Uncle John’s Log & Co.

It’s interesting how one simple act—in this case, my appointment to the Bicycle Commission—can trigger a chain reaction of unexpected developments. Less than a year ago I wouldn’t have expected to become so interested in subjects like the simultaneous crises of aging baby boomers and obese children, transportation enhancement issues, and regional planning, and now I’ve just discovered the sober but potentially controversial analysis of Robert Bruegmann. Does any of this have to do with bicycles?

It most certainly does…

• The issue of a nuclear Iran fully ignites as a major global crisis and precipitates some type of military action before the end of the year.

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• Despite the conventional wisdom that Academy members won’t choose two portrayals of dead musicians back to back, long-shot Joaquin Phoenix takes home an Oscar for his Johnny Cash performance when Hoffman, Strathairn, and Ledger split the “progressive” votes.

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• Voters, upset with a blatantly hypocritical broadening of investigations into the governor’s partisan supporters, cast ballots to further reduce the number of Democrats in the Kentucky House.

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• Aggragetors and reading lists for RSS feeds will hit a tipping point of mass appeal in the same way that Web logs did in 2005, making blogs an even more popular “spectator sport.”

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• Senator Clinton enters the autumn with such an insurmountable lead in funding over Kerry, Edwards, and her other opponents that the media acknowledges her inevitable nomination and shifts its attention to who might successfully challenge her on the Republican side, leaving the door open for Bayh to exploit her “frontrunner” status and surge in polls by the end of the year.

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• Critics shower Tom Cruise with praise for finally “getting it right” with his decision to put the fate of his M:I franchise in the hands of “Alias” creator J.J. Abrams, and the partners follow their summer box-office smash with an announcement that Abrams will scrap “Alias” to develop a new “Mission: Impossible” television series starring Ving Rhames as the team leader, with “the voice” of the mission controller to be Cruise himself.

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Have you recently looked at a five-year gold chart?

For those of us who’ve been along for the ride, the question is whether to take some profits now or stay the course. And if you do sell, whether to park or buy something else. And if you do buy, what kind of investment will go up rather than down.

Are we in the midst of a long bull market or the tail end of a trend?

Everybody knows the answer. Nobody knows the answer.

One of the world’s most dangerous rebels has been blown up in a remote tribal region of Waziristan—Hamza Rabia, the No. 5 or No. 3 senior man (depending on who’s doing the ranking) in the al-Qaida terrorist network. Unidentified sources report that the explosion was the result of an air attack from multiple robot craft.

The Terminators are on the move. Thank goodness they’re under the control of the good guys. Let’s all pray it stays that way.

Get on with it, hang him, and build an honorable nation.

This is the day my friend Basil was forced to resign his position in state government by Governor Fletcher, along with the other eight individuals indicted by Stumbo’s grand jury. From the beginning, the Governor made the steadfast claim that, although mistakes were made, there was no criminal wrongdoing, and eventually pardoned all nine. Today he modified his stance to admit they violated hiring laws—unintentionally—and should leave his administration so that the controversy can be laid to rest (which his opponents will never permit, now that there’s political blood in the water).

The fact of matter is that too many Republicans went to Frankfort thinking they could play by the same rules that their rivals had written. All the Fletcher appointees needed to have done to level the field for state employment was to have abolished an illegal prerequisite that was in place for decades—Democrat Party influence. Their mantra must be (and should always have been): “Fill the political appointments with qualified Republicans, but hire in a party-blind manner the best people for the merit jobs and commence building the most competent state workforce in Kentucky history.”

Back home at the Town House, and it doesn’t take long before the studio engines are revving: deadline for a horse industry magazine ad, and Kentucky Trust jump-starts more Website refinements.

In addition, the Salvation Army Captain and I will be having a working lunch tomorrow to map out a local community relations plan for the hurricane disaster response. There are a lot of developments that the public needs to know right away. We’ll be setting up a “disaster response center” for the collection of emergency goods that the Captain will take with him when he leaves for the damage zone. The United Way wants to partner with the Army to organize a team of local volunteers to provide help under his leadership. He hopes to act as an on-site source of information for the media back here at home. The Kentucky-Tennessee Division, like others in the Southern Territory, will be opening up our summer camp for evacuee relocation. And there’s even more to communicate.

Timing is tricky, because Dana and I have a lot to accomplish before Friday, so we can take the weekend for our 23rd anniversary observation, and then after that I’ll be leaving for Lake Huron and my annual salmon harvest.

The Hornsbys of Metairie are heading our way via Baton Rouge. They left Sunday morning before Katrina hit the Gulf coast. Timsby’s dad is reportedly stranded at a VA hospital where he works, and there’s no word yet about his circumstances or whether the facility is being evacuated. The family is traveling light.

We’ll connect with them in Ohio near the site of the Renaissance Festival.

Headley Lice (recently promoted by Her Majesty to the rank of Admiral) cannot get himself in the mood for a playful celebration.

— Month of August workout totals: Swim-7; Bike-5; Run-5; Lift-0; Yoga-0.

— In a display of auto-beneficence triggered by serendipity, I endorsed a mildly convoluted but brilliant scheme put forward by my pal Ernst for a double upgrade of our two-wheelers—he strips his bike of its components, replacing them with state-of-the-art, gizmotic sweetness and recycles the perfectly wonderful parts to my Peugeot. I end up with a virtually “new” bicycle—an entirely different shifter/gear-ratio setup that transforms a 12-speed to a more modern 16-speed, with superior rims, performance seat, new brakes, bars, and stem, plus a lighter alloy crank assembly. The deal was sealed when he uncovered a roll of rare, hot-yellow Benotto bar tape. My 29-mile, duel-knob ride test Wednesday night was dominated by even more joyous delight than I was expecting. The single item that didn’t fit was the rear brake caliper, and so the only former elements that remained, other than my classic steel frame, were the tires, front derailleur, rear brakes, and seat post. Thus, a small, self-centered part of my life as a fitness geek is ripe with satisfaction.

— There are a lot of Americans who are no fans of the Second Amendment, and I wish I had a nickel for every time I’ve heard or read the question, “Why do people need that kind of a weapon to go hunting?” Too bad it could not remain an abstract quarrel, so we need not acknowledge the reality of a grim but eloquent visual checkmate—the wire photo of a New Orleans business owner standing his ground, holding a pump-action Mossberg with pistol grip.

— I’m still trying to process the recent knowledge that Marty will leave soon to live hundreds of miles away. Our relationship since he came to Kentucky has been good for both of us. I understand why it’s happening, but the realization hasn’t penetrated into my emotional body.

— Bruce is anticipating going home as soon as this weekend. This time it looks fairly solid, but there have been false starts before, so I’ll believe it when it actually happens. I hope it does soon, my son…

V & S

  †   †   †

Hell on Earth…

What will be left when the Hornsby Family returns?

 

•   Another portion of America is singled out by Mother Nature for a round of devastation and paralyzing emotional trauma.

•   I observe in a mirror the image of my departed brother-in-law, sneering back at me as a pirate captain, his frame bristling with weapons.

•   The pet cat of a friend is stomped to death by an angry husband, plunging her life into a miserable chain-reaction of self-rescuing actions.

•   My Governor declares his daring intent to cast a wide safety net of pardons to spike the ambitions of the unsavory political boss currently abusing the office of Attorney General.

•   Jeffrey and Lea’s dachshund “Odie” is slaughtered by a coyote in the woods behind their home at The Blue Bank Farm.

•   Paula, the state employee who coordinates the work of the KBBC and assists those of us who sit on the panel, took indefinite sick leave with the news that she has pancreatic cancer spreading to her liver.

•   My friend and favorite neighbor Danny is preparing to move his family to Kansas.

•   Bruce’s condition yo-yos from lucid progress to feverish setback, almost on a daily basis.

•   We learn that Marty will be leaving Kentucky to live with his mother and her boyfriend in South Carolina.

Congressman Chandler spoke to our Rotary Club at lunch today. He pounded on the subject of an emerging China as a threat to the U.S. economy. The reporter from the local newspaper was sitting next to me. During the Q&A she asked, “Would you support a war with China over Taiwan?” I don’t know why, but I like that kind of spunk. Her name is Liz, and she has a blog. I just checked it out for the first time. Sometimes it seems like everyone has a blog, but that’s far from true. There are still some very significant people who do not yet have blogs. (Use the stuff, Petey!)

I can’t get “Gates of Fire” off the front of my mind today. It’s at times like this I could use a basic intellect boost (remember that Krell device in “Forbidden Planet?”) and coalesce all my fragments of thought to produce a single, coherent insight. To be more specific, I keep thinking of Thermopylae, and what it meant, and, beyond that, the place it holds in our history. How many times has it inspired those who faced impossible odds, or given meaning to sacrifices that would serve no immediate purpose other than to lay the groundwork for a subsequent overcoming, or compelled strivers to place the welfare of the many over life itself? And if so, it must be true that knowledge of the heroic feat was present in the mental quiver of an educated person. Is that still true today? If you asked a hundred Americans old enough to vote, how many of them would recognize the word “Thermopylae?” And of those, how many would know what it meant? And of those, how many could explain its significance to Western Civilization? And of those, how many would believe it was a positive contribution to the world that followed? And who among them might speculate with me about how the event had perhaps influenced Wallace and his Scots? Washington and his Rabble? Houston and his Texicans? Churchill, Roosevelt, and Eisenhower and the ordinary men they motivated to storm death’s sanctum on both sides of the planet?

   —may contain spoilers—

I wish I had the capacity to take Pressfield’s premise—that Leonidas hand-picked the 300 Spartan warriors, not for their own character, but for the character of their wives, mothers, and daughters, knowing that the ultimate victory would come to pass when the embattled Greeks took heart from the conduct of the Spartan people, which would in turn be based on the Spartans observing the conduct of the women who would survive their slain husbands, sons, and fathers—and apply it to the national dilemma we face today. I wish I had the ability to write cogently about our collective response to the public posture of American women such as Cindy Sheehan, Evelyn Husband, and Shannon Spann, and what it may indicate for our future as a society, and the longevity of the institutions we inherit from the ancients—from that time when the very survival of human freedom as a concept balanced on a spear point called Thermopylae.

There now. If you managed to wade all the way through that swirling, whiny muck above to reach this point, dear reader, all I can do is kiss you lightly on the forehead and say, “Thank you. Now, please go hose yourself off…”

Josh was quiet, but clearly happy to be among family. I can’t remember the last time there were so many of us gathered together. The “Houseboat Trilogy” was a hit, and Seth deserved to get most of the glory.

Welcome back, Josh. Have a good time before you must return. Forgive us for the fake video violence that we create for amusement. We know that you’re a professional, and that
the dangers you face are very real. We can play at fighting only because you volunteer to go to work behind a machine gun.

Walie wanted to play with toys all day. APS replaced our crashed hard drive with an even bigger one. I had a 150-yard PR time in the pool during my midday workout. The American economy continues to grow. I solved the cascading style sheets problem in the preliminary Website for Kentucky Trust Company. Dana had an informative talk with a local man who recovered from a case of pancreatitis worse than what Bruce has. Seth helped me put the finishing touches on “Pirate Revenge,” the final segment of my goofy “Houseboat Trilogy” (originated as a teen not much older than he). Discovery landed safely and the astronauts held a press conference. Josh had another night’s sleep at the Blue Bank Farm.

After yesterday’s race, I had lunch with David in Lexington and hit the gun show, where we bought supplies for our deer ammo project and I bought a soft case for my Marlin. Dana and I made a connection, drove to Indy, and visited with Bruce until late. Today he mostly wanted to sleep, so we headed to Ohio. I read the conclusion of “The Sparrow” aloud, and the two of us discussed its themes for quite a while. When we got to Sydne’s marriage celebration in Bellbrook, it was a surprise to see her in a wheelchair She’d almost lost a big toe in a freak picture-hanging accident (that’s our Sydne!).

At the reception I struck up a conversation with a local couple, and found it hard to believe that they were of the World War II generation, since they looked younger than that. After about an hour, Ruth got Barney to open up a bit and I found out that he was personally decorated by President Truman. He’d been wounded three times—once by a sniper—and had successfully stormed a Japanese pillbox with a flame-thrower before being captured and sent to a POW camp on the Malay Peninsula, where he’d been tortured for information. I could see that his fingers were permanently disabled. I felt honored to have met him and he just averted his eyes when I expressed my appreciation for his service and the sacrifices he made. His attitude was made clear when he reminded me that he’d lost a lot of buddies and then told me this story: When he met Truman he said, “Mr. President, I don’t think I deserve this.” According to Barney, Truman replied. “I don’t give a damn what you think. Your commander says you deserve this.”

Before we left, Ruth said to me, “He’s been through a lot.”

Bruce… Barney… What have I ever been through?

Earlier in the day I’d read in the newspaper about a staff sergeant from Indiana who’d been injured in Iraq during the invasion and was now on his second tour, having just single-handedly taken out a suicide car bomber before his convoy could be harmed. He was recovering from shrapnel wounds to his face and head.

My Lord… may this nation continue to deserve such men.

(Josh is due to arrive home today for his two-week leave.)

Live helmet-cam coverage on C-SPAN 2 of a complex, unrehearsed spacewalk by two astronauts, requiring the coordinated efforts of the Shuttle Discovery crew, the International Space Station crew, and Johnson Space Center controllers—with one spacewalker pausing at the end to visually scan the surface of California until he was able to detect his hometown. (”My Goodness, what a long road from there to here…”) For a lifetime space-program geek, it just doesn’t get much better than that!

The Attorney General of my state is revealing himself as just another clever scoundrel, in keeping with the worst traditions of Kentucky politics. Will the Democrats of this Commonwealth transcend partisanship long enough to rebuke his self-serving manipulation of the legal process? I refuse to believe that my friend Basil left a distinguished (and comfortable) retirement in Danville so he could idiotically commit misdemeanors in Frankfort on behalf of the Governor. Yes, it’s a travesty, indeed… inflicting political damage through multiple indictments as if it’s a matter of scoring hit points in a role-playing game. If there’s actual evidence of wrongdoing, let the proper authority look into it—one that’s free from such a blatant conflict of interest.

Tonight I drafted shamelessly off anybody whose wheel I could suck behind, but they still made me suffer on our 34-miler to Forkland and back. Multiple “knobs” make for tough cycling, but it’s got to be a mere fraction of a percent difficulty compared to racing in the Alps or Pyrénées.

I’ll gladly leave such feats to the gods…

Yes, Tiger is back on top, but the King of Awesome never fell from supremacy in the first place.

Why all this ink about whether or not the impossible Nicklaus feat can be matched or bested? Tiger is young. Lance was actually doing the impossible, past the recognized prime of cyclists, as all those keyboards were tippity-tapping away!

The summer of 2005 will shine with blinding intensity in the history of sport not because Woods won a few more majors or because the beloved Golden Bear walked proudly off the stage, but because Armstrong did the inconceivable and retired at the pinnacle of athletic achievement. This past weekend proved it, and the sports editors are fools if they don’t begin to take notice and more adequately document a true legend in formation, as they did when Jack was untouchable, and as they surely will do when the full potential of Tiger’s career is manifest.

— If we need another grim reminder that the world is at war, this story makes it clear that we’re all potentially in harm’s way—especially when we leave the homeland—as Joan, Aunt Carol, and Uncle Bob are planning to do this weekend. Manolo, get out your Blessing Engine. Meanwhile, the rest of us will pray—hard.

— Speaking of Bobs, I’ve known a few in my life. A Bob is never wishy-washy, but invariably an exceptional guy (occasionally you’ll encounter one who is distinctly uncool), and always makes an impression. This Bob is one of my favorites, and so I’ll do my part to extend his 15 minutes of fame.

— At Aunt Alma’s funeral I talked to cousin Don (accomplished musician and former CEO of Rolodex), and, without any prompting from me, he declared Centre professor Vince DiMartino as the greatest living Jazz trumpet virtuoso. Hmm… At the Brass Band Festival, Vince gave the honor to his friend Allen Vizzutti. Anyway, here’s a montage I made from shots I took during the Festival, so you can see the world’s finest trumpet player in action, whichever one he is!

V & S

The latest news is that my nephew has lost another fellow Guardsman. There is no doubt that the mission of the 623rd in Iraq is extremely dangerous. Nothing yet about whether Josh was assigned to the convoy that day.

Keeping the tracker handy while following the live text at velonews.com was a super-cool way to experience Stage 2 of the Tour.

Astonishing! I’m living in the future!

Wait a second. This is like listening to radio. In the 1930s. Slower. With fewer details.

Hmmm…

A must-have “peep-hole” for the desktop.

Whatever happens—the thrill of monumental victory or the agony of shattering defeat—this shall be made manifest at a level one rarely gets to observe in the world of sport. (Secretariat in the Belmont, Ali in Zaire, Gardner topples Karelin from Olympus, Donald James Larsen on the 8th of October, Edwin Moses unapproachable, Gretzky unstoppable, Spitz in the water, Nicklaus in the zone, Arnold dominant, Jordan supreme…)

How many things are actually very, very good?

This is going to be very very good.

— Month of June workout totals: Swim-8; Bike-1; Run-0; Lift-0; Yoga-1.

— If the state of my exercise program gets any more pathetic, I’ll be counting the times I cut the lawn with Uncle Art’s old mechanical push mower.

— Lots of people reach a point in their career and then say, “I think I’ll retire.” A few say, “I think I’ll do something really amazing and then retire.” One man says, “I think I’ll eat all the paintings in the Louvre, bed every woman in Paris, kick over the Eiffel Tower, and then retire.”

— And, by the way, if you think there’s too much rancor in the nation’s capital, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet.

V & S

Politics can often be an ugly thing, whether it’s business, entertainment, or on a university campus (which is almost as nasty as Hollywood). With government, it tends to be rather public, of course, because media types tend to think that elected officials are the only politicians. There’s a festering brew of ugliness seeping out of Frankfort now, as the Kentucky capital sheds decades of one-party rule. It’s hitting close to home, because we’ve learned that one of our friends and former clients—he left retirement to help the new governor clean up the mess in state government—is being pulled personally into a growing controversy that isn’t anywhere close to dying down. It’s already damn ugly—especially if you don’t like the appearance of maggots hard at work on something rotten—and it’s going to get worse before it gets better…

Dana and I took time tonight to have a nice dinner at Two Roads Cafe in Danville, sharing a Cabernet from my favorite Washington State winery, Chateau Ste Michelle. I remember first learning of it during a riverboat cruise we attended for the wedding rehearsal dinner of a former Centre intern. It wasn’t long after September 11 and I was wearing my flag lapel pin, which attracted a New Yorker who was present. He expressed his thanks to me for the show of support (yes, he took my gesture as personally significant to him—you have to recall the mood of the times), and we enjoyed each other’s friendship as he kindly introduced me to a family of reliably fine wines before we said our farewells later that evening.

When I think back to experiences like that, I wish that it was easier for us humans to discern the core essentials of life at times other than peril, tragedy, or loss…

— Richard Benedetto’s recent column rests on that blurry line between news reporting and opinion, but it’s nevertheless a thought-provoking read. It’s title, “Turning old enemies into friends has long benefited the U.S.” makes me think about the other side of the coin: “Turning old enemies’ enemies into new enemies has long been the role of the U.S.” That’s the part of this issue most would agree on. And with the way things are, that’s probably the only part.

— The enormous virus/spam wave that’s going on right now is a huge problem. That’s why I get such a kick out of finding a sparkle of joy in the whole mess: Spam as Folk Art—the only silver lining out there. Last week my email service had 1.6 million mails hit their machines. Some 500,000 were rejected as viruses, and a bit over 800,000 rejected as spam, leaving some 200,000 or so to be delivered as legitimate mail (hopefully), but some crap does get through. I feel for all the “good guys” trying hard to stay on the back of this tiger. Somewhere out there is a young vigilante looking for his cause. A suggestion: 1) round up every spammer and virus writer, 2) make them swallow an overdose of viagra while getting an enema bag of liquified mortgage applications on the other end. (Uh-oh… I told Brendan’s mom that this would be a mom-friendly blog).

— Just in case you notice half a grand of spare cash sitting on your dresser top, and you don’t particularly care for shooting real handguns, add a Han Solo Blaster to your cart (or, for the more civilized, a nifty lightsaber).

— OK, it’s time to be serious. Good news from Bruce
personally; they talked to him about his eventual transfer to a rehabilitation center, which is a clear sign that his medical situation is improving in a positive and predictable way. See that light at the end of the tunnel, my son? I pray you’re there in no time!

— Best wishes to my brother Jay and his bride Glenda, who got hitched in Liberty this morning among a large contingent of our Clan. God bless you both, and may all our dreams meet to expand His glory.

V & S

After the Y2K doomsday scenario dissolved and then the family was unable to put together a comprehensive emergency action plan in the wake of September 11, I guess I’d had enough of preparing for potential calamity. But a recent warning from Frank Gaffney about the EMP threat almost makes me think I should become a card-carrying Crashologist again. G-bo used to talk about EMP as a clear and present danger, but never suggested what could be done about it at the personal level beyond the fundamentals. Maybe I need to look into this more deeply, although it probably comes back to the basics of surviving any catastrophe—clean water, nutrition, shelter, power, communications, medical care, and self defense.

I understand, dear reader, that you might see a name like Gaffney and think, “He’s one of those right-wing think tankers who’s actively helping Rumsfeld and Cheney reshape the entire U.S. power structure.” Just keep in mind that when I check out the Websites that work to expose all these scary conservatives, I usually say, “Wow, these guys are great!”

With another successful surgery behind him, Bruce is back in a critical care room until he’s stable enough to return to his “home away from home” on the seventh floor (Solid Organ Transplant unit). When they “hosed him out” this time around, a major section of large intestine had to be removed, along with his gall bladder. As he faces down the pain with his characteristic stoicism, he’s optimistic that this is the turning point that will put him on a firm path to recovery.

ps — Meanwhile, I don’t care about Michael Jackson or his brothers. I don’t care about the jurors. I’m not interested in their private circumstances. I don’t want to know speculative opinions about their motivations. I couldn’t give a rat’s ass if they decided to exonerate him, admonish him, coronate him, or personally administer a lethal injection. (I just wanted to make that clear.)

Here’s the way I’d characterize what the Republican majority in the U.S. Senate is proposing:

“We want to prohibit a parliamentary practice that has rarely, if ever, been used prior to the election of George W. Bush, specifically, the filibustering of judicial nominees, and would leave the rule intact to employ in legislative matters.”

That doesn’t seem to me, despite the rhetoric of Democrat leaders, to be a radical assault on our system of government.

I knew the global War on Terror was going to get nasty, but nobody said anything about Klingons!

— Month of April workout totals: Swim-5; Bike-0; Run-4; Lift-0.

— Just when I was determined to boost the frequency of my fitness sessions to get in triathlon shape, the cookie began to crumble, everything hit the fan, the wheels fell off, and the pooch was screwed…

— What do you do with a Jennifer Wilbanks? Has she had time to contemplate what a thoughtless, selfish, and ultimately cruel thing she’s done? On the one hand, you have the family, with the job of loving and nurturing a very mixed-up woman old enough to know better. On the other hand, you have the authorities, with the job of ensuring effective deterrence and managing the limited resources of taxpayers. Court-ordered counseling? A public apology to volunteers? Ample community service among Hispanics? An invoice for the overtime hours clocked by each peace officer involved? Perhaps all of the above… Nevertheless, my hope is that she finds a new direction for her life and in some way learns to put others before herself. May she find the inner strength to use her inadvertent celebrity to do more good than the harm and pain she’s already caused. And one more thing: every sensational media outlet that milks the aftermath should donate the profits to assist the victims and families of actual abductions.

— Maybe I’m thinking about the Wilbanks affair because this morning I met six young people, three men and three women, who are leaving to spend the summer in Russia and Chile helping others have a better life. It’s an adventure into the unknown for them, but I can tell their real motive is to serve—to be Love in action.

— Speed bump. That’s the message from Indianapolis concerning Bruce. He’s still waging war against infection and having his ups and downs. It remains a difficult situation, now that he’s back on drugs that suppress his immune system (to prevent rejection of the transplanted kidney that’s miraculously kicked back in).

V & S