Reverse Logic

I got to thinking about a few common maxims we use.  Tweaked only a bit, they may have totally different perspectives and still ring with a basic truth.  Here are a few examples:

-                   "Every thorn has its rose"

-                   "All roads lead away from Rome"

-                   "Better is bigger"

-                   "Every day has its dog"

—Mitchell Hegman

Something Ogden Nash Said

 -  “Progress might have been alright once, but it has gone on too long.”

-  “The trouble with a kitten is that eventually it becomes a cat.”

-  “Marriage is the alliance of two people, one of whom never remembers birthdays and the other who never forgets them.”

The Proper Tool

When prepping food, I try to follow my “safety third” principles.  I avoid using a knife to break apart a big frozen chunk of frozen something-or-other into smaller frozen chunks of something-or-other.  As we like to say in my hometown of East Helena, Montana, “knives is fer killin’ folks.”

The best tools for busting up a big frozen chunk of soup, for example, are an electrician’s hammer and a monster (pronounced monžahžstir) Phillips screwdriver.  You can easily spike-apart the frozen soup by driving the tip of the screwdriver into the soup.

I know.

And you are so welcome.

Yesterday, I found myself confronted with a new one.  I needed to cut in half a spaghetti squash.  If you are unfamiliar with this type of squash, they are something of an industrial grade vegetable.

This is especially weird—considering squash is technically a fruit.

Anyhow (pronounced inžeeeežhoo), a spaghetti squash is, as I suggested, a pretty tough nut to crack.  You need only bonk a spaghetti squash once to know a knife is likely not going to be such a great idea.  These babies have armor on the outside.

So, out to the garage tool bench I went.  Once there, the proper tool presented itself at once.

The tool: a 20” crosscut hand saw.

Getting the cut started can be a bit tricky, but once you do, it is smooth sailing to the other side.

I have posted a couple images for anyone interested.

—Mitchell Hegman

AI Replacements

Artificial intelligence, known commonly as AI, is seen as an avenue for machines to replace humans in places where repetitive tasks are performed or deep analysis is required.  Entire family lines of workers may be threatened with such replacement.

I believe my family lines are secure.  I don’t see artificial intelligence supplanting the town drunk any time soon.

—Mitchell Hegman

Seekers of the Dead

Daily, I see turkey vultures spiraling in the sky above me, or veering down through the ravines around me without flapping their wings.  The vultures are seekers of the dead.  They spend their days aloft.  Constantly roving.  Circling.  Looking for any sort of dead creature upon which they might drop down onto and feast.

In addition to finding dead animals by sight, the vultures find them with a keen sense of smell.

Yesterday, I spotted two turkey vultures in a dead snag immediately below my house.  Before long, a pair of ravens appeared in a nearby tree.  And then I spotted a couple magpies flying up from the ground just below the tree in which the ravens had taken roost.

Death.

Only death could bring this crew together there below my house.

I quickly put on my shoes and stepped out to investigate.  The vultures, ravens, and magpies all sprayed themselves into the sky at once and flapped away as I dropped down the hill toward the tree nearest where the birds had gathered.

Now, a seeker of the dead myself, I expected to find a deer.

Not a deer.

Fox.

Now fully deflated and partially split open on the earth below the trees.

Likely the fox that has been sharing my birdseed with the local deer and birds.  Now, the subject of a new kind of grim sharing.

I managed photographs of the birds and the fox.  I will spare you the image of the fox.

—Mitchell Hegman

Death by Black Licorice

This news may be too much for me.  Turns out there is a compound found in black licorice, jelly beans, and some beers (Belgian beers for example) capable of killing you. 

Last year, a 54-year-old man from Massachusetts died following several weeks of eating a bag and a half black licorice every day.

According to an article I found on AP:

“The death was clearly an extreme case. The man had switched from red, fruit-flavored twists to the black licorice version of the candy a few weeks before his death last year. He collapsed while having lunch at a fast-food restaurant. Doctors found he had dangerously low potassium, which led to heart rhythm and other problems. Emergency responders did CPR and he revived but died the next day.”

This is scary stuff.  I just ate pretty much a whole bag of licorice two days ago. 

The issue here is the presence of impossible-to-pronounce “glycyrrhizic acid” found in licorice root extract.  Once in a person’s system, glycyrrhizic acid can lead to dangerously low potassium and imbalances in vital electrolytes.

The FDA permits up to 3.1% of a food’s content to have glycyrrhizic acid.

Black licorice is one of those flavors people tend to either really like or intensely dislike.  I am on the really like end of the spectrum.

—Mitchell Hegman

Source: AP

Our Internal Age: Eight

Technically, my neighbor, Kevin, and I are somewhere on the backside of what is generally considered “middle-age.”

I think, however, both of us are a bit of a moving target in gauging our age by our thinking and behavior.  Most of the time, you might place us at the age of ten or twelve internally.

Yesterday, we both dropped down to the age of eight for a good chunk of the day.

While cruising around on Hauser Lake in my pontoon boat, on a whim, I put to shore at a rocky point.  “Wow, look at all those skippers,” I said, pointing at the shore.

Kevin stepped onto the small band of stones between the face of shale and the water and skipped a few rocks. Before long, both of use were standing on the band of skipping stones both skipping stones and collecting skippers to take with us.

“These are good,” I said.  “Really good!”

I repeat.  Kevin and I are not eight years old.  We are in our sixties.  I was piloting us around the lake on a pontoon boat.  And once we were underway again, the lake lay perfectly flat before us.

“Let’s throw some skippers,” I suggested.

“From the moving boat?” asked Kevin.

“Yep.  Of course.”

And, just like that, we were eight again.

Posted below are a couple photographs and a video of Kevin skipping rocks from the deck of my boat.

Skippers

Kevin (Grimacing) Ashore

Video of Kevin Skipping Rocks

—Mitchell Hegman

Another Moment in Time

So, we arrive at the autumn of this year.

I watch a few leaves from the Mayday tree fall onto my drive.  They lay there for a while, like red raindrops that refuse to soak in…until a breeze sends them skittering off into the grass.  There, the leaves huddle together waiting for the next big thing.

—Mitchell Hegman

Fishing with Ugly People

The title of this blog is provocative.  For reasons not apparent to me, the title struck me as I was walking out to feed the birds.

It simply popped into my head out of nothing.

Ping!

Once the title was there, I had to think about it.

So, here are my thoughts:

First, I am of a mind that people can be ugly only on the inside.  Not the outside.

Secondly, I consider fishing a contemplative exercise and fishing with ugly people would prove far too distracting.

—Mitchell Hegman

Gone Squishy

I got downright squishy the other night.  Somehow, hard as this is to fathom, a story about an octopus brought me to tears.

I sat on my sofa and, quite literally, shed tears (several times) watching a documentary about a man who befriends an octopus living in a kelp forest in the waters of False Bay near Cape Town, South Africa.

An octopus.

An invertebrate.

Me crying.

I found the documentary, My Octopus Teacher, while snapping through junk on Netflix and decided to watch because, well, I don’t know why.

Honestly, I don’t have in my arsenal all the proper words to describe this documentary.  The cinematography is stunning.  The story, though expressed softly, is deeply emotive and impossible to leave behind after you have finished watching.

—Mitchell Hegman

Coffee on the Counter, Coffee on the Floor

My old boss, Gary, used to say “It’s never too early to panic” whenever he witnessed someone freaking out about something.  Early this morning, I put that phrase to practice.

Making coffee and feeding my cat are my top priorities after I flop out of bed in the morning.  In efforts to reduce my work in the morning, I fill my coffee carafe with water from my reverse osmosis system before going to bed in the evening.  I also have the basket filled with coffee grounds.  First thing in the morning, I simply need to pour the water into my coffee maker and press the power button.

This morning, when pouring water into my coffee maker, I noticed something dark and suspicious surfing out of the carafe and into the coffee maker’s water reservoir.

When I peered inside the coffee maker, I saw a spider backstroking around in the water.

A good time to panic.

So, I did.

After twirling around in disbelief and cursing a few times, I finally resorted to scooping the spider out with a spoon.  I then trotted the spider out the door and flicked it against the dark.

Upon returning to the kitchen, I poked on the power button.

About five minutes later, I returned to the kitchen only to find a pool of coffee on my counter and coffee dripping down onto the floor.

I had forgotten to put the carafe in place below the coffee basket.  I quickly grabbed it and shoved it in place to catch the little coffee remaining.

I captured an image of my mess and then spent the next half-hour cleaning top to bottom.

—Mitchell Hegman

Jumper Cables

I woke somewhat abruptly from a dream where I tried to borrow jumper cables from a set of identical quadruplet women.  The women were thirty-something blondes and they all spoke at the same time.

I awakened from the dream feeling unsettled and confused and without jumper cables.

I really wanted those jumper cables.

—Mitchell Hegman

Maturity

I think my friend, Bill, is correct.  You know you have reached maturity when, upon seeing a beautiful young woman in a skimpy swimsuit eating a sandwich, your only thought is wondering what kind of sandwich she is eating.

—Mitchell Hegman

A Moment in Time

The sky gone cobalt blue.  Except one corner, far off in the most distant mountains, which glows like an eye carved into a jack-o’-lantern lighted by a single candle.  For those of us living in light, that is enough to carry us to the next day.

—Mitchell Hegman

Safety Fifth

Desiree started a smallish remodel of her house in Makati (the city in Metro Manila where she lives).  Though not extensive, the remodel will prove a pretty bullish prospect.  Her house was constructed from concrete and concrete block to make it structurally sound enough to withstand the typhoons that on occasion make landfall there.  And construction might be haphazard in the Philippines under the best of conditions.   

The most substantial part of this project is the demolition of a poured-in-place concrete stairway inside Desiree’s house.  Three men showed up for that project.  After watching them fluffing around with hammers and a small drill in efforts to break apart the stairway, Desiree rented them a full-fledged jackhammer to speed up the work.

“They would be here for a year at the rate they were going,” she said.  “And it is so dusty!”

I asked her to send me some photographs of the men working.

“Aaayyy!” I exclaimed after I looked at the photographs.  “They are barefoot and wearing shorts!”

Desiree is always telling me to be safe when I work at the cabin.  “Remember,” she will say, teasing me, “safety third!”

“Bare feet,” I repeated to her.

Desiree giggled.  “With this crew, it’s like, safety…fifth.”

We both laughed.

I am sharing two photographs Desiree sent.  In one you will see a barefoot man prying tile off the concrete steps.  In the other, a man—wearing what are apparently “safety” thongs—wields the jackhammer while spalling apart the concrete steps.

—Mitchell Hegman

A Telling Mistake

The other day, while writing something, I mistyped and wrote “Untied” States of America instead of United States of America.   Before I made my correction, the thought occurred that “Untied” was at least partially correct under present circumstances.

—Mitchell Hegman

First Anniversary

 I have seen my share of dubious marriages:

• Cousins.   ü 
• People marrying while on a drunken binge?   ü 
• People from East Helena, Montana, marrying people from Butte, America?   ü
• Friends marrying drug-using exotic dancers?    ü 

That’s a lot to consider.  But consider this.  A woman in the United Kingdom recently celebrated her one-year anniversary with a tree she married.   

Yep.  A tree.

Kate Cunningham, from Sefton, Merseyside, married an elder tree she “met” at Rimrose Valley Country Park.  She said of her marriage to the elder tree, “Marrying the tree has given me a new purpose.  I’ve changed my name to Elder. So even that gives me a whole new feeling.  It fits in with married life as well, I feel like a changed person.”

Kate entertained what may (in some circles) be described as sound reasons for marrying the tree.  The ceremony was inspired by female activists in Mexico who held similar ceremonies as a form of protest to raise awareness of illegal logging and land clearing.  Kate similarly hoped her marriage would attract attention to a campaign to save Rimrose Valley Country Park from being transformed into a bypass by Highways England.

Notably, Kates’s boyfriend and her children—particularly her 15-year-old son—are not as keen on the marriage.  They remained at home when she went to the park to mark the first anniversary with a few friends and a glass of elderflower champagne.

Kate Cunningham and Her Husband, September 2019

—Mitchell Hegman

Source: https://www.mirror.co.uk

Resonance

So, there is a weird thing at my house.  I can tell when the big brown UPS van is approaching from quarter-mile away.  Long before I see it.

Keep this thought in mind.

Nikola Tesla, the brilliant Serbian inventor who gave us (or perfected) the electrified world we now share, was very interested in harmonic resonance frequencies.  You are likely familiar with these.  An example is when sound shatters a glass.  The frequency of soundwaves, upon reaching resonance, cause the glass to vibrate so violently the glass shatters.

According to Merriam-Webster, resonance is “a vibration of large amplitude in a mechanical or electrical system caused by a relatively small periodic stimulus of the same or nearly the same period as the natural vibration period of the system.”

Tesla tinkered with resonance frequencies in electrical circuits and mechanical oscillators.  He claimed that a mechanical oscillator he made could destroy the Empire State Building with "five pounds of air pressure" if attached on a girder and tuned to the proper frequency.

Maybe absurd.

But consider the story of the Tacoma Narrows Bridge.  The bridge was nicknamed “Galloping Gertie” due to the way its deck swayed under certain wind conditions.   In 1940, only four months after being opened to traffic, wind at a certain speed caused the bridge deck to oscillate (something called aeroelastic flutter) at a forced resonance.  The bridge quite literally tore itself apart.  I have posted a short video about the bridge at the end of this blog.

Now, back to the UPS rig.

Something about the elevation of my house relative to the road, the open prairie before me carrying the sound waves, and the bullying rumble of the UPS van allows the sound waves to, more or less, assault my house from a great distance.  The van produces sound waveforms that force my windows to, for lack of a more precise word, pulse rapidly.  My entire house fills with a low but very perceptible rumble.

—Mitchell Hegman

Video Link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y0xohjV7Avo

Sources:  https://sciencedemonstrations.fas.harvard.edu/presentations/shattering-wineglass, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tesla%27s_oscillator, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tacoma_Narrows_Bridge_(1940)

My Makeup

I think I have my intellectual and emotional makeup figured out.  It looks something like this:

¼ jumbled words

¼ collecting pretty rocks

¼ peeing on an electric fence

¼ little boy

—Mitchell Hegman

Political Signs

Driving to and from town, I found myself whisking by a substantial number of political signs.  The signs have popped up in recent weeks—forests of them in some places.  They have been planted along every country road and city street.

One particular yard near the causeway seems to have nearly everyone from every ideological corner represented:  So-and-So, Democrat for governor, So-and-So, a Republican for Senate, So-and-So for county something-or-other.  Most of the signs in the yard stood in an orderly row.  Finally, at the end of the row I saw the one sign—and I am not making this up—that reached the political heart of me.

The sign read: Fresh Bait.

—Mitchell Hegman

NOTE: This blog is the reprinting of a passage from a journal entry I made in the year 2000.  Seems appropriate for the time.

Mental Exercise

Neurologists and other health experts suggest that regular mental exercises are key in keeping your brain sharp as you age.  I think I have that covered.  I am constantly doing this exercise where I try to remember, when I go from one room to another, why I went there. 

—Mitchell Hegman

On the Hunt (Forensic Files)

I picked up a sliver of wood in one of my fingers the other day while applying wood trim around a beam at my cabin.  I tried to finesse the sliver out with a needle at the cabin, but had no luck. 

No luck at home that evening, either.

Yesterday, I decided to try again at home.  But the tweezers I used a few days ago where not where I normally stow them.  Off I went on the hunt.  I wandered around my house, opening drawers, lifting papers, shoving aside this and that to find the tweezers.

I spent the better part of a quarter-hour looking.

No luck.

Frustrated, I flopped onto the sofa and watched, of all things, Forensic Files.  Almost as soon as I sat on the sofa, I realized I had misplaced my smarter-than-me-phone while looking for the tweezers.

Off I went again—storming from room to room—seeking my phone.  A few minutes later I flopped back down on the sofa with phone in hand.

On television, investigators had cracked the case.  Oldest story in the book.  A husband, in premeditated fashion, had murdered his wife and faked an automobile accident as a cover-up.

“If you guys are so smart,” I called out to the television, “why don’t you find my tweezers?  Huh?  Huh?  Where are you on that?”

—Mitchell Hegman

Beam Me Down

If you watch a few episodes of the original Star Trek television series from the 1960’s, you quickly learn one rule.  That rule is as follows: If you are a nameless crew member beamed down to a planet with Captain Kirk and either Doctor McCoy, Scotty, or Spock, you will be dead within a few minutes.  You may not even get a chance to speak before your demise.

Some mornings I wake up feeling like a nameless crew member.

And, you know what, just beam me down straight from my bed.

—Mitchell Hegman

Dog Bites Drunks

For a time, my father had a dog that did not like drunks.  The drunker someone was, the more the dog disliked them.  The dog quickly developed a habit of biting drunks on principle.

While an argument might be made in favor of such a dog, the dog posed a couple of problems for my father.

First, my father lived in East Helena, Montana.  I am not trying to say drunks are common there.

Wait.

Yes, I am.

Secondly, the dog would snarl at my father when he came home drunk.

The dog’s stance on drunks developed into something I blogged about several years ago: a CLM.  The acronym CLM stands for “career limiting maneuver.”  To the best of my knowledge, the acronym was originated by John Bedard, a pleasant young man who is, sadly, no longer with us.

Dad’s dog, as I understand it, was sent out of town to live on a local ranch operated by generally sober people.

—Mitchell Hegman

Letting in the Cat

This time of year, I try to usher in as much cool air as I can in the early morning.  As soon as I wake, I crank open windows throughout the house and allow air to flow in through the screen door at my back door.

I also let out the cat at the screen door. 

And I let him in again.

And out.

And in.

And out.

Same ritual every day.

For the last couple days, a new twist has developed in the predawn hours.  Along with my cat sitting at the screen—meowing to be let in—I find a horde of moths attracted by the delicious artificial light inside my house.

Now, when I slide open the screen door, my 20 pounds of house cat will sit there just long enough to allow a moth or three to flap inside before he saunters in.   

As long as the moths stay out of my Scotch, I guess we are fine.

—Mitchell Hegman

A Weakness for Potato Chips

 A weakness for potato chips runs pretty deep in my family.  I and my sisters all seem to struggle with cravings for them.  For many years I forced myself to avoid the grocery store aisle where chips were on display.

More recently, I have been hitting the aisle. 

I can’t seem to stop myself.

Seems a bear in Tahoe, California, has the same issue.

Posted is a video captured of the bear “shopping.”

—Mitchell Hegman

Video Link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oRav9syy2bE 

Might Have and Would Never

List of stuff I might have come up with (given time):

• Organically grown vegetables
• Goo Gone cleaner
• SiriusXM
• Abstract poetry
• Fidget spinners
• Reverse mortgage loans
• Social Security
• Napkins
• Hats with ear flaps
• The weed whacker

List of stuff I would never have come up with:

• Sitcoms
• Video stores
• Texting
• The spork
• Spelling words only one way
• Mob rule
• Rubik’s cube
• Permanent vacations
• Subprime lending

—Mitchell Hegman

When My Solar PV Array Meets the Sun

I find a certain utilitarian beauty in seeing my solar photovoltaic array bathed in full sunlight at midday.  The modules “pop” in the visual sense.  They are shiny and perfectly constructed and they reek of modernity.  And they are producing energy.

At the same time, I designed and constructed my array with the idea it might—after a fashion—look more organic.  Flowerish, maybe.  Perhaps, it might suggest the squared start of a tree.

My efforts are always up for debate.

I will say this, there are some sunrise events in which I find outright beauty in my solar PV array.  Yesterday morning provided one of those.  Today, I am posting two photographs from that sunrise.  I am also posting my favorite “array” sunrise. 

 

September 2, 2020

June 4, 2015

September 2, 2020

—Mitchell Hegman

Into the Kingdom

A devout man, my friend’s father regularly studied the Book of Revelation.  He soon began to extend his interpretations of the final book into his (and our) everyday lives.  He became convinced the election of William Jefferson Clinton had ushered in the end times.

“I am not seeing that,” I told me friend upon first hearing this idea.

“Me either,” my friend said.

After William Jefferson Clinton came and went, my friend’s father—now pushing through middle age—embraced the idea he would not die.  He imagined himself, instead, walking right through the Apocalypse and ascending directly into Kingdom of Jesus Christ.

Neither my friend nor I saw that, either.

Today, we take no pleasure in being correct in our thinking.

—Mitchell Hegman

Something Kin Hubbard Said

Kin Hubbard was a nationally-known cartoonist working in the early 1900s.  Hubbard was born on this date in 1868 and died in 1930.  Some of his quotes popped up in front of me today on the net (thanks to this being the day of his birth).  I enjoy the way he threw a twist into common adages.

Following are three Kin Hubbard quotes:

-  “Honesty pays, but it doesn't seem to pay enough to suit some people.”

-  “Boys will be boys, and so will a lot of middle-aged men.”

-  “It's pretty hard to tell what does bring happiness; poverty and wealth have both failed.”

—Mitchell Hegman