Hearken my sons, by all means, raise the rates on the littler consumers, yet lower the rates on the bigger consumers so that the bigger consumers shall increase and make more littler consumers.

Thursday, July 05, 2007

Ray's Rainfall Update

Today is Day 197, DY 1. On this day the CB passed the important 30" rainfall total for the current year. The actual rainfall sum to date is, 29.62" + 1.41" = 31.03".
All this rainfall, plus the amazing cloud cover has made this Beelzebubberriffic tolerable for a change. Many prosper. The vines are laden with grapes. The annual sunflowers are seven feet tall. Yet, withall, the cloud cover frets my bosom companion, Crumby, nocturnally. There is no Telescope Tomfoolery in these parts.

That's right Ray. Sadly, there is no Telescope Tomfoolery. Were it not for a rigorous maintenance schedule, the telescopery gear would have collected plenty of dust. Praise the Goddess, Lleu Llaw, employing his lion-like steady hand, keeps all that gear dusted. No Telescope Tomfoolery, however, frees me up for other interesting activities, self-analysis, for example. Lately, I have been reflecting on how self-analysis may influence ovation. What ugly truths have I discovered via self-analysis, Ray, that may corrupt otherwise accurate ovations?

Beats me, Crumby. Dingleberries, maybe, or a great hemorrhoid.

You have, willfully perhaps, misconstrued me, bosom companion. What we are considering here is self-analysis of the inner noggin regions, that capacious yet mysterious space between one's ears, as opposed to the merely mundane anal region.

Hold it Crumby. You are bamboozling yourself needlessly. Ugly truths discovered via self-analysis can not corrupt accurate ovations. If an ovation turns out, it's the same difference. However, if you think about yourself all the time, instead of memorizing patterns, your ovations shall then suffer. Your ovations shall not be worth spit. Yep. The proof is in the puffin'.

Yep Ray. And PA has the flavor.

Correct Crumby. The flavor most favored in the USA.

Where's Prince Albert, Ray?

He's in the can. Huh-huh.

Ray's Thought for the Day - What is Wrong Here?

Rayetta's new camera is back. Rayetta is testing the new camera, even on vertebrates, to detect if the new camera is fixed.

Wednesday, July 04, 2007

Dang it. I forgot to publish the CB Draft Plant List

See below. I am adding more as I remember them. The additions are bolded.

Druid Revolution

Will the Druid Revolution turn out better than the One Big Union? Maybe, maybe not. Fellow workers, the Little Red Songbook is imitated, below.

Ah! Those days of yore. Back during those days of yore the great Kings of those times might dispense largesse to the people right before an important holiday. Yepper. A great King, like Pwyll, Prince of Dyfed, for example, might hold a parade. Then, parading through the city, King Pwyll tossed spare change or biscuits to his subjects. Once, King Pwyll even gave piglets away to the head of every household in the kingdom. Those were happy times.

Which would you rather have, spare change, biscuit and piglet, or a loose Scooter? Hark! Many cry out, I am plenty happy with a loose Scooter. Thank you Kinglet for my loose Scooter. My loose Scooter fits in nicely with my Way of Life or Lifestyle.

Yet many also cry out, where’s my piglet? Where’s my sow’s ear? Where’s my cloven hoof? Where’s my piglet’s poke, bladder, chitlins? Where is the just piglet I so crave?

Those of US disappointed with a loose Scooter take heart. Take up the glad cry, the Putin got a Sedgeway! What the dang heck is a Sedgeway, anyway? Is Sedgeway some kind of loose Scooter too? Or is it a path or avenue, with mythical sedges growing thereon, like in Sedgeway the new development, or Sedgeway the street in the new development.

Hark! The Ovates Ovate! Render US! Render US, Great Goddess!!!!

The Druid Revolution Song!!!!

Oink!

When the Druid Revolution Comes Snortin’ and Rootin’ along, along
The Kinglets and their cronies and all the other phonies, won’t have long, not long
Root out, root out you wayward swine, those lies, those lies, that swill your minds
Eat less, eat less, you’ll still be fine, give, something, back to the Goddess.

Oink!

When the Druid Revolution Comes Snortin’ and Rootin’ along, along.
All the liars and gluttons shall be eaten and forgotten before too long.
Lift up, lift up your porky snouts, snort, snort, just snort, and let it out.
Glad snorts, are what life’s all about, give up, a snort for the Goddess.

Oink!

When the Druid Revolution Comes Snortin’ and Rootin’ along, along.
All the oinkin’ in the parlor shall be heard by the Goddess as one sweet song.
Goodness! My pigs are swell today, Goodness! Not one has gone astray.
Goodness! Declare a holiday. Here’s, some,acorns for everyone.

Oink!

Rayetta's Butterflies - Behavioral Notes

When a butterfly new to the Cow Barn - Butterfly Documentation System (CB-BDS) is detected, that butterfly is almost always nervous and flighty. Yet, if that butterfly sticks around, chances are it will calm down eventually. Two phenomena may be occurring simultaneously, calming the new butterfly down so that I may take its picture. First, the new butterfly perceives how nice the habitat is, including me, the Lovely Druidess Rayetta. Second, more of that same kind of butterfly arrive at the CB, making the CB seem like, the place to be. So all that kind of new butterfly are calm and happy as opposed to nervous and flighty. Examples illustrating this pattern are, the twain emperors, question mark, silvery checkerspot, and this one, the silver-spotted skipper.

This one, the silvery-spotted skipper, has been around in the singular for a couple of weeks. At this nonce though, there are at least three of them at the CB. Now they have perceived what a nice habitat they are enjoying, including me, the LDR, plus they have established a civil society of silver-spotted skippers. Calm, happy butterflies enjoying a civil society with rules, like to have their pictures taken. So even with the slower camera minus those annoying focal length extenders, or whatever Crumby spells them, I may easily take their pictures.

However. Consider the goatweed leafwings. While the goatweed leafwings are certainly calm and happy, enjoying the habitat. They are entirely uncooperative, pictorially. They are aggravating.

So there I am at the banana feeder. A goatweed leafwing is socked tick-like on the banana. Ever closer the LDR closes in. At last the slower camera lens touches the goatweed leafwing. What's the matter with this butterfly? Is it stuck to the banana? I, the LDR, wish to take a picture of your colorful upper wings. Spread out! So I poke this inert goatweed leafwing with my finger. Open up, the LDR commands it. The goatweed leafwing shifts position, slightly. So I poke it again. Same response. So I poke it again. Off the goatweed leafwing goes, the orange flash to quick for the slower camera.

Yikes! There's a disturbance at this very nonce emanating from the dusty hallways. Stop that disturbance! I, the LDR, command you to stop that at once. You disturbers, present yourselves to me immediately! Well, hello Lometa. Don't you look darling. Did you get that pretty little frock in Maine?

Tee-he-he. Yepper. Lomo got it fer me. Lookee here Rayetta, a package has come fer ye. Crumby tried to take it away frum me. But I helt on fer dear life. Whut is it Rayetta? It don't rattle when I shake it.

Ray's Thought for the Day - The Return of the Sun God Trainee

Whoa! What happened to the laboratory?

Crumby picked it up yesterday, mostly against his will.

Good deal, Rayetta. So my bosom companion, Crumby, kept up as temporary boss of the venue.

No Ray, he didn't. Crumby slacked off. Crumby only kept up some of the venue. For example, the all important rain gauge may be fixing to overflow.

Mercy!

That's right Ray. You have some catching up to do.

Er. All righty then Rayetta. I shall have the venue back to normal pretty soon. However, my worn and haggard condition may slow me down, slightly. Here now. This ought to hold the venue for this nonce of a secular holiday. Red spells, the US epitaph, For Sale.

Wiping Mittens

All righty then. My bosom companion, Ray, plus the rest of them have returned to the CB. My short career as venue boss is at an end, assuming Ray, worn and haggard from terrible adventures in foreign parts, is recovered from the many rigors he doubtless endured, and shall immediately re-assume this important position. Yet I ovate that this subtopic shall terminate my term as venue boss.

Since I may not get to be venue boss for more than a few more minutes, I need to get some more important information out, expeditiously. So here goes.

Yesterday I had to pick up the laboratory, mostly against my will. Pick up is Rayetta’s spell for cleaning chores. When Rayetta spells, pick up, she does not mean just pick up all the stuff. She also means, wipe up all the horizontal surfaces where the stuff was formerly reclining before it got picked up.

All that is why I always save my worn out socks. My socks are worn out when they encourage blisters or allow a toe completely outside and loose in the shoe. But those socks are still good. They are good in the capacity, wiping mittens. Yep. Once all the stuff is picked up and the horizontal surfaces are free of debris, I head out to the old sock and undergarment sack. Then I may rummage around for a while. Soon though, I always resurrect a pair of old socks. This is a truth. There are always old socks in that magical sack.

Once I have my old socks on mitten like, I wet them both slightly under the faucet. Then those socks become handy dust mops or wiping mittens on all the horizontal surfaces. When they get too muddy on one side, I just turn them around. When they get too muddy on that side, I rinse them off under the faucet. After a good rinsing, they are ready to go again. When I’m all done, I throw those socks away. So there you have it, old socks transformed into handy dust mops or wiping mittens.

Hark! For those especially greasy, grimy surfaces, mix up vinegar with the water in a bucket. Then dip yer mittens in those.

Tuesday, July 03, 2007

Rayetta’s Grape Leaf Folders

And another thing Crumby. Soon as I’m finished, you need to pick up. This laboratory is a mess.

All righty then.

Sigh. OK. These pictures match up with Dr. Holland’s Dover moth descriptions (Desmeria funeralis). However, I have not yet detected any of the associated moths, only caterpillars. These caterpillars possess translucent green bodies, orange heads and black marking on the second and third segments. The eyes are also, black. These caterpillars are small, yet active and industrious. If one pulls the leaf wherein a caterpillar resides, apart, that caterpillar shall immediately set to work, repairing the damage.

In common with all the other moth home building caterpillars with which I am personally familiar, these caterpillars have not invented comfort stations as areas distinct from the general housing facility. That’s why poop is all over the house.

Crumby’s Rainfall Update

To update or not to update, that is the question. Whether tis nobler to rush out to the gauge at this very nonce and thereby discover a paltry total, or to cower here in the comfortable laboratory, until yet more rain accumulates. Which is nobler?

Many moons ago I happened to have a checking account at a bank in Laredo. In order to set up a checking account at a bank in Laredo, or anywhere else, maybe, one must present oneself at the bank, sit awhile in the lobby, and then after awhile, one is directed to a desk. The particular desk I got directed to featured a name plate on it. Part of the name plate spelled, Ofelia, which was the familiar name of the pretty yet efficient young lady escorting me to the desk in the first place.

In those days I may have been clinging to one or another of the wicked Christian tendencies I learned as a child, or, at the least, I was confused by those tendencies and they affected my social skills.

Hold it! You must be the famous Ophelia. How’s Hamlet doing?

Que? Uh! What?

Hamlet. Aren’t you Hamlet’s girlfriend?

What are you talking about?

You know, Hamlet, the Prince of Denmark.

Well, Ofelia was not only pretty, but efficient; her efficiency indicated by an arm waving signal that produced the arrival of a large nicely dressed gentleman.

Do we have a problem here?

I need to set up a checking account, but I may be having some trouble communicating. I may be slightly disoriented.

Ha! Eventually, I got my checking account all set up, despite Hamlet, the Prince of Denmark.

Rayetta! Are you fixing to do the grape leaf folders?

Yes Crumby. However, I am also fixing to set it up under its own subtopic. So skat.

All righty then.

Monday, July 02, 2007

And Streams

Do you like spinach? I do. In fact, I really like spinach, a lot. But that particular Chenopode, spinach, needs proper preparation. First off, the sand needs to be washed off. You need to wash your spinach four times to make sure it won't be gritty. Then, chop some garlic. Toss that chopped garlic into a big pot, then, Hey Rayetta, I am cluing the world in on how to cook up spinach. Spinach is about the best of the green leafy vegetables, chock full of vitamins plus minerals not counting the sand. Did you know Rayetta that besides the regular spinach there are wild spinaches that are also tasty and nutritious, mmmpph-mmpph-mmpph.

Now listen carefully Crumby. I have palmed your cheeks for a reason. The reason is, boss of the venue, does not imply obligatory incessant blather. No. Instead, you are also supposed to check periodically for incoming spells. That way, Crumby, those of us apart from the CB may have their spells detected at the CB by those of us with some interest in those communications. So Crumby, I am fixing to release your jaws so that you make speak, and explain why we have received no communication from my brother, Hope, Karl, Lometa or anyone else, all day. Nod if you understand all that Crumby. Hmmm. So you don't understand.

Mmmpph!

All righty then Crumby. I guess that's possible. I just assumed you understood that you were supposed to check all the digital appliances for incoming messages.

Mmmpph!

Never mind Crumby. You need a break. Move over so I can get at the appliances. And keep your trap shut. There now, Isn't this comfy. Well now, we have a few messages from Hope.
_____

Hi everybody. Ray, Lometa and Karl have gone after Lomo. I am outside the Royal Compound. Goodness gracious! I may get an interview with Rootin' Tootin' Putin. How about that?

Hope Remains, Ace Reporter


Hello. Is anybody home. I got an interview with the Putin. Hello.

Hope Remains, Ace Reporter

Crumby Ovate, you are supposed to pick up. Dang it, Crumby. Hello.

Hope Remains, Ace Reporter

Hello. Yoohoo. Guess what? Mr. Putin told me, exclusively, that due to the great friendship that has sprung up between him and the Kinglet, that he will loan the Russian army to the Kinglet, if the Kinglet decides to restore order following the commutation. How about that? Goodness! Is anybody there? Have y'all been arrested?

Hope Remains, Ace Reporter

OK, Crumby Ovate. I know you are in charge of the venue in Ray's absence. You better not be ignoring me.

Hope Remains, Ace Reporter
_____

Hmmm. And here's one from Ray.

Crumby. We found Lomo in Nova Scotia. Be sure to tell Red that Lomo has been found. Also, tell Nancy that Karl will be home tomorrow morning. All righty then, bosom buddy. And be sure to tell Olwen we miss her. Say. Maybe Olwen can drop by Kennebunkport tonight and I can enjoy both my beautiful girlfriends up here in Maine.
_____

And Nancy spells.

I have now left four messages, that's four, for the Crumby Ovate? Crumby, if you are ignoring me, it is the bosom asp, fer ye!
_____

OK. That's a fair sample of the incoming. So you see Crumby, there is more to the venue than spelling your own ideas, feelings and opinions.

Correct Rayetta. That is obvious to me now. And it is equally obvious to me now that you will protect me from any bosom asps that may be headed this way. Obviously, previously, I did not understand that Ray's very important venue job included handling communications from the terrible yet merciful Nancy, Goddess of Practical Jokes. You know yourself, Rayetta, I may be allergic to the bite or sting of the bosom asp. And if I am stung or bitten repeatedly by such a fearsome animal, I may then be too feeble to get a job. In which event I shall never come up with another 180 bucks.

We'll see Crumby. Now be quiet while I communicate with everyone. Go get me a raspberry soda. This could take a while.

Crumby, Back in the Stream

Mmmmm. Cereal. Just about every day I have a bowl of cereal. The cereals I favor are Grape Nuts and oat meal. During Beelzebubberriffic, I eat Grape Nuts. But during Polaris or Polar Bear, I eat oat meal. So my cereal of choice is seasonally related.

Then there are some other cereals I ate formerly. In the old days as I labored at Republican ecology, I ate lots of Raisin Bran. That's because Raisin Bran was often given away at the tourist court continental breakfast. Yep. I would get up early and go to the tourist court lobby and have a couple of big bowls of Raisin Bran. Then I would forlornly trudge back to my room and spell up that day's field notes into a report. Republican ecology reports have one thing going for them, they can be entirely, made up.

All that report spelling would take maybe an hour, counting some time spent performing ablutions. I always included ablution performances as work. Same difference. Then, after I had my report made up, Martha Stewart would generally be on the TV. I got lots of tips from Martha that have much succored me in these latter days, later in life. Many of those tips have helped to make me more popular than ever with the ladies. I use those tips to relate to the ladies. Course, TV with Martha was also, on the clock.

But then Martha got sent off to prison. I was profoundly influenced by Martha's incarceration. So much so, that I decided to forego my lucrative business as a professional Republican ecology shill.

Another interesting cereal that I occasionally eat is Puffins. Puffins, like many of the cereals foisted upon me when I was too little to defend myself, may also be consumed as a snack. Puffins is, in fact, very similar to Sugar Smacks. Mmmm, Sugar Smacks, a great source of nervous energy. Yepper. Sugar Smacks is the ideal breakfast for an active child headed off to Sunday School. Can I take the box wimme, Mama?

Want to try something different on your taste buds? Try Sugar Smacks, then Red Man. The contrast, both in taste and texture, is interesting. Plus, your jaw may lock up.

Puffins though, contain less nervous energy than Sugar Smacks. Plus Puffins may be more educational than Sugar Smacks. On the back of the Puffins box, the literate learn interesting facts, in fact, about Puffins. For example, a Puffin, the bird, can hold its breath for up to a minute.

Many may not know about the cereal product, Puffins. Yet Ray and I are not above boosting our favorite products in the venue. Ray especially is forever shamelessly promoting his favorite consumer items. So here's what Puffins looks like in the box. Also, see that tie draped on the box. That's my favorite tie. That tie can easily be worn without a shirt.

Ray and me have been working up a refinement of the ridiculous spell, "You are what you eat." That spell is ridiculous. But what about this? What if humans that eat the same foods become more and more alike? What if everybody ate nothing but Puffins for a year, and became, just like me? Well, maybe not just like me, but more like me. Ha! I bet they would too. We should all then have lots in common at the end of that famous year.

Crumby's Stream of Conciousness for the Day

All righty then. Rayetta went to bed last night. Praise the Goddess, I did not arouse Rayetta with my hollering. If I had succeeded in arousing her with my hollering, I would have been sorry. But now Rayetta is fixing to arrive at the lab for the butterflies. Meantime, my bosom companion, Ray, and company are gone off on a perilous adventure. I sure hope most of them get back here safe and sound, eventually. Then too, I have been quite excited by the many photographs Ray brought back from west of the Pecos. I have been busy annotating those photographs. They are interesting because the object of Ray's efforts is generally central to the picture, yet, a great many incidental wonders are depicted off center and I need to figure out what those are. Plus, there is the challenge of figuring out the out-of-focus ones. I sure am hungry all of a sudden. Where's that dang Rayetta? I want my cereal. Dang it! Hey there! Dr. Pistrum, what about those butterflies? I'm hungry. I am near starvation, yet chained to the venue. Where the heck is Rayetta now? I'm feeling faint. That's right. Somebody, possibly Rayetta, shall find me here in the laboratory, starved to death. Naught shall remain of me but skin with bones sticking out through the skin. Er. How long shall this fat last me? Mercy. My fat is rapidly disappearing right before my eyes. Help! Help! Help!

Hello Crumby. Is Crumby, hungry? Then run along and have your cereal. But first, introduce me to the venue, properly.

All righty then. Now it is time for Dr. Pistrum, the renowned yet merciful Lovely Druidess Rayetta, here come upon the CB venue to spell upon the subtopic, CB butterflies. Harrrruuuuuuuuuuh!!!!

Hmmm. Not bad Crumby.

Rayetta’s Lepidopteran’s

Even though, there are maybe a tousand or two butterflies habitating at the CB at this very nonce, those butterflies are ones previously addressed in this venue, mostly. There may be some butterflies around that I have not addressed, but I have not yet caught up to those with the slower camera. So I am branching out to include a moth, or muth. My thinking behind this historic decision is, I finally photographed a Sphingid. This particular Sphingid is tame, asleep or dead. Take your pick.

Also, there are the grapes to consider. Much Lepidopteran activity is associated with the grapes, both V. mustangensis and the cultivar. We have a bumper grape crop this year and that unusual phenomena has led me to spend more time observing the grapes. Apparently, during its youth, Amphion nessus is a grape or grape relative feeder.

Then too we have leaf rollers on the grapes. More on those leaf rollers anon, maybe.

Finally, we have two hummingbird moths. One has a red abdomen and the other has a black and gold abdomen. I did not know that there were two kinds of clear-winged hummingbird moths in these parts. But Dr. Holland indicates there could be even more than two. So far, I have managed to sneak up on them with the slower camera, but my pictures are, shall we say, marginally useful.

Since I follow the taxonomy of Dr. Holland’s ancient tome, The Moth Book, in this venue, the clear-winged sphingids are named H@morrhagia.

Sunday, July 01, 2007

Crumby, Venue Boss

All righty then. I am temporarily in charge of the venue until Ray gets back. Ray, my bosom companion, is off to the Maine Woods to help Hope, find Lomo. Karl the famous Tracker Druid from the Joke Factory is gone off with Ray. So is Lometa, Praise the Goddess. Proto human females make me nervous. So, no Lometa hanging around shall make me more relaxed. Right now, for example, I am more relaxed than I would be if I surmised Lometa might be around.

I have attempted to use self-analysis on myself to find out why proto human females make me even more nervous than the advanced models. But so far, I have not come to any conclusions other than the proto human ones are more prone to grab on to me when I am not expecting to be grabbed on too.

Like one day I was out in the pecan orchard, thinking. I do my most serious thinking outdoors while standing on one foot. There I was thinking, when all of a sudden I feel these little feral hands grab both my ears. Guess who, tee-he-he-he. Yep It was that dang Lometa trapezing down from a tree branch and grabbing me by the ears. She startled me too, so that I almost lost my balance along with my train of thought. Plus, that sort of stuff is undignified. An ovate of my standing should not have to put up with startling monkey shines while he’s thinking.

Anyway, maybe Karl will take his time rounding up Lomo and I shall be spared Lometa’s company long enough for my nerves to make a full recovery. On the other hand, that is unlikely. Karl, began his tracking career pre-birth. That’s right. Karl tracked stuff down when he was still in the womb. One time, when Karl was minus 14 days he tracked down a pig rustling event so ancient that those rustled pigs were three counties off and into their third post rustling generation when Karl tracked them down. Yet, Karl had those pigs back to their rightful owner in under an hour. Odds are, Lometa won’t be gone long.

Gol dern it! I need a clear night so I can have Lleu Llaw set up the great red tube. Then, once Lleu Llaw has the great red tube set up, we may espy Jupiter. Apparently, Jupiter looks different than it did this time last year. But the clouds, earth’s clouds over these parts, need to break for all that to occur. Then I may gawk upon the reconfigured clouds of the gas giant, Jupiter.

Until then, can’t see the clouds, fer the clouds. Huh, huh.

But now, at this very nonce, I need to holler for Rayetta.

All righty then. Oh, Lovely Druidess Rayetta, Dr. Pistrum, are you ready to do somewhat of a butterfly soiree on the venue?

Oh, Dr. Pistrum are you in your office fixing to come to the lab for Rayetta’s Butterflies?

Ray-et-ta, where ere ye?

Uh, oh. Apparently, Dr. Pistrum is not within earshot. I shall have to go round the LDR up.

Ray's Thought for the Day - Kennebunkport

Ray, they are not letting me anywhere near the Royal Compound. Plus a cop hollered at Lomo,
Get away from there you big ape.
So Lomo had to smack the cop. Then a bunch more cops came along. They chased Lomo up a tree. But Lomo brachiated off into the woods. Now my cameraperson is hiding in the woods. Boo-hoo! I hate this job. Plus I stayed up all night working up pretty relevant questions to ask the Putin. Then I forgot to set my alarm clock so I overslept. So when I eventually woke up I was groggy. So when I groggily sat down in the comfort station this morning, Lomo had peed on the seat. And I forgot to wipe the seat first so I got proto human pee on me. Boo-hoo. Boo-hoo.

Uh. I'm sorry about all that, Hope.

Boo-hoo. Not sorry enough Ray. Boo-hoo. Boo-hoo-hoo.

Uh. Can I do anything to help you out from the CB?

Gracious sakes Ray. Course you can. That's why I called. Now listen. Sniffle. Lomo may be lost in the woods by now. Plus the police are probably still after him. So I want you to get off yer ass and come up here. I may need some help finding my cameraperson, Lomo. Also, just to make sure we can find him, call Nancy. Tell Nancy what's happened and tell her also that we need Karl the Tracker Druid to help us find Lomo.

Uh. Listen sugar pie, you may be over-reacting.

Boo-hoo-hoo. No, I am not over-reacting, Ray. You and Karl get up here right now at this very nonce. I have had it. So you better get up here right this very minute once you call Nancy and round up, Karl.

Uh. But I been werkin' in the sun all day.

Ray! Boo-hoo-hoo-hoo.

Uh. Dang it. All righty then. I'll do all that and be along in a minute.

Yay! Thanks sweetie. See you in a little while. Bye.

Bye. Click. Jeez Louise!

Rootin’ Tootin’ Putin Vs. Smirky, Shirky Kinglet

Now let’s get ready to rumble? Goodness gracious sakes alive. Just when I figured I was off the Kinglet beat due to lack of interest, here comes R.T. Putin. So the DNS sends me, Hope Remains, Ace Reporter, off to Maine to cover the donnybrook.

OK. An all expenses paid trip to Maine is a pretty sweet deal during Beelzebubberiffic, Republic of Tejas style. Except, they put me up in this crumby bed and breakfast. I have to share a comfort station with Cameraperson Lomo. Gracious sakes!

However, all that aside, an Ace Reporter like me needs to feel like her job is slightly relevant. So, on the off chance that these twain leaders of their respective subsets of the white race, business class, take questions from the press, I shall have a few questions ready for those twain.

On the other hand, perhaps I should focus on Rooter Tooter, exclusively. I might get a straight answer out of the Kinglet’s good friend, Putin. Yep. That’s the ticket. Why waste any more time on the Kinglet? Let’s see. My word. Let’s see. I’ll swan. Let’s see. Whatever shall I ask Mr. Putin? What shall be my slightly relevant query?

Hmmm. What the heck? This is pretty hard work thinking up slightly relevant questions. I know. I’ll brainstorm a few potential questions and sleep on them. Then perhaps the WG shall pick one or two of the best ones for me as I sleep, all cosy. Yep. That’s the ticket, all righty then.


Potential Questions for Mr. Putin

Mr. Putin, I notice that you are shorter than the Kinglet. How do you feel about that?

Mr. Putin, which do you like best, beets or turnips? (Ray wants me to ask that one).

Mr. Putin, are you a goddessless atheist, and if not, which goddesses or gods do you appeal to and vice versa?

Mr. Putin, who is your personal favorite Menshevik?

Mr. Putin, some friends of mine back in the Republic of Tejas were wondering if you are a trading card collector. Like for example, in Russia do Russians collect trading cards, like maybe card sets of historic Mensheviks and Bolsheviks or Czars or chess players or lady tumblers. How about boxers? They were wondering if you collect those cards and if there is anything like that in Russia. And if not, they were also wondering if they could maybe market some cards like that in Russia and if you think there would be a market. How about a Leon Trotsky action figure?

Mr. Putin, the Kinglet says you are his good friend. Do you surmise that friendship only applies because you are a booster of state capitalism, a polite term for fascism, or is there some other reason?

Mr. Putin, is the state ever going to wither away, and if so, what will have to take place before it withers?

Or, Mr. Putin, is there fixing to be one big global capitalist state, and if so, how will you Slavs fit in?

Yawn! Gracious sakes alive. Those are all pretty relevant. Snore.