Frodo, Keeper of the Ring

Wednesday, May 11, 2005

My Ding-a-Ling-a-Ling
Mood:

flirty
Topic: "Science Marches On"
R. Brian Langerhans, a graduate student at Washington University in St. Louis, published the first study ever done on predators as an influence on genital evolution in the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences. Langerhans studied two species of fish that give birth to live young, which he caught in ponds in the Bahamas and in Texas. The study showed that males taken from ponds that contained predatory fish had smaller sexual organs--by about 15 percent--than males from predator-free locations.

Females of the two species preferred the males with larger genitalia, according to the study. While males with large sex organs were more likely to get mates, they were also more likely to be eaten by predators because their genitalia are a drag on their swimming speed. "It's a groundbreaking study," said Duncan Irschick, an evolutionary biologist at Tulane University. "Sometimes male sex organs are the only thing that distinguishes one species from another," he said.

Langerhans concludes the study by pointing out that the subject males have non-retractable sex organs, and that they wave them at females in order to attract them. "It's not so dramatically obvious to our eyes," said Langerhans, "but for a female fish, a 15 percent difference is huge."

What? You think I'm making this all up? Let's have a little decorum out there while Frodo makes a point or two here.

First of all, I'll bet the fish with the little weenies came out of the ponds in Texas.

Secondly, Frodo is very curious about the male fish whose swimming speed is lessened due to the perspective of larger size. Evidently the manuverability of the fish is not lessened due to the presence of an extended rudder.

Finally, Frodo takes note of a personal lesson in this very valuable study. Frodo is going to have to be much more careful around predators.

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 9:18 PM EDT

Updated: Wednesday, May 11, 2005 9:25 PM EDT

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Tuesday, May 10, 2005

You Lied, Straight-faced, While I Cried
Mood:

accident prone
Topic: "Emily Latella Lives"
All of the major networks, and all of the cable news outlets are today reporting a lie. It is not true that the President of the United States has been greeted by cheering throngs in Georgia. In fact, the President of the United States has not even set foot in Georgia at any time today. Frodo has it on good counsel that the President of the United States has been out of the country for several days.

Talk about manipulation of the news media, here they are getting ready to close military bases in Georgia and cutting thousands of indigents off Medicare, and these yahoos are reporting that the people of Georgia are cheering. One of these fallouts from "American Idol" has even had the gall to suggest that the President's "fight for democracy" resonates with Georgians. Frodo says "Hooey!"

Frodo drove down to Dobbins Air Force Base, where Air Force One always lands, and he asked the guard at the front gate if the President's plane had landed in Georgia today? Staff Sgt. Alfonso Gutierrez responded, "What you talkin' about Man?"
Frodo did note that Sgt. Gutierrez was particularly secretive, and kept his hand over his mouth when speaking on the telephone, presumably to the President's Press Secretary, and presumably informing him that the jig was up.

Georgia is a "red state," and it goes without saying that given the comparative standing of SAT scores among all the states that Bush carried Georgia by a healthy margin. How confident the Orcs must be that they could formulate such a falsehood. The question now becomes, where was Bush? He wasn't in Georgia, and Frodo can prove it.

"Pardon?"
"Oh, that Georgia."
"Well, it is a RED state, isn't it?"

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 8:44 PM EDT

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Sunday, May 8, 2005

You Left Me, Just When I Needed You Most
Mood:

happy
Topic: "Eyes of a Gorilla"
In December, a group of eight rare mountain gorillas disappeared from an Ugandan Nature Reserve. Rumors sparked that the primates had been abducted by neighboring Rwanda in order to boost tourism in their National Parks. It has long been debated in Wildlife circles whether Uganda or Rwanda offers more favorable viewing of creatures in the wild. Frodo has always been partial to Panama City, Florida.

Last week the missing gorillas returned to their home in Uganda, accompanied by a new baby and another adult gorilla. Frodo was struck by the analogy to polite human society when a neighbors' daughter got "knocked up." The unfortunate young lady would depart for a "home" in a neighboring state, and return some time later with a perfectly plausible, although unbelievable, story about why she had this infant in her possession. Considering the events of the Jennifer Wilbanks non-story on all the TV networks, Frodo feels there is synergy here.

All eight gorillas boarded a Greyhound bus at the terminal in Duluth, Georgia, bound for Las Vegas. Once there, they headed south to Albuquerque, simply because it was spelled in as bizarre a manner as any word in their native tongue, and when repeated three times in rapid succession, sounds exactly like the mating call of some sort of jungle bird. Does, doesn't it?

One of the gorillas, a wide-eyed charmer, gave birth in Albuquerque. The father, she alleged, was an Hispanic male whose promise had been to elope, but whose intent had proved to be less than honorable. At this point, the gorillas called home, seeking assistance. The Ugandan Special Army (USA, for short) provided assistance back to their mountain home for all of the native gorillas and for their medical/spiritual adviser the Majority Leader of the United States Senate, Bill Frist. Dr. Frist, when asked to comment on the events that had taken place, responded by singing "OOO EEE OOO AH AH WING WANG WALLA WALLA BING BANG."

The commercial media back in Uganda feigned outrage at the investigative and transportation costs borne by taxpayers. Frodo feels quite confident that the entrance fee to Uganda's Nature Reserves will be increased to absorb the additional cost. This obviously mature solution far surpassed the activities of the monkeys in Gwinnett County. It does indeed prove that there, the animals are running the zoo.

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 9:11 PM EDT

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Thursday, May 5, 2005

Miles and Miles and Miles of Heart
Mood:

irritated
Topic: "Chew my Gazebo, Willya?"
The Havahart Company of Lititz, Pennsylvania, given its' location near the towns of Blue Ball, Intercourse, and Bird in Hand, is an Amish Company. The company manufactures live traps, and their primary distributor is Home Depot. Frodo learned all of this from his friend Pippin, who had amassed the grand sum of 38 trapped squirrels in his backyard in Northern Virginia. Pippin further instructed Frodo in the theory that trapped squirrels must be released at least three miles from the point of capture, or they will return.

One might reasonably assume that Frodo has, or has had, a continuing problem with the very cute, but very destructive extra-terrestrials. One would assume correctly. Given that fact, Frodo visited the Orange megalith and purchased a Havahart trap. Only after, however, his first effort, a slingshot, proved more destructive to the windows in the rear of Sam's house than to the derrieres of the tree rats.

The first night passed slowly for both Frodo and for Mick, the Wonder Dog. Mick, mostly Australian Shepherd, responds well to the things that excite his play buddy. Mick shot through the dog door that first morning to be first upon the scene where he was greeted by more teeth than he had ever seen in one location at one moment in his entire lifetime. Ophelia Opossum was thoroughly pissed. To this day, Mick will not go anywhwere near the trap, regardless of its contents.

Baiting the trap with peanut butter and a few sunflower seeds eventually draws in one of the intended targets. Frodo then has to place the trap in the trunk of his "motor car" and drive at least three miles to a suitable location to reposition his adversary. There are many options in the Shire. The local Catholic Church sits high on a wooded hill, and if it is an off-time for prayer, it is a suitable location to subtly deposit a new parishoner. A poorly located subdivision, where the residents tend to drive too fast, and whose children are particularly obnoxious is another favorite, particularly around the picnic area. Squirrels seem to like potato salad.

Ah, but the best is the local high school, directly under the bleachers of the football stadium. Frodo has provided the halftime entertainment for almost every game in the history of the school. The little buggers evidently get irritated at the bands marching around on their field, and try their best to drive the marchers into the sea. Perhaps you have seen our handiwork on Animal Channel?

There is a science to all of this, since the squirrels give birth in February in the Shire, and not until May or June do the little dumb ones become big enough to survive on their own. Dear reader, we are approaching prime time, and Frodo's bird feeders are overrun. This day we applied a little oil to the trap, baited it up, and set it conveniently close to the 546 nests located in Frodo's backyard. Let the games begin, and we who are about to be relocated salute you. Hail Frodo!

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 10:15 PM EDT

Updated: Thursday, May 5, 2005 10:20 PM EDT

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Wednesday, May 4, 2005

Odds Are He Won't Live to See Tomorrow
Mood:

sharp
Topic: "Dearest Bilbo"
"Mr. Frodo, please write that High School English Teacher and thank her, for both of us."

"Dear Mrs. Ames, enclosed is a "Blue Book" assignment that I wrote in a Freshman English course. My Professor wrote something at the end which I thought you might like to see. I consider it a very great compliment, and I wanted to share it with you."
" I enjoy college life very much, and much of the credit for it goes to you, and to Mr. Maranian, and to so many others who actually got my attention from time-to-time. I will always cherish the books, not least of which is 'The Grapes of Wrath.' I try every day to remember Robert Penn Warren and the definition of "greatness." These are gifts you gave to me, and to all of us lucky enough to be in your class. Thank you."

"My Dear Mr. Frodo, your very wonderful letter arrived on a dreary day, and instantaneously the clouds were replaced by sunshine. You may never know much I appreciate the words of your Professor. Follow him, keep listening, and never, ever lose that which makes you so special. Thank you, my dear Frodo."

Rachel Ames was a graduate of the University of Wisconsin. She was married, and had two children, Allison and Ashford. Frodo met both of her children, in passing, but he never met her husband. Years later, VANITY FAIR published an article which detailed much of the adult life of her family. The husband, it seems, was an employee of the Central Intelligence Agency, and he was an alcoholic.

About the time that Frodo's one and only letter to this magnificent woman was written Allison Ames, only a few years older than Frodo, died from breast cancer. Not long after that the anonymous Mr. Ames passed away, probably with no recollection of where he was at the time. Frodo supposes that the timing of his letter was as good as it ever could have been.

Rachel died in her son's apartment from a heart attack a few years later. Frodo did not know that until he read it in one of the books written about her son. Ashford Ames had followed his father into the CIA where he rose to a position of prominence in that part of the Intelligence community that dealt with the Soviet Union. Unfortunately, he also inherited his father's tastes.

After Rachel died, Ashford Ames married a very attractive Latin American woman, and he went to great expense to keep her happy. To establish and maintain the requisite lifestyle, he needed money. He got it by selling out his country. He got it by selling classified information to the Soviet Union. He got it by providing information which resulted in the death of more than a dozen people in different parts of the world. It cost him his freedom.

Frodo reflects often on the best teacher, Rachel Ames. For all the gifts she gave to Frodo, he remains most grateful that she did not live one more day. She endured the death of her daughter, and the torment of her husband, and her end came without ever knowing of her son's treachery.

Dear Mom, as Mother's Day nears Frodo just wanted to take a few minutes and let you know how grateful I am . . .

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 9:28 PM EDT

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Tuesday, May 3, 2005

Sugar in the Morning, Sugar in the Evenin'
Mood:

hungry
Topic: "Sweet Georgia Brown"
Delbert Bland, the State of Georgia's largest grower of Sweet Vidalia Onions, commenced shipping on April 28th. Mr. Bland reported that he shipped 100,000 50-pound bags--100 truck loads--on the first day of the 2005 season. For Onion afficionados, like Frodo, the season delayed by cool spring temperatures has heightened the culinary imagination. Cookbooks receive much more than passing interest this time of year in the Shire.

For the uninitiated, the simple fact of what a Vidalia happens to be is explained by a brief lesson in geography. Life in the coastal counties of Georgia requires every homeowner to have a water filtration pump which removes sulfur from drinking water. The sulfur content of the water is so high that it smells like rotten eggs. Now, go inland 75 or so miles and the earth in the counties where Vidalias grow is virtually devoid of sulfur. The absence of sulfur is what gives the Onion its' sweet taste. The sulfur, of course, is leached from the soil and washes downstream in the water. The "shelf life" of the Vidalia is retained by the household consumer carefully wrapping each onion into a knotted section of an old pair of pantyhose. No salad should be served absent a Vidalia.

Martha Stewart, an alumni of "Camp Cupcake," is a fan of ramps. Ramps, or leeks as they are known by New Jerseyites and other Visigoths, are recommended by the "Ankle Bracelet Queen" in many of her recipes to brighten up the otherwise tasteless fare served in parts of Mordor. Ramps will put hair on your chest, or the soles of your feet, and mosquitoes will not enter into your sphere of influence. It is said that Eric Rudolph, the "Olympic Park Bomber," lived off of ramps as a major part of his diet in the five years he remained as a fugitive.

Ramps, again for the uninitiated, grow wild in the mountains of the Southern Appalachians. Many rural communities hold "Ramp Festivals" in the Springtime. It should be noted that these festivals are generally attended only by those equipped with appropriate hazard attire.

Ramps have become cult items. So much so, in fact, that the National Park Service is issuing guidelines to restrict the harvest of the native grown plant. This, Frodo assumes, can all be laid at the feet of the publicity awarded the ramp by readers of the "Dungeon Diva."

Frodo is very pleased that so much attention is given to ramps. Frodo hopes that equal thought is given to brussel sprouts, cranberries, cooked carrots, and haggis. Vidalias are for the good guys.

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 9:27 PM EDT

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Sunday, May 1, 2005

Who Are You? Who? Who?
Mood:

don't ask
Topic: "Frist Friends"
Given the mystical incantations of Frodo's favorite Witch Doctor, Frist the Magnificent, it was not surprising to learn that the State of Tennessee has lifted the Medical License of Dr. Charles Harlan, the former State Medical Examiner. Now think about this, they lifted the Medical License of a guy who only works on dead bodies. Frodo was aghast thinking about what he must have been doing on those slabs in Nashville.

In truth, Harlan was charged with tampering with evidence, incompetence, and bizarre personal behavior (so far, it sounds a lot like George W. Bush to Frodo). Let's examine a few of these charges before rigor mortis sets in or before CSI comes on.

In 1999, Harlan responded to a request for a confirmation of death notice for a local bank by faxing a piece of paper with the message "M. L. is dead." When a follow-up request for additional data was received, the little kidder responded "M. L. is dead. She is green and has maggots crawling on her." From Frodo's perspective, the information is concise, albeit a bit graphic.

Again in 1999, James Suttle spent a night at the residence of his cousin Steve Hobbs. During the night, Hobbs staggered and fell backward onto a glass-top coffee table. Upon his dispatch to the scene, and before any autopsy, Harlan pronounced Mr Hobbs' death a homicide due to a "stab wound in the back." After five months in jail, Mr. Suttle was found Not Guilty because the defense was able to prove that a rib Hobbs broke in a fight about a week before his death had punctured a lung, causing internal bleeding and a subsequent seizure. Hey, we can't all be perfect, let's be friends, after all, just be glad the case didn't happen in Texas. Former Governor Bush would've fried that sucker.

Harlan's lawyer has argued that forensic pathologists as a group are "different" because they work odd hours and deal with human tragedy on a daily basis. From Frodo's recollection, such a grouping might also include firemen, social workers, grave diggers, bodyguards, dog catchers, actors, and the Senate Majority Leader, to name a few.

Harlan's lawyer also added that "These are not the kind of physicians who become family practitioners or millionaire specialists." It should be noted that there has been a marked increase in the numbers of people studying to become Medical Examiners. Frodo thought that that was because the CSI series of hit TV shows had glorified the job. Perhaps Mr. Harlan's lawyer is on to something after all. Tort reform, remember, means that punitive damages can not exceed $350,000 for a non-working spouse who dies because of negligence or incompetence. Frodo wonders if becoming a Medical Examiner under these circumstances may just be the most non-litigous liable profession in all of Middle Earth.

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 9:08 PM EDT

Updated: Tuesday, May 10, 2005 8:09 PM EDT

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Saturday, April 30, 2005

I'm Gonna Walk You Home
Mood:

spacey
Topic: "Run Forrest, Run"
Frodo has long admired the sheer innocence of the character Forrest Gump. It takes a special person to remain oblivious, and therefore innocent, in all the world. It also takes a certain determination to reach a goal, then to start back and repeat the accomplishment. Innocent determination is what the Australians call, according to Crocodile Dundee, "walkabout."

Jennifer Wilbanks, a resident of Gwinnett County, Georgia has recently experienced "walkabout." Gwinnett County it must be understood is the homeland of reactionary American life. It is the locale where Larry Flynt, the porno publisher, was shot and paralyzed by a still unidentified critic. It is one of the fastest growing counties in America, drawing predominantly Northeasterners tired of high taxes, liberal politics, and "those people." Gwinnett County has also been the largest political unit in America without public transportation. After all, without "those people," nobody needs to ride a bus anyway. Gwinnett County has the longest commute time of any suburban American community, and it is more than 85% Republican.

Frodo passed through Gwinnett County once, but he did not stop.

Anyway, back to Jennifer, a young bride-to-be currently in residence with the young man she was scheduled to marry this very day. It was reported several days ago that Jennifer had not returned from a morning jog. Since more than 600 guests had been invited to the wedding, containing we're told 14 bridesmaids, the disappearance of the bride-to-be did seem noticeable.

The media onslaught began, complete with prayerful on-camera moments by anxious friends and relatives, and picture after picture of the wide-eyed bride-to-be. Dear reader, please note use of the term "wide-eyed." Frodo means to tell you that this lady has eyes the size of golf balls. She stares back from a picture as if she has recently consumed three kilos of crack and a pound of sugar.
Soon the story caught the national press, and people everywhere began to think "Laci Peterson."

Frodo, however, smelled a Forrest Gump. This wide-eyed little representative of the Future Junior Leaguers of Gwinnett County did not have the moral courage to face up to the challenges before her, so she went "walkabout." She caught a bus to Las Vegas, and then thought better of that and high-tailed it to Albuquerque, New Mexico. Somehow she found a telephone (she'd evidently left her cell in the SUV) outside a convenience store, and she called home.

Then, to cover her little heinie, this miscreant alleged that she had been kidnapped. Error,error, error, danger Will Robinson (as Robby the Robot would say), for that now brought the FBI into the picture. Within four hours she admitted to the Special Agents, who had failed to provide George W. Bush with sufficient intelligence (as if anybody could),that she had told a little fib. Now she is heading home to be reunited with her friends, family, and fiancee as the County Sheriff announces that charges will not be filed.

Whoa, big fella! What if little Jennie had been one of "those people" and she had cashed a Social Security check for which she was not entitled? Frodo knows that the good people of Gwinnett County would be making an example of someone who breaks the law and causes the unlawful and unnecessary expenditure of public funds. Jennifer? Oh no, she's a Christian, we'll just forget about the hours and hours of investigative work. She might miss her Sunday School Class.

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 11:05 PM EDT

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Friday, April 29, 2005

Maybe We're Ragged and Funny
Mood:

vegas lucky
Topic: "Brother of the Ring"
Boromir and Frodo have known each other for more than 30 years. On the first day they called each other "Brother." Boromir was raised on a farm in Iowa, and it was always his dream to someday live that life again. His beef cattle farm lies just beyond the Shire in Rivendell. Not all his dreams have been achieved however, for the Viking Horde has never been more than Pretender for the Throne of Super Bowl.

Boromir has always shared Frodo's belief in Fellowship, and many hours have been spent reflecting on the price paid by those who sought to keep the Ring from Sauran. Some years ago, Boromir and the fair Galadriel journeyed to Eriador to holiday among the galleries and to walk the river known as Seine. Boromir enjoyed the Louvre for sure, but the train that ran to the Coast was too tempting for a Man of Gondor.

Frodo's friend entered the American Cemetery at Normandy, which stands above the beaches that hosted the massive invasion. "I walked among the stones in all their simple elegance, and the first one that caught my eye was a boy from Iowa," so said Frodo's friend. How striking that Frodo and Boromir would speak of one the age of our fathers as a "boy." How metaphysical a thought that that life had ended in youth as perhaps he were a son. How humbling the concept that in a prior existence, Frodo and Boromir may have fallen on that very plain.

A few days after the fighting ceased on those beaches, a correspondent from Indiana named Ernie Pyle wrote a dispatch about what he had seen. He wrote that amongst the refuse that cluttered his path he found a small Bible, and inside there was the name of an American soldier. Pyle carried the Bible with him as he walked for a half-mile or so. Then he stopped and laid the Bible back down in the sand. He wrote these words, "I don't know why I picked it up, and I don't know why I put it down."

Frodo has yet to walk that beach, in this life, but he shall. He will find the stone of that boy from Iowa. Frodo doesn't know why he feels that placing a small Bible at that spot is so important, but it is.

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 9:58 PM EDT

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Thursday, April 28, 2005

Bird, Bird, Bird is the Word
Mood:

lucky
Topic: "Black Gold, Texas Tea"
The last documented sighting of an Ivory-Billed Woodpecker took place before Frodo was born (it also occurred before the end of his Mother's first trimester, but that is a subject for another time). Last year, after a reported sighting, a team of scientists took off for the Atchafalaya River Basin in Louisiana to verify the existence of a creature believed to be extinct. That unsuccessful expedition has been supplemented by the documented sighting last month in the Cache River Wilderness in Eastern Arkansas.

Frodo has often thought about hiding places. When he was in school, roads leading away from the Shire were designated as "emergency escape routes" in the event of an atomic bomb threat. Today, those same roads are parking lots from one end to the other, and the solutions of fifty years ago now fall to the new, improved Department of Homeland Security. The collective future is quite bleak, even with duct tape and cellophane. If Frodo were an Ivory-Billed Woodpecker, he could fly to some remote location in search of refuge, but where?

The Atchafalaya Basin of Louisiana was a logical choice, until Huey Long built elevated roadways, allowing Texans to escape their little bit of living Hell. They brought their guns, their gas-guzzlers, and their children without necks to every available spit of dry land. No Ivory-Billed Woodpecker in his right mind would tarry in that vicinity.

Eastern Arkansas was a logical choice, basically because nobody ever heard of the place until some "red state partisan" started complaining about skullduggery at something called "Whitewater." Soon the area slipped back into anonymity, and that allowed the Ivory-Billed Woodpecker to set up housekeeping and commencing a search for ants, caterpillars, and other Ivory-Billed Woodpeckers who would not offend the sanctity of Marriage.

There remains a concern, however, and it involves those morons from Texas. It seems we've developed a shortage of fossil fuels, and we haven't felt sufficient priority to develop replaceable alternatives. Nearly every Wildlife refuge within spitting distance apparently sits atop a geologically undisturbed quart of crude oil. Our gallant leader, who just happens to hail from Texas, doesn't seem worried about the threat to a bird of any kind.

"Bird? Boy, we got birds all over Texas. There's Lady Bird, and there's Lynda Bird, and all sorts of birds, and we've drilled all over the place, and they don't seem at all bothered by the oil rigs."

Sigh, life would've been so much better today if the Alamo had been in Vancouver. Bush would be President of Canada.

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 8:52 PM EDT

Updated: Thursday, April 28, 2005 9:03 PM EDT

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