Ray's Rainfall Update - A Little Relief from the Heat, but not from the Imperialism

Praise the Goddess fer a little shower yesterday, the first since Day 262 of DY 1. The new total is 46.23" + 0.28" = 46.51". Officially, we just have to survive 15 more days of Beelzebubberriffic. Then commences, Hope Remains, the season. Perhaps yesterday's shower harkens an end to the sweltering heat, but maybe not. Either way, sweat is free.

The day is number 282, DY 1. Sadly, despite our Kinglet's efforts, a military junta prevails in Burma, the nation-state that inspired Burma Shave. You may know, a Sun God Trainee, like me, is supposed to think about everything he or she knows, at least once a day. But I had clean forgotten about Burma until the Kinglet reminded me. Thanks Kinglet for reminding me about the miserable Burmese.

Uh. Is the Kinglet fixing to Shock and Awe, Burma?

Not likely that. That situation is being handled behind the scenes by our Chinese trading partners, maybe, just like in Free Tibet. Noper, no shock and awe for the miserable Burmese. They just get snorted at.

But the Kinglet shocked me. I was in awe that the Kinglet remembered the miserable Burmese. Somebody over at the White Palace must have hollered,

Kinglet, the miserable Burmese are fixing to mix it up with their military junta.

Sure enough, there those miserable Burmese were, marching along, getting shot up, again, just in time for the Kinglet to appear prophetic at the United Nations.

OK. Here's an interesting question. How many Mammonite Republicans display Free Tibet bumper stickers on their great vehicles? Seems like all those Free Tibet bumper stickers wind up on little weasly vehicles. Yet now, perhaps, thanks entirely to our Kinglet, Free Burma bumper stickers shall be affixed upon many a great vehicle, right next to the symbolic fish and the yellow ribbon sticker denoting the near certain payment of taxes.

Ray’s Thought for the Day - Werkin’ in the Sun

The best things in life are free. All righty then, what are some of those free, best things one enjoys while werkin’ in the sun. Sweat and ants come to mind. They are both, free. So sweat and ants must be among the best things in life, taken fer grant it, while werkin’ in the sun.

Has anyone besides me ever wondered, will the fire ant (Solenopsis invicta) attack a sweaty person? Does sweat deter those free fire ants? Well, fear not! I can answer that question for everybody, easily. Sweat does not deter the free fire ants. Yepper! Free fire ants attack the sweaty.

Yepper, the weather has waxed Beelzebubberriffic in these parts lately. As an effect, my diurnal activities have produced lots of free sweat. Yet surely, the Merciful Goddess shall command a break from all this oppressive heat anon, so that sweat shall become more dear, but still free, er.

Now I am fixing to get my weekly delicious cinnamon bun. My delicious cinnamon bun is not free. Because it is not free, I may not, honestly, include my delicious cinnamon bun among the best things in life. But that’s OK. Balance prescribes that both the free and the enslaved are necessary facets of life as we know it, the one complementing the other. Free sweat and ants on one side of the scale, balancing my delicious enslaved cinnamon bun.

Then also, that terrible scale is whirling about at a dreadful pace. Only inertia plus gravity keep the free ants, the sweat, my delicious cinnamon bun and me from flying off into the stygian, airless darkness. Mercy! Gotta go.

Rayetta’s Camera - The Olympus E 330 - Is it Naturalist Trusty?

Remember all the trouble Crumby and I went through, selecting a new camera. First, I had to convince Red we needed a new camera. Then, we had to actually pick one. Ultimately, we picked the E 330 because it seemed most like our trusty C 5060 WZ.

Now, sadly, the C 5060 WZ is caput, afflicted by the notorious mode dial affliction. Plus, Crumby is still too crazy to work so we can not afford to get the C 5060 WZ fixed. That may change though, once Crumby finds himself huddled in the laboratory. Yes, Crumby shall be huddled in the laboratory during the short season of the Polar Bear that we also call Polaris in honor of our friendly yet semi-visible guide star. Outside, Crumby’s flora and fauna buddies shall be in short shrift mode. So Crumby shall be bored. Then, Crumby shall decide to use his trusty C 5060 to take pictures through his microscope or telescopes. But, lo and behold, the C 5060 WZ is still no longer trusty. It is still broke. Boo hoo hoo.

That leaves us with just one camera, functioning at this nonce, my camera, the E 330, which broke twice while Crumby was fiddling with it. So Crumby no longer gets access to my camera. Actually, I share my camera with Ray and Raymone, but not with Crumby.

That about covers the social disposition of the E 330 at the CB for the nonce. But what of the E 330 itself. Is it a trusty camera? Well, it has been to California twice for repairs within six months. The second fix was supposedly Crumby’s fault, he stuck his finger in the camera dislodging the mirror, so we had to pay to get it fixed the second time. Since then, it has been trusty, knock on wood, except that the Hyper Crystal LCD is all smudged up. That means that the Hyper Crystal LCD is no longer hyper crystal.

I assume that the term hyper crystal alludes to the ability of the viewer of the Hyper Crystal LCD to discern images on the LCD, efficaciously, when the LCD is not directly under Ogma’s fickle gaze. Yet mine is all smudged up, making efficacious viewing difficult in any light, and thus, rendering the E 330 much less like the formerly trusty C 5060 WZ and more like the currently broken C 5060 WZ.

That said, if Crumby ever recovers his wits, so he can get a job and buy me a new camera, the new one must have a fully articulating LCD that is guaranteed not to smudge up. I would never, ever, consider a new camera lacking those features, full LCD articulation and smudge proof LCD.

Otherwise, I like the E 330 camera body OK. However, often, I find myself with the wrong lens on the camera. How annoying is that? There I am, fixing to take a picture of a relatively inert subject with the 35mm macro, when suddenly a livelier subject of more interest comes willy-wagging along. Too bad Rayetta, that lively subject has willy-wagged away, out of state, and also out of range of the trusty 35mm. Interchangeable lenses are a mixed blessing, at best. Also, as Crumby found out, changing lenses can be perilous if you stick your finger in the camera body while doing a lens change.

The average camera person, reading this, might well aver, why all the carping Rayetta, just go back to Point and Shoot. Well, I may just do that, if the camera manufacturers ever come up with one, or possibly two, naturalist friendly, trusty cameras that meet my needs. Those cameras would have to be trusty and Crumby proof. Plus they would need to be adapter friendly.

Meantime though, I am fixing to break open my piggy bank to see if there is enough spare change inside to cover the cost of the upcoming 70-300mm. Then, if I get that lens, I shall probably have to commandeer Lleu Llaw to hold it for me. That one, with a mass of 660 grams, shall require a steady hand.

Rayetta's Butterflies - The Orange-Barred Sulphur (Phoebis philea)

Right now, at the CB we have all three of the Phoebis Sulphurs that occur in these parts, Norte Americanerriffic. I have already covered the other two in this venue. All of the Phoebis butterflies are big and nervous. Phoebis philea is the biggest of the three, but perhaps, not the most nervous. This is a big female. Ogma Sunface is behind her so the picture inidcates the nice orange showing through from the topsides of the wings. This reminds me of my first view, many years ago, of a yellow warbler, also lit up by the fickle Ogma.

Common Sense, Common Decency, Common Honesty

Yepper! Kinky is back on the talking head circuit, snake-oiling another book. According to Kinky, common sense, common decency and common honesty are the common attributes the common political partisans have forgotten in their common quest for common-ism. Uh. Actually that may be my interpretation, as opposed to a direct quote from Kinky.

But hey, common sense, common decency and common honesty are not forgotten common attributes after all. Last night, the commonly acknowledged leading lights of the other US imperialist party rushed to embrace the imperialist policies of the Kinglet through 2013, at least. (Let’s see. 2013 will be DY 7). As it turns out, all the leading US politicians and elected officials have lots in common after all. Why, they sound just like the Kinglet.

Unless the leading candidates of the other imperialist party are lying, to enhance electoral chances. Ooooh! Maybe they are lying. Maybe, once elected, the other imperialist party electee shall precipitously withdraw from miserable Iraq, engendering chaos and instability among the surviving miserable Iraqis throughout downtown Baghdad. Unlikely that. Noper, US is headed out on our imperialist adventure for evermore, or at least until our economy collapses.

Er. I lack common sense, entirely, Praise the Goddess. Now, as it turns out, I lack common decency and common honesty, too. So I am completely at a loss, understanding what is decent and honest about imperialism.

Ray's Thought for the Day - Whoa! The Christmas Mountains

Jeez Louise! The Republic of Tejas Land Commissioner (ROT), Jerry Patterson, has an editorial in the daily doofus newspaper. And I thought Jerry was just an internet café gadabout. Turns out, he actually does some work at the Land Commission (LC), maybe. Well anyway, he has written an editorial, by himself maybe, on a topic currently roiling the ROT LC, whoa!, the Christmas Mountains. Selling the Christmas Mountains gives us a chance to save them.

Douglas Brinkley, cable TV talking head, apparently got Jerry’s Christmas Mountain goat, or mule deer, stirring Jerry to retributive action, after big Doug also wrote an editorial for the same doofus daily, by himself maybe, on the same topic, whoa!, the Christmas Mountains. OK. I, Ray Pistrum, Sun God Trainee, have barely read both editorials. So now I am expert on, whoa!, the Christmas Mountains, just like Doug and Jerry. Even more of an expert, in fact, because now I know what both of those twain know, which is up to twice as much as either of them know. Ha!

All righty then, the big deal is the eventual disposition of 9000 acres of real estate located in the Trans Pecos. The ROT got gifted the real estate by an outfit known as the Conservation Fund. However, the real estate is entangled in deed restrictions which prohibit Jerry from improving the property. Turns out, Jerry wanted to do some minor improvements, “restoring water wells, conducting brush management, and improving access roads.” But the Conservation Fund blocked him. Since Jerry can’t improve the property, due to the deed restrictions, but also because he has no authority or funding to do the necessary improvements, Jerry needs to sell the property. If Jerry does sell the property, the proceeds, less administrative costs and some skimming, may eventually wind up in the Permanent School Fund, maybe.

Er. I wonder if big Jerry undertook any of the minor improvements before he read the deed restrictions. I also wonder, since “the Land Office has neither the authority nor the funding to restore the land to its natural state.”, where Jerry thought he was fixing to get the authority and funding for the minor improvements. Yet, I also wonder how a private sector purchaser of the 9000 acres shall accomplish these same minor improvements, contemplated by Jerry, given the deed restrictions. “A private interest will have the financial ability to act.” Uh. What will the private interest do? Go to court to get the deed restrictions amended.

Hmmm. Jerry is right. The ROT, under the current leadership, is incapable of carrying out preservation and restoration on its public lands, even if it desired to do that. That’s because the ROT responsible parties are too stupid to do that, even if they wanted to do that, and they don’t.

In summary, Jerry and Doug are both enviro-idiots. I forget why Doug is an enviro-idiot, but I’m sure he is. This situation, the ultimate disposition of the Xmas Mountains, whoa!, is just another sad example of our ruling class scraping the bottom of the bean bin for ideas. So the likes of Doug and Jerry get printed on the editorial page of the doofus daily.

Rayetta's Butterflies in Exile - The Tropical Leafwing

All three of you, stop that whining. Crumby and Karl shall be here anon. Then we shall all be whisked back to the relative safety of the CB in no time, no time at all. Meantime, I shall do some remote computing, accessing the CB laboratory computer from afar. Ha! There are my butterfly files. Stop that whining, you three. We shall pass the time reviewing my CB butterfly pictuere files. Won't that be fun! Here's one I took before we left the CB yesterday. That lantana could just as easily be a banana. Both the beetle and the butterfly depicted, are likely to free load at the banana feeder. Yet there they are, on the lantana.

OK. I shall remotely draw a line to those little wing toofers, then label them, toofers. Hmmm. For a certainty I have at last documented the famous tropical leafwing (Anaea adiea) for the CB BDS. Those extra wing toofers are the deciding factor. So now, both the leafwings are in the CB BDS. Isn't that swell!! Well, isn't it? Why the long face, Lleu Llaw?

Uh. Lovely Druidess, I am perturbed that the Homeland Security may get me. After all, I should have the dickens of a time explaining myself under torture. How could I possibly convince Homeland Security that I am enduring this iteration as servant to Crumby because of sins I committed in the first century? I daresay those Homeland Security types shall torture me even more if I spell, or spill, all that.

Forget it Lleu Llaw. They shall never catch you alive. Anyway, here come Crumby and Karl. We are saved. Praise the Goddess!!!!

Rayetta’s Payback

Totally Censored!!!!

Instead, we present a special rendition of, Ray’s Thought for the Day

OK. Well, my sister and associates are hiding out somewhere, east of here. Apparently, Ms. Merriam called Homeland Security on Rayetta. That’s bad for Ms. Merriam. Nobody likes a snitch. Possibly that was Rayetta’s payback intention all along, to spook Ms. Merriam into calling Homeland Security.

Anyway, Crumby is awaiting the arrival of Karl the Tracker Druid. I can see Crumby through the laboratory window, out by the curb, pacing. That’s all happening because Rayetta may be lost. Rayetta called Crumby to come get her. But she couldn’t explain where she was. So Crumby had to call Karl to help recover my sister and her accomplices. I bet Crumby is fairly aggravated by this turn of events, since, when the call came in, Crumby was safely ensconced in his orgone box. Yet now, my bosom companion must depart on a perilous adventure to rescue my sister, plus her associates. Lucky for me, I am in charge of the venue and too busy to go.

OK. We need to do a Rayetta’s Butterflies because we are accumulating a backlog. Since I don’t know what to do, I shall do this one, featuring Aster subulatus, an unpopular lawn weed.

Many may have wondered, or more likely, few have wondered, what is Aster subulatus good for. Well, it appears to be good for this skipper. Uh. This may be Julia’s skipper (Nastra julia). But it could just as easily be some other skipper. I actually have no idea what skipper it is. I don't have, even a lowly opinion.

Ray's Thought for the Day - Is Al Richer Now than when the Kinglet Took Over?

Course Al is richer now. Those tax cuts bracketed big Al. Now though, Al spells, I was against those old tax cuts, since my book has more potential upside than the tax cuts, which are old news, these days. Forget about the old news tax cuts, buy the rumor, my book.

My goodness, the US ruling class hacks are transparently self-interested these days. Mercy! What a disgusting person Al is. Mercy! Al is another one we would not let in the front yard. Good Goddess, please keep Al away from my savings account. Uh. Do yourself a favor. Don't buy Al's book.

However, Al does not lie all the time. He spells truth, sometimes. For example, as Al spells, the Clintons are Republicans. So it looks like the upcoming general shall feature two Republicans, one from each of the twain imperialist parties. What a surprise, that is!

Yet before I get myself all worked up about Al and the rest of the incredibly transparent liars and gluttons hawking their books on the TV, I shall move on to a more pleasant topic, killer flies. Believe it or not, this killer fly is named by the learned, Mallaphora belzebul, after Satan, or Lucifer, also known as Beelzebub, or Bezebul for short. Check out the pants on the rearmost leg.

Meantime, my sister, Rayetta, has gone off to the Tabby Lab, seeking payback. But before she departed, Rayetta documented two new species for the CB BDS. Those twain would be the large and beautiful orange-barred sulphur (Phoebis philea) and the troubling tropical leafwing (Anaea aidea). Perhaps Rayetta shall post photographs of those twain, anon.

Crumby’s Gum Cave Relapse

Man! I don’t want to ride in the backseat with that dang Lometa all the way to the Tabby Lab. Sure enough, considering the traffic in these part, we shall get stuck in traffic. Then Lometa, bored, shall begin to pester me. Then, once I have suffered all the indignities I can stand, I shall spell something mean or other and Lometa shall begin to cry or snuffle. Then, Rayetta shall retaliate or turn Lomo loose on me. Mercy! I need to avoid this adventure. Think Crumby. Think how you can avoid this adventure. Ovate something or other.

Boy howdy! My new toofer cavity or gum hole is aggravating me. Seems like it ought to be better now. It’s been four days. That’s four for the Crumby Ovate, but it’s still aggravating me. Er.

Crumby! Are you ready yet? Lomo has the great vehicle loaded up. We’re fixing to set off for the Tabby Lab.

Er. Rayetta, my toofer cavity is apparently relapsing, piteously. Perhaps I should take a pill or two, then retreat to my orgone box for awhile. That way, I shall be all healed up. This upcoming adventure could be too much fer me, considering the pitiful condition of my new toofer cavity or gum cave.

Nonsense Crumby. Come out of the Boy’s Comfort Station this instant. This adventure was your idea in the first place.

All righty then, Rayetta, I’ll come out, but you need to check my new toofer cavity or gum cave. I’m pretty sure it’s backslid. It is aggravating me. Even my tongue on that side is aggravated.

Crumby! Wash your hands and come out of there. I’ll check your gum cave if you come on out of there, expeditiously.

All righty then. Here’s the church, here’s the steeple, here comes a flood that drowns all the people. Ha! Look at ‘em wiggle. There they go, down the drain.

Dry your hands, Crumby.

All righty then. I am dried off and coming on out of the Comfort Station.

There you are, Crumby. That’s better. Let’s just march you over here to the laboratory window. Sit down Crumby. Tilt your head back. Say ahhhh.

Ahhhhhhhh.

Hmmm. Crumby, something is stuck in your gum cave. When did you take the gauze out?

That would be in the neighborhood of three days ago Rayetta.

Well, apparently you didn’t get it all out. Some of that gauze is still stuck in your gum cave. That gauze has to come out of there. Open really wide Crumby. Let me just get a firm grip on that slimy, octopus like gauze.

Owwwwwwww!

Stop that whining Crumby. Open wide again, I can see some more of it still stuck in there.

Owwwwww!

There now it’s all out. Go wash your mouth out with salt water Crumby. There’s no telling where my hands have been. Then once the bleeding stops, you may take a pill or two. Go on now, you may want to relax in your orgone box.

But Rayetta, what about the payback adventure and Ms. Merriam?

Your not fit for duty Crumby. You are excused.. Lleu Llaw can go in your stead. A steady hand may come in handy on this adventure.

Ray's Thought for the Day - The Spider's, the Killer

After I enjoyed my delicious cinnamon this morning I headed out to, hold it. Guess what I did at the delicious cinnamon vendor's. Can't guess, huh. Don't want to guess, huh. Well, consistent with the bizarro conservation theme recently introduced into this venue by me, Ray Pistrum, Sun God Trainee, I requested the very biggest cinnamon bun in the tray. That particular delicious cinnamon bun was also situated in the row furthest from the vendor, yet closest to me, and thus, comparitively difficult for the vendor to extract from the tray. Nevertheless, I made sure that cinnamon bun was the one I got. Remember, in bizarro conservation, it's OK to use up all the resources before those resources are wasted on gluttonous Republicans. Employing bizarro conservation at work, you should use up corporate resources. Like leave all the water faucets running in the restrooms. If the tp in the restroom is to your liking, take it home. Also, don't ever turn your computer off. Leave your computer on until it crashes. Then call tech support. Yepper, it's not much that you can do, but every little bit helps. Take back the tax breaks for the rich, one tp roll at a time.

Now that I got all that out of my system for the nonce, it is time for, the Spider's the Killer. The particular killer spider that caught my attention is the green one that lurks under flower blossom. There that green spider lurks, mimicking the flora. Then, when an unsuspecting nectivore lands on the flower or flower cluster, it is seized by long creepy legs. Once seized the innocent nectivore is savagely bitten. Cruel mandibles covered with slaver seek out a tender part. Then, soon, all the juices are sucked out of that susposedly innocent nectivore. Just yesterday I espied these green spider killers sucking the life out of a honey bee, a great purple hairstreak, and today, this miserable bug, depicted. This is the biggest of the green spider killers I have yet espied. Those familiar with the size of Eupatorium greggii flowers, here included photographically for scale, may appreciate the relatively enormous size of this green spider killer.

Rayetta's Butterflies - Some Etymology

The fore feet are without tarsal claws, and hence the name “Brush-footed Butterflies” has been applied to them.

Hmmm. So why are the Nymphalidae spelled as brush-footed, again?

The fore feet are without tarsal claws, and hence the name “Brush-footed Butterflies” has been applied to them.

So, anybody lacking tarsal claws on the fore foot or feet, may be termed brush-footed. Sorry, Dr. Holland, you have lost me. Anyway, I know what Dr. Holland was trying to spell, maybe. The fore legs of Nymphalids resemble eyebrow brushes. Hence, brush-footed. Either that, or they like to stand on brush utilizing their four functional feet.

Having discovered, perhaps, the meaning of brush-foot, the vulgar term for the Nymphalidae, I shall review the etymology of butterfly. I’ll e-mail Ms. Merriam Webster, the Tabby Lab librarian.

Yoohoo, Ms. Merriam. What is the etymology of butterfly, ASAP?

Thanks,

Rayetta Pistrum, LDR, Ph.D.

Later.

Rayetta,

What does ASAP stand for, dear? Let me guess. How about, as stupid as possible. Do you think, young lady, that I shall drop everything, here at the Tabby Lab, to answer your e-mail.

Ms. Merriam Webster
Curator of Spell Patterns
Druid Tabby Lab

Well I never! The nerve of that woman. Hmmm. I shall tell on her. I shall copy my request, plus Ms. Merriam’s impolite and unprofessional response to Badgemagus Swineherd, Ph.D., president of our bucolic Druid college, the Tabby Lab.

Ah, the wonder of instant messaging. Here we go. That was quick. Ha! Dr. Swineherd has already gotten back to me.

To whomever,

I shall be out of the office for a fortnight or twain. If your panties are wadded up in emergency mode and you just can not wait a fortnight or twain, contact Ms. Merriam Webster.

Dr. Badgemagus Swineherd
President and Presiding Senior Know-It-All
Druid Tabby Lab

Darn it! This is infuriating. Those academic types! Well, la-de-da. Hmmm. Where’s Crumby? Crumby always has etymology opinions. Crumby! Get in here!

Ye maam. I have, heeding your cry, come along in great haste, sore feet and all. How may I be of service, lovely druidess?

What is the etymology of butterfly, Crumby?

Er. It is well known, Rayetta, that many are capable of transmigrations to this or that form, a form so unlike their usual form, that those that do the transformations are disguised, often cleverly, so that in such and such disguise they are mistaken for someone or something else. Like say I want to attend a poop party, Rayetta. But everyone would spell, Crumby, Druid Ovates do not go to poop parties. It is beneath the dignity of Druid Ovates to attend poop parties. Besides, poop parties are nasty.

So if I really wanted to go to a poop party, I might do a transformation and change my appearance into that of a more humble animal that might normally be espied, enjoying a poop party, for example, a butterfly.

Generally, those butterflies at the poop parties I have attended are Nymphalids, also known as the brush-footed butterflies. Their front pair of legs are dainty, so that the Nymphlids may easily fold them up to keep them out of the poop. That way, only the beak and the four other legs are in actual contact with the poop. Neither do the wings make much contact with the poop. Those four wings may be held up vertically so that they do not drag in the poop. Yet, of course, sometimes a great weariness may steal over the average Nymphalid butterfly so that those wings may droop in the poop, anyway.

Achtung Crumby! I have not got, all day. Do you have an opinion on the etymology of butterfly, or not?

Well I have been thinking about that very topic as we discourse here, Rayetta. As you may know yourself, Rayetta, slang is the typical common parlance among the vulgar. Long ago, a vulgar swineherd, noting that the terminal end of his charges was where the poop was emanating from, decided to henceforth spell that terminal end, butt. Then, logically, any organism attracted to the poop that emanated from the butt, henceforth from that day on, was spelled, butter. Therefore, if that organism flew to the butt, that organism was henceforth spelled, butter fly. Course, that is only my opinion.

Never mind, Crumby. Ms. Merriam has e-mailed me back again. Hmmm. Let’s see what that old hagling has to say for herself.

Rayetta,

As you have doubtless discovered by now, I, Ms. Merriam Webster, am in administrative charge of the Tabby Lab while Badgemagus is off faunching around. Yes, Badgmagus is off on a collecting trip. Go ahead, Rayetta, try to contact Badgemagus. You might try his cell phone. Ha, ha, ha!

Ms. Merriam Webster
Curator of Spell Patterns
Druid Tabby Lab

Well, I never. This is outrageous. That old hagling has had plenty of time to look up the etymology of butterfly for me. The proof of that is, these twain insulting e-mails. Well, we shall soon see about this.

Er, Rayetta.

What is it now, Crumby?

When Ray and me have to find out something, like maybe an etymology, Ms. Merriam always makes us look it up ourselves.

Oh she does, does she! Then what does Ms. Merriam do with all her free time? Hmmm. She probably takes an epsom salt bath, or has her toe nails polished, while you and Ray or doing her job for her. We shall soon see about all this!

I know Rayetta. We can take a trip over to the Tabby Lab. I can look up the etymology of butterfly, while you see to Ms. Merriam.

Good idea, Crumby. We shall take the great vehicle. Lomo can drive. I shall ride shotgun. You Crumby, can sit in the back seat with Lometa. Won’t that be fun!

But Rayetta, if I have to sit in the back seat with Lometa, she’ll pester me.

Never mind that, Crumby. We have a plan. Anon, Ms. Merriam shall discover the true meaning of cause and effect.

Rayetta's Butterflies - Out and About, Again

Once I had Crumby tucked into his orgone box, I had to get out for awhile. That's because Crumby, asleep, began to recount his adventure at the dentist's. First I monitored the CB butterflies. But then, checking on Crumby once the monitoring was done, and discovering he was still stuck in dentist's visit mode, I decided to take a little trip over to the Gaines Creek woodlot, surmising the nymphs and satyrs might be cavorting in those parts. They weren't.

Yet the trip was not a total loss. Just the converse, the trip, was a win. Here's why!

This is a cloudywing, but not a northern cloudywing (Thorybes pylades). The white spots are too many and too bold. But what cloudywing is it? Well, I am not sure. But I am of the opinion that this one may be a confused cloudywing (Thorybes confusis. But it may be a southern cloudywing (Thorybes bathyllus). However, the southern cloudywing may not occur in these parts.

In any event, these three cloudywings may be an example of CB BDS methodology failure. It could be that the only way to safely identify them is to inspect their wee-wees. Don't wait up for me to do that.

Apparently, there is also some confusion regarding ecological separation among the southeastern Pylades. Not surpising if one must await wee-wee inspection for identification. Perhaps, the wee-wee inspectors are not so great on ecological notation and perhaps the ecological note takers eschew wee-wee inspections. Oh well!

The Julia heliconian (Dryas julia), on the other hand, is unmistakable. From top to bottom that's dun skipper, great purple hairstreak and Julia.

The great purple hairstreak may have provided the inspiration for some of the hairdos one sees occasionally, out shopping.

Crumby Goes to the Dentist

Just relax, and think pleasant thoughts.

Mercy! Anytime a nurse, spells that, you know you are in for some hard times.

All righty then. Crumby, I spelled to myself, you have voluntarily placed yourself in this situation, potentially equivalent to a lamb going off to slaughter. So there is no sense struggling.

But I could easily go berserk, then subdue my tormentors. Why not overpower the nurse and dentist? Why not torture them, then go home?

Because Crumby, if you do that, no one will pull your cracked tooth, ever. Besides, the Lovely Druidess, awaiting patiently without, shall be mighty aggravated with you, if you attack the dental staff.

All righty then. I shall relax and think pleasant thoughts. Er. How easy is it, to relax and think pleasant thoughts when total strangers have me totally in their power? They are fixing to knock me out. Perhaps, they may not be content to pull out just the cracked tooth once they have me knocked out. What else might they do to me? Mercy!

What time is it? Let's see if I may espy my trusty watch. Then, when I wake up, I shall know how much time has elapsed. Ha! 11:30 AM. We shall soon see whether I survive all this, anon. And if I survive, I shall know precisely how long this dental staff had me in their power.

Ha! You rascals. You may surmise that I am out cold. Yet I am only playing possum. I can hear all your banter. What? You have lost my toofer. No! There it is. Do you see it?

Right before the dental staff put the laughing gas on me and searched for a vein, in one hand then the other, preparatory to actually pulling my cracked toofer, I queried, How easy is it to relax and think pleasant thoughts? Depends on the situation, eh, maybe.

Then, the dentist while busily employed on my person, told an anecdote about a bicyclist who pedaled himself into a Yucca. By the described enormous size of the Yucca, I determined that the unlucky bicyclist had pedaled into a Yucca treculeana. Ouch! That reminded me of the time I got up out of my trusty sleeping bag and, seeking to perform an ablution outside my trusty tent, walked into an example of that same species of Yucca, or perhaps it was the virtually indistingusiable Y. torreyi, noggin first.

Oh yes. I relaxed and thought many a pleasant thought at the dentist's.

Rayetta's Butterflies - Out and About

My busy schedule has not allowed for major butterfly safaris outside the CB. Nevertheless, I have gone off twice with the semi-expressed intent of seeking out butterflies, elsewhere.

Many moons ago, perhaps around this time last year, Ray, or maybe Crumby, captured three crimson patch caterpillars. Those unlucky caterpillars were subsequently released at the CB. The general opinion was, the CB has plenty of crimson patch caterpillar food, so those particular caterpillars should like it here. Well, apparently, they didn't.

So I backtracked to the location the crimson patch caterpillars were captured to see how they were doing. They are doing OK. This one is lollygagging.






Earlier, at a disparate location, I found yet another butterfly that is not represented at the CB. This one is Hayhurst's scallopwing. It is sitting on Calyptocarpus vialis, known in the nursery trade as, horse herb.

Finally, I recall the arrival of the white-striped longtail at the CB. Gracious sakes, I was so excited. Long I labored to take its picture. Yet long it nervously eluded me. Now though, with 8-10 white-striped longtails at the CB, I have lots of pictures. Now, this species has a culture or way of life properly set up at the CB. They are calm, and like to have their pictures taken.

Ray’s Thought for the Day - Living with Imperialism- Old Al

Having an Ovate for a bosom companion has advantages. For example, if one is the responsible party for a self-entertainment blog like this one, a timely ovation on, for example, the disposition of the miserable Iraqi oil, can come in handy. Now, thanks to Crumby, I appear to have scooped all the excitement. Ha!

Well, Al is fairly old.. So maybe he spells what he feels like. The “war” is for oil. Or, translated into Druidese, The imperialist occupation is for oil. Course it is. Everyone knows that.

Er. Well actually, everyone may not know that. In fact, many may not have even considered that. Yep. Lying, the sin, is so pervasive among US, that many may have believed the various lies that provide alternative explanations, the cause for the effect, the imperialist occupation of miserable Iraq.

But just for the heck of it, let’s spell, the imperialist occupation of miserable Iraq is all about oil. If that is true, how should we feel about that. Mercy! I do not know how most of US feel about that. However, I do know how the Druidry feel about that. First, people need to stay where they belong. US do not belong in miserable Iraq. Second, the alternative explanations that propelled US into occupying miserable Iraq in the first place were lies. So, because the occupation is predicated on lies, it is sinful. Third, if stealing the oil from the miserable Iraqis is the actual reason for the occupation of miserable Iraq, then it is a gluttonous occupation. Yikes! Both the twain worst sins are integral to the occupation of miserable Iraq. Fourth, Druid tax money is being used, against our will, for the sinful occupation of miserable Iraq. So that’s how Druids feel about the imperialist occupation of miserable Iraq. Really pissed off!!!!

An interesting question is, though, if the imperialist occupation of miserable Iraq is really for oil, how do non-Druids, that vast majority of US not constrained by Druid ethics, feel about the occupation. Yikes! I suspect that a great many of US, if the war is for oil, feel strongly committed emotionally to the imperialist occupation of miserable Iraq. Expressed as a percentage, that feeling of those many would be 100%, or rhetorically, even in excess of 100%.

Follow the money trail. It really is the economy, stupid.

Rayetta's Butterflies - Most common for the nonce, Lerema accius

For all these latter days of Beelzebubberriffic, the most common butterfly at the CB has been, and continues to be, the Clouded Skipper, Lerema accius. There are many dozens of them about. They seem to really like the relatively large blooms of Ruellias and Ipomoeas.

Ray’s Thought for the Day - Living with Imperialism, Feeeeeeeeeeelings!

Ask yourself, my fellow Americanos, Am I better off without Saddam Hussein? Er. Hmmm. Maybe. Maybe not.

That is correct. Like you, my fellow Americanos, I am having just a little trouble establishing a cause between Saddam dead, and effect, my personal peace and prosperity. That is because I lack the wherewithal to design the proposition, Am I better off without Saddam Hussein?, as a testable hypothesis. You may lack that wherewithal too, my fellow Americanos.

But what about the Kinglet, who asserts confidently, The world is better off without Saddam Hussein? OK. The Kinglet relies on common sense and body language observation to establish the facts. Common sense, probably, indicates to the Kinglet that the demise of a mass murderer is better, on a global scale, than keeping him around. Then also, the Kinglet may have noted all kinds of body language changes in the global populace indicating that everyone, globally, was more peaceful and prosperous after Saddam got hung. Possibly, the Kinglet noted the happy Shiites dancing around on the screen of his royal TV set immediately post hanging. Maybe Chitlin danced a jig or cut a rug in the Oval Orifice. Slow it down Chitlin, yer apt to bust a vessel. Huh-huh!

OK. Given all this evidence, I may be better off without Saddam, just like the rest of the world. Yet I do not feel more peaceful and prosperous absent Saddam. Nor do I feel less peaceful and prosperous. In fact, I can’t remember how I felt back before Saddam got hung, well enough to compare that time to how I feel now. Feeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeelings, La-de-da, la-de-dah.

The general peace and prosperity of US Americanos may be somehow related to cheap energy. Most of the cheap energy comes from oil. Some of the cheap energy also comes from the cheap labor commodity, man power. But I digress. Most of the cheap energy comes from oil. Yet we have used up all our cheap Americano energy, oil. So we must go abroad to get cheap oil, for to insure the continuance of Americano peace and prosperity. An example of the continuance of our peace and prosperity is driving off to work in an orderly fashion which is generally dependent upon cheap oil.

The surviving miserable Iraqis stay on land over plenty of cheap oil, maybe, lakes of it, maybe. Nobody knows how much cheap oil those miserable Iraqis stay over, but it may be lots. It may be enough cheap oil to keep US Americanos driving to work in an orderly fashion for many more years. So if that is true, that cheap oil may contribute to my personal peace and prosperity, some day.

Generalizing, much like the Kinglet might generalize, I may feel like that cheap oil is good for the peace and prosperity of the whole globe, in addition to me. Yet, the deceased Saddam kept me from getting all that oil. So now that he is dead, and I have a better chance of getting that oil for my car, I should feel more peaceful and prosperous, or at least more prosperous. Feeeeeeeeeelings, la-de-da, la-de-dah.

Rayetta's Butterflies - Zebra Heliconian (Heliconius charithonia)

Goodness! I finally got a documentation photo of this silly butterfly. Not much of a photo, but with this one, one does not need much of a photo for documentation. See?

Anyway, I took this in live view A with a 35mm macro, arms extended while sneaking up, in shade. It's a wonder the butterfly is recognizable. This butterfly is fairly big and fairly nervous, that's 2+ - 2+ on the Rayetta scales.

Ray's Thought for the Day - Living with Imperialism

So you think, or feel, that the Christian one god, or alternatively, the leap frogging technology shall provide. Actually, that's good. Since the one god or leap frogging technology shall obliterate all potential short falls of whatever, there is absolutely no reason not to drive a Humvee 100 miles every day if you want to do that. Do it! In fact, everybody that can do that, should. Go for it!

For example, I am increasing my personal energy consumption as much as possible. I'm going for it. Anything I can do to waste energy, I will do. I encourage everyone to do likewise. Let's see how far the miserable Iraqi oil will really go. Go for it!

Just because you can't afford to waste energy does not mean you can't waste energy. You can too! You just need to be creative. Think about all the ways you can steal energy. Then steal it. Everybody needs to do that! Steal energy, then waste it!

What we are disccussing here is a testable hypothesis. Many think or feel that US shall never run out of cheap energy. All righty then, that's testable. Let US test that. But instead of just a sizable minority wasting energy, everybody needs to waste energy. Everybody! Do your part! Test the hypothesis!!!!

Here's the fun part. Why should anyone care if some lard ass gluttons grand babies have cheap energy. What did those gluttonous grand babies do to deserve cheap energy? Screw them. Use their cheap energy up now.

Actually, using up all the cheap energy now, may be better for those humans that can walk at a good pace and do manual labor in the long run. Plus, of course, nature shall hugely benefit from the tanking of cheap energy for humans. Think about that conservationists. Cheap energy facilitates all the environmental wickedness. Lard asses flying around in airplanes everywhere, lard asses driving around in Hummers, everywhere, lard asses guzzling and swilling everywhere on a global scale. No cheap energy shall put an end to all that, maybe, or maybe not. But hey, it is a testable hypothesis.

So, in summation, everyone should waste as much energy as fast as possible. Test the hypothesis.

Ray's Thought for the Day - Living with Imperialism

Yesterday I was out and about early, driving off to where I werk in the sun. Sometimes, when I am driving about, I count cars. Yesterday morning, during my passage along Manchaca, I counted 73 vehicles headed west between Frate Barker and the Menchaca Middle School. None of those 73 vehicles were making huge amounts of progress.

Most anywhere in the Capital (sic) of the Republic of Tejas at that time of day, it is easy to espy tons of vehicles making slow yet intermittent progress. The operators of the vehicles are, just like me, headed off to werk. We all use up plenty of energy getting ourselves to werk. We like to idle at the lights, resting up prior to another hard day's werk.

Yet, all of US idling at the lights are the beneficiaries of energy trickle down, maybe. Where's the energy coming from, allowing US to idle at the lights? Easy that, miserable Iraq, is the source of all that energy, maybe.

Remember, the Kinglet or Chitlin and Associates proclaimed, long ago, that the miserable Iraqi oil would pay for the occupation of miserable Iraq. The occupation of miserable Iraq would allow US to steal the Iraqi oil. So I figure, some of that miserable Iraqi oil is now trickling down to US. We may be using miserable Iraqi oil up, idling at the lights, maybe.

Miserable Iraq has/had plenty of oil, maybe. Pre-occupation, miserable Iraq had the second most oil of any country, after Saudi Arabia, reportedly. Course the miserable Iraqis also had other stuff, reportedly, too.

Now that miserable Iraq, the colony, is no longer a country, what's happened to the miserable Iraqi oil? Who owns that oil? Where is that oil headed? Is Chitlin getting his cut of that oil? Is Chitlin trickling some of his cut my way? Mercy! Who knows?

Crumby’s Free Medical Advice

Last year about this time, or probably somewhat later, I had all kinds of troubles. Red banished me to the shed. I had to sleep on cow hides. I almost went deaf. I smelled nothing for months on end. My existence in that awful wilderness, totally bereft of most of my senses, was terrible. All I had to look forward to, day or night, was a bag of treats Lleu Llaw or Ray might sometimes bring to the shed. Yet if I was not actually handy at the shed, those twain would eat up all my treats themselves. So in addition to all the rest of my woes, I pert near starved. Eventually though, thanks to Rayetta, the CB Druidry let me back in the house.

After I finally got back in the house, Rayetta decided that I needed to have some of my symptoms treated with medicine. That’s how I wound up in the prescription line at the People’s Pharmacy. In such a situation as that, waiting in line, I enjoy providing various kinds of information to those in line or those generally within earshot, for example, information about my ears and nasal passages. So that’s what I was doing as the People’s Pharmacy personnel filled my prescription, to whit, providing information about my various serious sensory deprivations to all the interested parties.

I can provide all that interesting information to everyone because I am gifted with the gift of gab plus a booming voice that carries well. Pretty soon I found myself all set at the counter. I explained my problems to the elderly lady confronting me with my filled prescriptions. I have allergies, I explained. I am allergic to all manner of vegetable and animal detritus. Eventually my ears get stove up by the allergies so I can’t hear as the snot or boogers backs up into my various auditory passages. Neither may I smell. If the greatest passage of gas ever recorded, exploded right here in front of my nostrils, I would not smell a single molecule of that particular gaseous passage.

Oh you poor dear. Well here’s your prescriptions. Now, I should explain about this medication. This one goes in your nose. Shake the bottle gently. Then tuck your chin down on your chest. Squirt twice into each nostril. Be sure to inhale as you squirt. If you don’t inhale, most of this very expensive medicine will run out your nose. That won’t do you much good, will it! Take two of these pills everyday. Be sure to eat something before you take the pills. Do you eat dairy products?

Yes I do. I eat lots of dairy products. In fact, I was fixing to enjoy a delicious cup of cinnamon apple yogurt, preparatory to taking my first helping of these pills.

Hmmm. Well all those dairy products are making your allergies worse. Bacteria love to feed on all those dairy products. The bacteria invade your noggin when your noggin is weakened by the allergies. Those bacteria then thrive on all the dairy products you are eating up.

But I thought yogurt was good, fer me. Yogurt keeps my waste emission system operating at a high rate of efficiency with little or no rectal itching and burning.

Hmmm. That may be so, but those dairy products have just the opposite effect on your noggin.

They do! Well what should I eat then?

Vegetables.

About then an actual pharmacist appeared on the scene. The pharmacist put an end to our interesting conversation, alluding to the fact that the kindly old lady was not actually a pharmacist or nurse or health care professional. Also, some other customers wanted their prescriptions.

The old ladies advice had no immediate impact on my behavior. Yet I pondered on her advice. Gradually, I began to feel a reluctance regarding dairy products. I cut back on the yogurt and the rest of it, but every once in a while, I would find myself guzzling up a quarter gallon of vanilla ice cream with chocolate syrup.

Now I am pretty sure those dairy products were messing me up. So after my last ice cream frenzy, I swore all that off except for a little fat free milk on my grape nuts or oatmeal. Maybe that old lady had some good advice.

Ray's Thought for the Day - The Handsome Grasshopper

Syrbula admirabilis is the Latin name for the handsome grasshopper. If I was a grasshopper, perhaps I would be a rendition of the handsome grasshopper on those occasions, like this evening, when I can hear myself think. Where are the marching bands? Perhaps, lemming like, they have marched off into Town Lake, or, Lady Bird Tank, or whatever anyone wants to call that body of water that separates these parts into the north and the south of the same shiteree.

Whatever, we have handsome grasshoppers at the CB. They are, handsome as indicated.

Which of the many contradictions inherent in the US bullshit shall be the undoing contradiction? According to our Ovate staff, both Red, and my bosom companion, Crumby, there is too much competition among the many contradictions. So no specific contradiction may be identified as the the undoing contradiction. All those whopping contradictions may have an additive effect though, producing a prodigious meltdown much earlier than anyone in their right mind anticipated.

Here's some free advice from the Druidry to those we both know and like. Buy plenty of guns and ammo now, while those items are relatively cheap. Also, make sure you have storage capacity on your property for crops. Guns and crops shall allow you to persist in situ until the global situation deteriorates, further.

Maybe you should think about getting fitter. The Druid recommendation for fitness is a few hours of stoop labor daily. The stoop labor should include heavy lifting.

Yepper, imagine the upcoming. Energy shall be very expensive. Only the very rich shall have access to a plenitude of energy. Yet, even the very rich shall fear lest ostentatious displays of energy richness draws attention. That is because the non-rich shall be out to rip the rich off, with violence. Oh well! We get what we deserve. Or, as the monotheists might opine, We reap what we sow.

What about this idea for salvation? Be fruitful, and multiply. Ah, the ancient solution. Nope. That one will not suffice, anymore. That one is fraught with contradictions. Yet the fruit may be willing to make do with a lot less than the fruitful.

Ray's Rainfall Update - Good Goddess!

This morning the CB enjoyed a very nice shower. The resulting update is 44.13" + 2.10" = 46.23". Good Goddess!

At this very nonce, at least four marching bands are emitting noise pollution over at and in the general environs of the Burger Center. Here in the laboratory I get to enjoy the noise pollution and racket. Yep, the marching bands bang around over yonder every night of the week this time of year. So for three months out of the year, or a little more, every night of the week, I can scarcely hear myself think, even inside the CB. The AC running helps a little though, to drown out the drum banging racket and discordant horn blowing.

Someday, I expect to flip out during this time of year. Who knows what shall happen if I flip out? But if I do, flip out, remember. I flipped out as a direct result of noise pollution. My epitaph: Here lies Ray Pistrum, mass murderer, flipped out from noise pollution.

Cause and effect, is.

Ray's Thought for the Day - Dangerous Flies

Thank you Rayetta for acknowledging the arrival of your Sun God Trainee brother, me.

My love for the scarlet fly, that is as large as the head of the handsomest man in Ireland is well-known. Yepper, despite having two beautiful girl friends, my love for the scarlet fly persists, anyway, and in spite of the distractions those twain beautiful girl friends afford. Yet scarlet flies of that size are rare in these parts. So I must make do with any old flies.

Now the deal with any old flies, apart from the incredibly lovely, aromatic and melodius scarlet fly, is they are really hard to sight identify, especially when efforts towards sight identication are more like whatever efforts. That's what I am up to now, whatever efforts. I can though, sight identify, generically, those dangerous flies that the vulgar name robber flies. I have accumulated pictorial evidence of seven or eight different species of robber flies at the CB. Yet, I know not what any of them are,taxonomically wise. Whatever!

Robber flies have a reputation as killers. Maybe! One of the CB robber flies is definitely a honey bee killer. I have espied that one's murderous behavior often enough. But that one, the honey bee killer, is not the featured dipteran at this nonce. No. The featured dipteran presumptive killer is the one depicted adjacent. This one is the biggest robber fly espied at the CB to date, way bigger than the honey bee killer. It is scarily large, almost two inches from stem to stern, and it is aggressive towards the photographically forward.

But its most interesting feature is very hairy tibias. Those are remarkably hairy tibias. Those tibias are, in fact, wooly.

Mercy! I am overburdened with new yet interesting insects. I know! I shall engage my bosom companion to help out with all this insect taxonomy. Crumby shall lead me out of this wilderness of ignorance. Except for the grasshoppers, I need to keep the grasshoppers to myself.

Rayetta's Butterflies - The BDS Makes Forward Progress

Really! Yes. Good progress is being made. Yes. All the idiots are marching forward in time and space, not withstanding the peril of fatter babies. Yes. Yet, many seem to be marching forward in a circle, or ellipse, including all the idiots. Because, if you march forward long enough on this tiny globe, eventually you will circle up. Plus, whether you are making progress or not, or whether you circle up on not, you shall proscribe an ellipse. That's a physical fact, idiots.

Yes. I watched part of Idiocracy, too. So to humor Crumby and Ray, I pretend like I am interested in what passes for US culture. Duh!

Anyway, changing the subject, I have to say that even I, the Lovely Druidess Rayetta (LDR), was fairly amazed when I espied this interesting long-tailed skipper (Urbanus proteus) this very afternoon. My goodness gracious! See! Plant some frostweed in your yard.

Whoa! Ray, my brother, is on the way!

A Special Movie Review by Ray Pistrum

The movie, Idiocracy, is playing on the TV at this general nonce. I have not actually watched Idiocracy all the way through, but I did watch a chunk of it on two separate nights, mostly different chunks with a tiny bit of overlap. Watching the movie Idiocracy is like watching Cable News on the TV except that Idiocracy has two relatively smart characters whereas Cable News features all idiots.

This analogy got me to thinking. Not only are all the actors on Cable News, idiots, but all the people that get featured on the news, also seem to be idiots, and the reported actions of the featured idiots are also idiotic as is the news commentary on their idiotic actions. So, even though Idiocracy is set in the far future, I think 500 years ahead, maybe, it could just as well be real time.

In conclusion, I recommend that everyone watch the movie Idiocracy, then watch a random assortment of Cable News Programs. See if you agree that the twain are the same difference.

P.S. My cinnamon was delicious.

Rayetta's Butterflies - An Exciting Week

The CB butterfly documentation system (bds) has been getting a workout lately. Three butterflies new to the CB bds showed up very recently. I managed to document two of the three. Alas, the Zebra Heliconian (Heliconius charithonia) eluded me. But not the other twain.

I really would like to have more Texas kidneywood (Eysenhardtia texana). More than one, that is. The kidneywood flowers attract some interesting bugs, including these sickle-winged skippers (Eantis tamemund).




And the pater familia.










Then today this little skipper turned up. I almost ignored it, thinking, this one is another Pyrgus species, which of course, it is. Yet, this one, as I attempted to ignore it, never opened its wings while perched. That's odd, I thought. So I took its picture after all. Turns out it is a female tropical-checkered skipper (Pyrgus oileus.

Rayetta's Diurnal Lepidoptera

Here's a group shot featuring Horama in a more typical pose, tibias aft, a dusky-blue groundstreak and a Texan crescent in the background. If you like butterflies, get some frostweed. You won't be sorry. In fact, you won't be sorry even if no butterflies come to your frostweed. Sure as frost!

Aha! There goes Crumby, sneaking along the dusty hallway. Crumby, come here for the nonce.

All righty then, Lovely Druidess. Here I am at last.

Hmmm. Crumby, are you fixing to get the old camera fixed. I really do think you should get that old camera fixed. Then too, you could get a job to pay for getting the old camera fixed, since you are fixing to get a job anyway, so you can buy me a new lens for the new camera. Do you understand all that, Crumby?

Yepper, I understand all that perfectly.

Because Crumby, I was really irritated by the beeping incident this morning. Considering my busy schedule I need to get plenty of rest. Yet how am I to get plenty of rest with all the beeping. But if you got the camera fixed, Crumby, and also got a job, there would be no nocturnal beeping. Would there?

Probably not. Yet there is always something or other similar to beeping, whether one has a job or not. In fact, beeping like annoyances are more likely to occur at a job environment than anywhere else, possibly. Nevertheless I may have to get the old camera fixed. That old camera is utile in ways that may be hard to replace. So never fear Lovely Druidess, I am fixing to get a job so that I may pay for all these high priced yet semi-luxury what nots and what not repairs, maybe.

Good Crumby. The sooner the better. What job are you fixing to get this time?

Er. I am urgently awaiting a sign from the WG that shall then determine my next career move or option within this maze or pyramid scheme that some call the free enterprise system.

No you aren't Crumby! You better not wait for a sign from the WG! You better get out there and hustle. The WG helps those who get out there and hustle.

No, She doesn't.

She most certainly does, Crumby.

No, She doesn't. Hustle is totally optional.

All righty then, maybe She doesn't always reward hustle. But you need to get out there and hustle anyway. Just try it, Crumby. Try it for my sake, Crumby. Try it for your poor broken camera. You can do it Crumby, hustle.

All righty then, Rayetta. I shall hustle along right now, preparatory to a new career option requiring hustle. Soon, all shall wonder at the hustling ovate.

Hmmm. There goes Crumby. Hustle, Crumby!

Mr. Red Ears, Senior Ovate - An Open Letter to MoveOn.Org.

Druids despise imperialism. The imperialist occupation of miserable Iraq is an example of imperialism, so we despise the occupation. The occupation of miserable Iraq is the policy of rich, powerful, privileged, snotty, American fascists, utilizing US state power, and our tax money to further their global, short term, economic interests. Their interests are not Druid interests. Nor are their interests consistent with the long term well being, peace and prosperity of most of US.

Yet we are still talking about a Democratic Party so bought off, so compromised, so hep with imperialism that we can’t get them to do much about the current, unusually despicable, imperial episode.

OK. What’s the solution? Since the Democratic Party is supposedly our only hope, lets run “progressives” against the particularly egregious fascist running dog democratic congressmen who don’t want to set a time table for troop withdrawal. Ooooh! That will necessarily mean I will need to send money to a progressive campaign somewhere else, since amazingly, my Congressman probably favors a time table for withdrawal, maybe. How much am I willing to contribute toward unseating a Democratic Congressman, somewhere else besides my district, especially if Moveon thinks that progressive has a chance in the general election? Well, if it if a sure thing in the general election, which it never is, I might contribute ten bucks. Ten bucks is a reflection of my current income, plus the realization that no matter how much I might contribute, Michael Dell can contribute a billion dollars to the other side, no sweat.

A more likely scenario than electing crypto fascist democratic congressmen who will eventually vote for a troop withdrawal time table that might eventually put an end to US imperialism in miserable Iraq is; Most Americans may someday refuse to participate in imperialistic military actions against tiny defenseless countries. Of course, some Americans shall always be into imperialism, those kind can’t help their nature, but it typically takes lots of US to carry out the requisite imperialistic policies. Perhaps, some day, despite the economic incentives concurrent with imperialist adventure, not enough of US shall sign up. Yep. That is a more likely scenario than a time table for withdrawal.

Crumby is Shocked, Twice!!

There I was, my noggin nestled upon the Ample Bosoms.

Crumby! Wake up! Something's beeping in the kitchen. You need to wake up and find what's beeping.

The time was 5:20 AM. Slowly, my noggin achieved the minimal consciousness required for beep searches. I knew I was ready when I began to consider potential beep search equipment and attire.

Long I searched around for the beep. Up and down the dusty hallways I went, searching for the beep. Out I went into the stygian darkness of the west pasture, searching for the beep. That beep sort of sounded like a truck backing up a long way off.

After awhile I could not find the beep or hear the beep anymore. But I kept up the search anyway, because I would never get any more rest until I found the beep.

On a beep search, the beep searcher needs to search everywhere. So I began to search systematically as opposed to spasmodically. There I was, performing one of my ablutions in the Boy's Comfort Station. Where shall I search for the beep next?, I thought, multi-taskingly. I know. I shall search the laboratory next.

So that is I how I discovered the source of the beep, searching the laboratory. Yep. The formerly trusty C 5060 WZ was busily turning itself on and off and beeping cheerfully. I was shocked. Its ciruitry was as depicted below, yet I had left the On/Off switch in the On position. So, for some reason known only unto itself, the C 5060 WZ decided to turn itself on and off, plus beep. Why did it wait until the pre dawn hours to commence its beeping? Why did it decide to wake everybody up?

Here's what I think? I think it wants to go to California. California is where all these cameras like to go. So it was beeping to tell me, Crumby, I need to go to California for a little all expenses vacation paid for by you. If you don't send me to California, you shall get no rest.

Dad gum gizmos. Truly, I am afflicted with out of control gizmos.

Crumby is Shocked!

The trusty C 5060 WZ is broke. Since it won't work, because it is broke, I decided to pry off the Mode Dial. The Mode Dial, I figured, is what broke. Plus, I wanted to see what is under the Mode Dial.

Many have had experience with broke Mode Dials on this model. This model is fairly famous for a defective Mode Dial. So some of those many may be curious to know what is under the Mode Dial.

The Mode Dial was fairly easy to pry off. Apparently all that holds it on its four little plastic pegs that fit into four little holes on the top of the On/Off switch.

Sandwiched in between those twain is a little circuit board. The first picture shows the circuit board part that abuts the Mode Dial.







The second picture shows the circuit board accordioned out. A tab on the circuit board secures it to the camera innards.

No. I didn't get shocked by an electric current, but I was shocked that this gizmo ever worked. Remember, the Mode Dial and the On/Off switch move independently. I beleive the circuit board must remain stationary. Then, somehow, this circuitry, in responding to the mechanical motion of the dials, tells the camera what mode to go into, and when to turn itself on and off.

See all that grit in the second picture. I bet there's a lot of grit down in the camera too. No wonder this camera, even when it was trusty, sometimes turned itself off.

Now I must ask myself. Is this gizmo worth getting fixed? How long will the new plastic knobs and wimpy circuitry hold up, synchronously? Mercy!

Ray's Rainfall Update - Good Progress

At this nonce, the gauge has indeed recorded in excess of 44". The details are, 43.98" + 0.15" = 44.13". The day is 257, the year is DY 1. The season is Beelzebubberriffic. Interestingly, this Beelzebubberriffic has been tolerable, temperature wise, in these parts for a welcome change. The great oppressive heat that generally characterizes this longest of seasons in these parts has moved off elswhere. Many suffer in the sweltering heat elsewhere, but the CB has been spared all that. Good!

Course we still have a ways to go before we get clear of Beelzebubberriffic. Yet every day, we tilt further away from Ogma's fiery yet fickle countenance. So maybe we shall ease on into Hope Remains, relatively sweat free.

Praise the Goddess, even those lacking irrigation, prosper.

Yes, prospering in association with good progress is an all righty then scenario. Yet, with all that I was much wearied by the pace of the good progress and prosperity, yesterday. Perhaps, my weariness may be accounted for by all the free loaders riding around on me, taking advantage of my good progress, but weighing me down. There I was, making good progress, busy, forging ahead, when I felt an unusual heaviness on my right ear. The heaviness on my right ear may have been directing my good progress off center, to the right. So I reached up to see what was on my ear. Turn's out a mantid was riding on my ear.

Once I had that particular mantid in hand, I asked it, Are you crazy? You must be crazy to ride around on my ear like that. Are you crazy?

So the mantid said, No, I'm not crazy. You were headed my way, making good progress, so I hitched a ride. What's wrong with that?

Yeah but, you were unbalancing me, pulling me off line.

Sorry about that. Please don't kill me. Please! See, I am praying to the Goddess that you will show mercy on a poor traveler, striving to make good progress, much like yourself.

All righty then. I shall put you off here. But you have to promise not to get on my ears anymore.

All righty then.

My adventure with the mantid has made me more curious than ever about those interesting creatures. Now I shall have to study up on them.

Ray's Rainfall Update

The new rainfall total for DY 1, Day 256 is: 43.48" + 0.50" = 43.98". Surely, we shall pass the coveted 44" mark, anon. Goddess All Righty!

The trusty C 5060 that started acting up the day we got back from Hawaii is no longer trusty. Instead, it is officially broke. Sadly, we are a one camera Cow Barn again. Crumby may have some commentary on the demise of the C 5060 later. All I have to say is that digital cameras, considering what they cost, sure are flimsy little doo-dads. No doubt, my bosom companion shall expound some more on the topic, flimsy digital cameras, with reference to the only two digital cameras he has associated with.

Now I am going to the Ample Bosoms. I am worn out. Plus I face unusual, that is, non-routine perils tomorrow. Watch out for the Wicker Man!

Ray's Rainfall Update Plus Chorts

Historically, I have never favored short pants that some call shorts or chorts. However, times change. These days, I have taken to wearing shorts for the increased air circulation they afford. Yepper, inner thigh chafing events are such a threat to my way of life that now I wear shorts.

Besides the air circulation shorts provide, versus the comparitively poor air circulation of regular pants, the shorts also take up less room in the clothes washer than regular pants. Also, since there is less of them, they don't get as dirty as pants, so they require less soap and water. So that makes shorts relatively eco-friendly. Course my relatively eco-friendly shorts are unlikely to counter balance the upcoming death of nature, but they might delay it a nonce or two.

The only other shorts virtue I can think of is, shorts don't get holes in the knee region. My pants always get holes in the knees, first. Then, once the holes appear, I get annoyed with those pants.

Other than all that, shorts have no other virtues. Other than all that, shorts are miserable, allowing, as they do, free access to the legs for every sticker, prickle, spine, fang, mandible and stinger. Even so, these minor hazards are preferable to an inner thigh chafing event.

All righty then. I have been fretting about shorts for some time and I needed to get my inner feelings about shorts out in the open. Now I feel lots better.

The rain has fallen again, twice, since the last update. Yet I have only checked the gauge after the foremost of those rainfall events. That means I shall need to do another update tomorrow. OK. The new total is 43.08" + 0.40" = 43.48". Praise the Goddess!

Rayetta's Butterflies - The Big Yellow Ones

We are almost to the point on this year's ellipse that I began the CB butterfly documentation during the last ellipse. But now, I can sight identify lots of the CB butterflies, as opposed to maybe one I could sight identify by myself at this approximate point on last year's ellipse. Sight identification makes documentation lots easier.

This week I have been practicing sight identification on the big yellow butterflies. These are the cloudless sulphur (Phoebis sennae) and the large orange sulphur (Phoebis agarithe). I believe that last fall, the season we now call, Hope Remains, I managed to get documentation photographs of these two species, barely, maybe. These big yellow ones are nervous and fidgety.


Of the two, the cloudless sulphur is more common at the CB than the large orange sulphur. Yet it is easy to pick out the large orange sulphurs, because they are more orangy yellow than the cloudless sulphurs which are lemony yellow. At least I think so, although, exceptions may occur. I just have not seen those exceptions yet.

In addition to these large dashing butterflies, we continue inundated with skippers. The clouded skipper (Lerema accius) has replaced the bordered patch as our most common butterfly. Also today, a new documentation record occurred for a skipper. The documentation appears to indicate a Celia's roadside skipper (Amblyscirtes celia), but it may be a dotted or even a bronze roadside skipper. I need to study the photographic evidence some more. Whichever, all those are new to the CB. Hmmm. I wonder why we do not have lots of roadside skippers. Seems like we ought to have three fifties of them.

At this nonce, the floristic elements that are attracting the butterflies are Ipoemoea trichocarpa, Ruellia drummondiana, Anisocanthus wrightii, and Verbesina virginica. The Ipoemoea trichocarpa is super abundant this year and many butterflies really like it. The Ruellia fetches mostly skippers. Most of the big butterflies, (swallowtails, sulphurs and fritillaries) really like the Anisocanthus.

That Ipoemoea is another good example of a very common weed being a great butterfly plants. Ditto the Verbesina.

Another note on butterfly ecology, butterflies like big bunches of flowers of the same kind packed close together. That's sensible, right. The closer the same kind of flowers are packed together, the less work and thinking the average butterfly must put into foraging. That also may be why butterfly densities at plant nurseries seem relatively high. Course the butterflies have to like the plants in the first place for all this theorizing to pan out.

Another common, fixing to get abundant, flowering floristic element at the CB for the nonce, is Agalinis heterophylla. Generally, speaking, the butterflies ignore this generally very common scroph. But that may change. We shall see.

Ray's Rainfall Update Plus the Demon Mammon Gives the Conservative Intelligentsia a Pep Talk

All righty. The gauge is up and running again, normally. Last night it collected about 0.10". So the new, all important total for DY 1, Day 252 is, 43.08". Yepper. The CB has surpassed 43". Praise the Goddess!
_____

Yet elsewhere, many are afflicted by this or that. For example, if the late Senator Goldwater is your personal savior, master, savant of choice, or daddy rabbit, you may be thinking, uh, I am lost in this wilderness of sin.

Well you are, all righty then, lost. But remember, you get what you deserve. Besides, those are just crocodile tears on your cheeks. Crocodile tears won’t hurt you.

Let’s see now. What are some potential introductions to a story relating the long term adventures of a young, free, American boy, one of US, setting out to preserve his storage capacity rights and reduce his taxes?

Er. How about this one? I just wanted to be free to enjoy my personal storage capacity and lower my taxes, but I wound up sucking ****s in the airport comfort station. Boo-hoo-hoo.

Or. There I was, safe in my personal storage area comfort station. Senator Goldwater stared down at me from the poster on the wall. Did Senator Goldwater enjoy watching me masturbate? I could never figure that out. Sometimes from his expression it seemed like he liked me OK. But then sometimes, I felt like he hated me. Boo-hoo-hoo.

But never mind all that. Here’s the Demon Mammon. The Demon Mammon shall buck you conservative intellectuals up.
_____

The Demon Mammon Bucks Up the Conservative Intelligentsia with a Pep Talk

Yepper. Here is the conservative think tank intellegentsia undergoing a spot of reflection. Oh, the spilt milk. Oh, the crocodile tears. Oh, we need to get back to our original focus on smaller government, lower taxes and protecting our personal storage rights. Huh-huh-huh-huh!

That’s me, the Demon Mammon chuckling. I invented crocodile tears. Yes, I, the Demon Mammon appreciate the crocodile tears of my conservative think tank intellectuals for what they are, crocodile tears. Yet I must now remonstrate gently with you, my chubby think tank intellectuals.

Stop that whining you miserable chubby intellectuals. Remember what it was like, back then, before Nuncle Ronnie. Nobody liked you. Everyone laughed at you. But then, thanks to me, the Demon Mammon, you began to realize that many might appreciate you more if you were part of a coalition.

Yepper. In the post Nuncle Ronnie world, everybody that appreciates small government, lower taxes, and sacrosanct plus secret, personal storage is part of a grand coalition that includes even conservative intellectuals. Never mind that in the post Nuncle Ronnie world, government is super bigger, taxes are larruping and personal storage rights are, well, more exclusive than ever.

You conservative intellectuals belong these days to that coalition. Everyone in the coalition likes you, appreciates you, lets you blather on the important radio, newspaper and TV venues. Plus you get to suck, uh, I mean you get to actually associate with all your coalition partners and have social intercourse with them sometimes. Heck! Lots of those coalition partners are real men, captains of industry and progress, mostly white guys, just like you. Those coalition partners make things happen. Sometimes, though, they need a little help from the government. Like maybe they need a little grant, loan or contract from the government. Mostly they need stuff from the government that will make US safer. So it is only right that those particular coalition partners, the real go getter white guys, should also be the same difference as the government. That way, since those particular go getters are also the government, they have cut out the wasteful middle men plus all the wasteful red tape that sissy middle men and ladies and other assorted children and weaklings thrive on. Think of all the taxes that will save US in the long run, maybe.

Unless the terrorism, or the virtual terrorism, gets really bad, then, of course, the taxes may go up a smidgin. The go getters may need a few more tax dollars to protect US, and the government may grow just a smidgin, just to protect US.

Who else is in the coalition? Oops. None other than the family values bunch. They are in the coalition because they are fraidy cats. Boo! Huh-huh-huh!

Look at those miserable cowards. How they snivel. How they wring their hands. Oooh! We’re scared. We need somebody big and strong to protect our way of life and our lifestyle.

Yes, they are the weak link in the coalition. But they vote. But they donate money. But they pay taxes. So my conservative intellectuals, you need to be nice to them. Tell them they are good and kindly. Tell them their way of life is the best. Tell them they built this country. Tell them, Jesus is their pal.

Now, chubby intellectuals, let’s brainstorm all the stuff the family values bunch is scared of. Then once we get a nice list, we shall eliminate all the useless items and keep the useful, most scary items. OK. Everyone ready to shout out scary items. Begin!

Millions of illegal aliens swarming all over US. Criminals. Queers. Muslims. Abortion. Negroes. Beggars. Retards. Mexicans. Getting caught with dope. Getting caught with porn. Faggots. Spear Chuckers. Welfare. Taxes. Public Schools. Muslim Terrorists. Plagues. Snakes. Demons. Foreign terrorists. Burglars. Credit checks. Queers, I mean gays. Homosexuals. Homeless sex offenders. Homeless beggars. Sexually transmitted diseases. Queer relatives. Relative queers. Audits. Same sex lifestyles. Alien queers. Muslim fascists. Fascist Muslims. Red tape. Communists. Bicycles. Wild animals. Internet porn. Getting caught cheating on my taxes. Lazy Negroes. Insects. Ticks. Spiders. Switch blades. Razors. Trespassers. Roller skates that can be adjusted to fit any shoe. Mass murderers. Hugo Chavez. Castro. Other Mexicans. Rats. Vermin. Flag burning. Salad. Radical Islam. Prophylactics. Gas lines. Pedestrians. Being queer. Getting caught with a whore, I mean, prostitution. Gangs. Going to prison. Getting caught doing insider trading. Getting caught in general. Having to apologize for getting caught, on TV. My Congressman is a pervert. Mushroom clouds. Terrorist school bus drivers. Bugs. Godless atheism. Negroes. Islamic fascists. Illegal alien terrorists teaching evolution in the public schools. Diseases. Germs. Tall grass and weeds. Professional perverts, like what if your lawyer is also a pervert. Pervert trial lawyers. A pervert trial lawyer taking advantage of a first time participant in a class action lawsuit who may also be a secret pervert. Perverts in general. Dope smugglers. White slavery. Chiggers. Negroes. Mad Cow Disease. My preacher is a pervert. My wife is a pervert. Junior may be a pervert. Killer Negro perverts. Sexual predators. Communicable diseases. Marriage between humans and other species. Like maybe this lady decides to marry her dog, Lassie. So then Lassie could collect social security or maybe visit this lady in the hospital. Or maybe this lady could do some kind of welfare fraud because she was married to her dog.

All righty then. It looks like we are starting to see a little redundancy in the brainstorming session. So let’s narrow all these fears down to a few useful really scary ones. We can use the really scary ones to keep the family values bunch happy. OK. Let me just cross out this one and those, and these over here and lump a few of these together and we are left with:

Radical Islamic terrorist fascists. Mushroom clouds. Getting caught. Perverts. Negroes, I mean, Crime. Nature. Diseases.

There now.

OK. Your assignment, my chubby conservative intellectuals, is to work all these remaining items into a simple talking point the family values bunch can understand well enough to repeat.

Do you understand all that? Sigh. I thought not. Let me give you an example.

It would be a crime of the blackest sort, if US allowed radical Islamic terrorists to pervert the once clean air over US with mushroom clouds. It would be a crime against human nature, if we, the good and kindly folks of the US got caught with our pants down. Common sense indicates that such a cowardly terrorist act, if we got caught simultaneously with our pants down, might well destroy our lifestyle and our way of life. Only the diseased mind of a pervert, or perhaps, the liberal ally of a diseased pervert, would allow something like that to happen. Yet all that will never happen if we, the good and kindly nice fellows are possibly responsible as deciders. We will do the hard work to make the homeland safer and securer. Praise Jesus.

OK. That gives you conservative intellectuals something to go on. Get to work. And don’t think you get Monday off, either. I want your talking points on my desk, Monday morning, 11 AM sharp. No time and a half, either.