The Sagamore Journal

It takes alot of chutzpah to go from waving one’s righteous stick of retribution one day to waving one’s naughty stick of prostitution the next.” – Don Lando, on Homer: “Spitzer’s no Greek”

• Fat People are Crazy – New research on weight and dementia
  • Most viewed: A skillfully balanced news & narrative on Fatties by The Bruce
• NEWS FLASH: Chantal Sebire dies at home
  • TSJ’s first wildly successful article. Where did Don Lando find this gem of a news story?

After a long day spent insulating and drywalling my basement I retired to the front porch of my tiny, craftsman bungalow with a bowl of tobacco and a bottle of beer. I penned this article first on paper, as the rocking chair gently creaked and the rain softly fell. If you haven’t already guessed, I do my best pondering here, as the smoke drifts about and this infernal, leaky, red oil lamp (purchased at Wal-Mart for $3) casts a dim, surreal light upon the premises.

As I worked today I chewed on a question posed by an old friend:

Being a man who has been immersed in music for a large part of his life, I had a question I wanted to get your thoughts on. So basically my question is “What about music makes it attractive to people?” I have just been wondering this because a love of music seems to be one of the only nonessential life functions that almost all people share. Since different people enjoy different styles of music though, it has to be a more fundamental property of music itself.”
-Friar Tuck, in an email to The Bruce

I was recently told that melodies (and words attached therein) are among the safest, most protected memories in the brain, that should you grow old and fat and lose your mind, you will still remember songs. And should you by happenstance be bumped on the head and forget everything else in your life, you will probably still remember the words to those childhood songs, stored deep within your psyche.

Row, row, row your boat, gently down the stream, merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, life is but a dream…”

So what does make us tick? Like the reliable meter of a metronome, apparently there are some things so consistent none of us can avoid them. And why do we love music, and like primordial beasts, instinctively hide it away in our safest places even as we are unaware we are doing it?

Music is a higher revelation than all wisdom and philosophy, it is the wine of a new procreation …”
-Ludwig van Beethoven

Music is indeed a revelation. It is the nonverbal communication of emotion, a thousand feelings all at once high and low, infinite expressions beyond absolute interpretations, the free flow of thought between composers and musicians, musicians and you, you and me. Is music all these things and more? Perhaps it’s simply beyond our comprehension.

Who are these people that work for the Transportation Security Administration (TSA)? It seems to me that these must be among the most stubborn, anti-social and incompetent people around. And it’s very frightening to me that our government chooses them for security detail.

Tell you what, TSA, new rules. You can stop people for things like sippy cups and tata jewelry only after you have proven you can stop people for CARRYING BOMBS, GUNS AND KNIVES.

Am I acting unreasonable here? I mean, c’mon! It’s the second time this month that Don Lando has had to say something about it.

Here’s an interesting development, excellent only as a demonstration to those who still believe that fiat money and US monetary policy are acceptable. 

The world’s fifth-largest pension fund will no longer buy US Treasuries because yields are too low. The move signals what could be a big shift by financial institutions away from US government debt into higher-yielding assets.

Looks like the South Koreans crunched the numbers and found that our debt isn’t worth the paper its constantly printed on. Cat’s outta the bag now, folks. We’ll soon be suffering what our leaders deserve to get.

…and The Queen cuts him down to size.

Third Bruce: She’s a good Sheila, Bruce and not at all stuck up.

The Bruce: Hear, hear! Well spoken, Bruce!

Read more, and more, and more.

And let’s see what the experts have to say:

Perhaps some additional nanny-state legislation is in order.

STUNNING new research from Kaiser Permanente Division of Research has linked dementia to mid-life waist size. This means that if you are 40 and fat you’re three times more likely to suffer from dementia related mental decline as you age.

This is not a severe shock to any of us who have watched a fatty order three burgers and then opt for a “Diet” Coke. If you think the Diet Coke is going to counter act your mountain of food, you are most certainly delusional. Talk about Sin of Gluttony.

Today, at the risk of upstaging the Boob Jobs for Minors article, many are beginning to make a bold statement. In light of recent economic activity, the continued loud rip of the Democratic cloth, the inability of Senators Clinton and Obama to rise above the fray, and recent national polls I say this: Unless the liberal “dream ticket” becomes a reality, Senator John McCain will win in a landslide.

Apparently unphased by my words of caution, lefties are prepared to defect rather than support their second choice, and in my opinion right wingers will most certainly vote along party lines rather than support the ultra-liberalism represented in both Obama and Clinton.

The question still remains as to whether he is truly a Man in the Arena. Maybe this will help you decide.

UK-based website missbimbo.com is quickly attaining phenom status among the apparently key 7-17 year-old female demographic.

Users modify their bimbo with breast augmentations or crash diets, feeding it “every now and then” in hopes of creating, as the site says, the hottest, coolest, most famous bimbo in the whole world.

The website allows users to pit their bimbos against others in what the site’s creators claim is not a bad influence, but rather a morally sound education on the real world.

Naturally, real-life purchases such as boob jobs and diet pills cost real-life money. Not to fear, missbimbo.com offers a virtual solution. “To earn some bimbo cash you will have to (gasp) work or find a boyfriend to be your sugar daddy and hook you up with a phat expense account!” the site declares.

It’s free to play until the user runs out of virtual dollars, at which time real US$3.00 text messages must be sent.

Ah HA! So someone is making money from underage girls’ tendency towards popularity-at-all-costs and the regrettably common and unhealthy sin of vanity. I suspected as much.

The irony and ostensible humor of missbimbo.com is not lost on me. But can we be sure it is not lost on children?

In light of the storm clouds that only seem to be getting darker as we approach the Democratic National Convention, I thought I’d enlighten left-leaning folks with a short narrative on settling.

Four years ago some friends and I took an early spring hike up a small but rapid and roaring river valley. We aimed toward a dot on the map called Camp Nine. Though none of us had ever been there, we entertained grand notions of how superb it would be, relaxing at a sheltered, mountain camp deep in the wilderness. We do this every time, romanticize our excursions while somehow forgetting past fiascos.

When it began raining a mile into the trek, we were acutely reminded of the unpredictability of spring weather. Compounded with a late start and the approaching darkness we had no choice but to set up camp before reaching our destination. We stopped in a snag of fallen pine, burned out by fire 10 years ago.

On slightly sandy soil, next to the Mad River we slept and named the place “Camp Eight Point Five”. You may be thinking today, 4 years later we’ve taken to idealizing Camp Nine; we haven’t. In fact, I don’t think any of us care if we ever see it; we put Camp 8.5 on that pedestal instead. We’ve written poems, talked it up to associates, composed a song; all in the name of 8.5.
Last year we went back and took the women and although they had heard every word about it, when we arrived they saw it for what it was: an ugly place, dull and gray in an otherwise lush and beautiful forest; evidently they were expecting more. I still haven’t heard the end of it, “Hey look, honey! That’s a perfect spot for ‘Camp Not-a-Hellhole’”.

Yes, (now this is for you, so pay attention) it is easy to deceive yourself into thinking that where you ended up is better than where you could have been. There is nothing inherently wrong with finishing somewhere you didn’t intend, but make sure if you fall short you see it for what it is. It’s not Camp 8.5 that is so great, but rather the adventure that landed us there. We’ve only completed half the story. So this is my advice to you as well: don’t accept dull grey before you’ve seen Camp Nine.

RADICAL new research from a recent University of Washington study found that educational programs do indeed affect youth pregancy rates but that those same youths were undeterred from their primal, pubecent, sexual urges. This comes as little surprise to anyone who has ever been a teenager.

I personally feel that the best way to discourage teen sexual activity, or at the very least encourage proper use of contraceptives is to subject teens to the God-awful STD sideshow they made my generation watch. The Bruce still has nightmares.

Fresh off the wire – and to make up for the delay on the Englishman Catapult-wielder story - is news of the death of French cancer patient Chantal Sebire at her home today.

She had a rare face tumor called esthesioneuroblastoma, which took her senses of taste and smell in 2000 and partial eyesight last October.

She unsuccessfully sought permission earlier this week from French courts to receive doctor-assisted suicide, something Dutch doctors also refused to do.

It is yet unclear how Sebire died.  Sebire died of a barbituate overdose three times the lethal dosage, authorities said on March 27th.

I am still thinking about this story from the March 5th London Times. It is easily the most interesting and entertaining news I have read in two weeks.

Before we get to it, though, I’d just like to point out the fact that English gun laws are considered some of the strictest in the world, to the point that citizens are not permitted to defend their homes with firearms.

NOTE: a railway sleeper is what Americans call a railroad tie or a crosstie.

The headquarters of Joe Weston-Webb’s portable flooring empire is protected by security fencing, motion-sensor lights and CCTV cameras.

None of these conventional measures has deterred arsonists, however, and in desperation, Mr Weston-Webb has now fortified his defences with less orthodox technology left over from his time as a travelling showman.

A 30ft Roman catapult, loaded with chicken droppings from a nearby farm is primed each evening. And a cannon, which Mr Weston-Webb once used to shoot his wife across the River Avon, will fire a railway sleeper if triggered by an intruder.

Mr Weston-Webb was yesterday erecting a sign outside his business, which stands at the end of a farm track in the lower valley of the River Soar in Nottinghamshire – a place known locally as Soar Bottom. It reads: “Warning: These premises are protected by smart-poo and railway sleeper projectiles.”
He told The Times: “I have an exploding coffin too. The intruder would have to climb into the box in order to be blown out of it and I don’t expect anyone would be stupid enough to do that, but I’m working on it.”

Mr Weston-Webb, 70, fears that his company, Grumpy Joe’s Flooring, has been a target for rivals in the portable flooring industry ever since it won a lucrative contract to supply the BBC show Strictly Come Dancing.

In the early hours of February 2 arsonists started a fire that caused £2,000 worth of damage. On the same night, four cars outside his daughter’s house had their tyres slashed and windows smashed.

“My daughter lives 12 miles away,” he said. “It’s too much of a coincidence. We are pretty certain it was a rival company, but I can’t prove it.”

He says he did not build up his flooring business in order to let his rivals walk all over him, nor have years arranging to fire his wife, Mary, over rivers in cannon and catapults left him shy of other experiments.

“She’s 54 now and far too big to fit into the cannon in any case,” he said.

Mrs Weston-Webb was one of Mr Weston-Webb’s squad of “Moto-Birds”, travelling the world driving motorcycles and cars over ramps and water features. While injured with a broken arm, she climbed into the catapult her husband is now employing to defend his warehouses, before an expectant crowd of 30,000. “I flew across 160ft of the Avon,” she said. “Unfortunately the net was set at an angle and I bounced into the river.”

Mrs Weston-Webb stood by her husband as he attempted to build a car with wings that would fly from the edge of a quarry (it didn’t) and a ramp that would take a double-decker bus across the Avon.

And she stands by his decision to lay booby-traps. “We just feel so helpless,” she said.

Nottinghamshire Police said yesterday that they would send an officer to offer advice on “conventional security techniques” and on the use of “reasonable force”. Mr Weston-Webb promises to be reasonable. “We are putting a rubber block on the end of the railway sleeper,” he said. “It should just knock an intruder down.”

I still laugh! This story’s so great, it has everything. If you notice, it’s actually a few stories in one. After the first question is asked you can figure the Weston-Webbs must have just gushed out their long, strange history that naturally concluded in this catapult/cannon defense system!

One can almost hear plump old Mrs. Weston-Webbs explaining to the puzzled media: “I never imagined it would cause a problem. I have always believed in Joe and his creations are just magical. Such as the flying car… or there was the double decker bus that he’d meant to jump over the River Avon…”

And who caught the fact that this all took place in the literary home of Robin Hood? OF COURSE the police aren’t pleased. Remember what a jerk the Sherriff of Nottingham(shire) was about money and power?

SUNDAY, March 16th, in a longstanding tradition of taking over troubled businesses and making them better, JPMorgan Chase & Co. announced it would acquire the flailing investment firm Bear Stearns for 2$ now $10 a share with support from the Federal Reserve via an emergency, discounted rate cut. Reorganization, or “Morganization” is expected to take place during the next few months, cutting more than 7,000 jobs.

This classic, Morganesque move, reminiscent of similar actions on the part of JP Morgan during the Panic of 1893, may be good news for Republican presidential candidate John McCain should the same Wall Street money choose to back his campaign and if populist candidates continue to treat businesses with contempt.