Thought for the day: I think that it is much more likely that the reports of flying saucers are the results of the known irrational characteristics of terrestrial intelligence than of the unknown rational efforts of extra-terrestrial intelligence. [Richard Feynman]
[morguefile]
So whattaya think? Are we... alone... in this universe, or are there other lifeforms out there somewhere... lifeforms who may have even paid our planet a visit upon occasion? It seems mathematically improbable that we humans are the only intelligent lifeforms in this endless universe. And yes, I do use the term intelligent rather loosely. I suspect that if we ever do make contact with other beings from outta this world, we're gonna get our comeuppance, and find out just how unintelligent we are.
Nonetheless, let's have a little fun by taking a look at some of the space alien hoaxes perpetrated over the years by some of our fellow earthlings, shall we?
[seniorark]
As far back as April Fool's Day, 1897, pranksters have been trying to dupe the public into thinking they saw a gen-u-ine UFO. On that day in Omaha, Nebraska, a couple guys launched a helium balloon with a burning wicker basket beneath, and allegedly spooked quite a few people.
[Okay, ya got me. I'm sure it didn't look anything at all like the balloon in the picture.] ☺
A couple weeks later, three boys in Dallas, Texas, soaked a cotton ball in kerosene and tied it to the leg of a turkey vulture. Alas, the pranksters got caught when the bird landed on their school's roof, and started a fire. Poor bird probably cooked his own goose. So to speak.
[morguefile]
In 1947, residents of Twin Falls, Idaho reported multiple sightings of a flying saucer. Then one agitated lady called the authorities, because she spotted the saucer embedded in her neighbor's yard, along with a long strip gouged in the dirt... obviously showing where the compact UFO (better gas mileage!) came in for a landing...
Or not.
Turned out to be the handiwork of four creative teenagers, who built their saucer with scraps: radio tubes, wires, an old phonograph, and discarded electrical parts. The boys said they were just having fun. Not their fault the town got so gosh-darned excited. Sheesh.
Also in 1947, in what was dubbed the Maury Island Incident, Harold Dahl claimed six flying doughnut-shaped discs flew over him when he was boating in the Puget Sound. He said one of those dastardly discs dared to spew molten metal, which killed his dog, and burned his son. Air Force investigators later ID'd the metal as scrap from a local factory, and Dahl admitted to the hoax. Said it was just a joke that got out of control. Let's hope he didn't kill his dog and burn his son to support his joke.
[morguefile]
Then there's THE big event of 1947. You know, the alleged spaceship landing in Roswell, New Mexico, near the area now known as Area 51. Everyone agrees that there's some hush-hush deeply secretive stuff going on there at those Air Force grounds, but did a spaceship crash there in Nevada in 1947? Were live aliens captured? Was one autopsied? Ooooh, could they still be there today?According to some ufologists, three months after the alleged crash in Roswell, President Truman formed a highly secret group called MJ-12, (short for Majestic-12) whose soul purpose was to investigate and recover alien spacecraft. Some also attribute this 1950 quote to him: I can assure you that flying saucers, given that they exist, are not constructed by any power on earth. Did he actually form that group, and say those words? Beats me. But quite a few other presidents, world leaders, and military figures have spoken up on the side of flying saucers. Jimmy Carter even claims to have seen one.
Okay, I'm gonna stop right here, and finish up with this topic next week. In the meantime, did you have a favorite space toy or show about space travel when you were a kid? Anybody remember the 1954-55 TV show Flash Gordon? Let's just say special effects weren't all that outta this world in those days, because if I remember right, in some shots, you could actually see the string holding the rocket in the air. (And I'm not sure, but the sound of the flames coming out its rear might very well have been provided by some guy saying, "Shhhhhhhhhhhh.") Even so, we watched it. And were amazed. And then there was the mighty Rocket Man, who worked hard to save the world in the '50s and early '60s. In this clip, you might hear a familiar voice. Would you believe... Leonard Nimoy?
Oh well, since we mentioned Leonard Nimoy, we've gotta give a nod to William Shatner, too, right? This clip is muuuuuch more recent; it's from 1978. He's kinda sorta singing. What else? Rocket Man, of course.
I was gonna stop there, but I decided to leave you with something... classy. Yeah, that's the ticket. I never saw the movie Rocket Man, but after seeing this clip, I wish I had. Looks like a real hoot. Or should I say... a blast?
I'm not gonna be outta this world, but I am gonna be outta my office until sometime next week, so I won't be responding to your comments right away. But as Schwartzeneggar said, I'll be Bach.
Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.
Thought for the day: Justice is truth in action. [Benjamin Disraeli]
EXTRA! EXTRA! [National Archives]
A couple years ago, I wrote a two-part post, Art and the Human Spirit, about the internment of Japanese-American citizens during WWII.Those posts focused on human resilience, but today's post is going to approach the internments from a different angle. From the angle of justice.
[courtesy of Karen Korematsu and the Korematsu Institute]
Fred Korematsu was one of many Japanese-Americans living on the west coast at the beginning of World War II, when President Roosevelt issued Executive Order 9066, which authorized the internment of all people of Japanese descent into what was euphemistically called relocationcamps. On May 3, 1942, General DeWitt ordered 120,000 Japanese-Americans to report to Assembly Centers six days later as a prelude to their incarceration.
[National Archives]
As American citizens, many of whom were born and raised in the United States, these men, women, and children considered themselves to be red-white-and-blue American patriots. They hung banners and signs from their businesses declaring their allegiance, but it didn't matter, because they couldn't change the way they looked.
Tanforan Assembly Center [National Archives]
Twenty-two-year-old Fred Korematsu and his family were to be transported to Tanforan Assembly Center, where they'd be kept in converted horse stalls until assigned and relocated to camp. But Fred didn't believe the government had the constitutional right to imprison its own citizens without benefit of trial, hearing, or filing of charges. So he didn't go.
Waiting to be taken to camp. [National Archives]
He was nabbed on May 30 for looking like a Jap while standing on an Oakland street corner, and on September 8, was convicted in federal court for defying the order to report for relocation. He received five years' probation... but was sent immediately to Tanforan. Then, like so many others, he was put on a train to his assigned internment camp.
Topaz, Utah camp [National Archives]
Like the rest of his family, he was incarcerated in a desolate camp in Topaz, Utah. There, he lived in a horse stall lit by a single light bulb. He said conditions were worse there than in the jails.
Other residents of the camp avoided him, because they considered him to be a troublemaker, and thought his defiance was wrong and disrespectful. He continued to believe in their constitutional rights, and in the American justice system, and he was sure he would find justice in the courtroom.
Supreme Court building [Wikipedia]
The ACLU used his case to test the legality of the WWII incarcerations, and after losing several appeals, his case made its way to the Supreme Court in 1944. There, in a 6-3 ruling, it was determined that your ethnic affiliation can predispose you to disloyalty if you're an American of Japanese descent, and that compulsory exclusion, though constitutionally suspect, is justified during circumstances of emergency and peril. But Korematsu didn't give up He continued to pursue his plea of innocence. A special commission formed byPresident Carter concluded in 1982 that the internment of Japanese-American citizens was a grave injustice based on race prejudice, war hysteria, and failure of political leadership.That same year, Professor Peter Irons uncovered evidence that the government's lawyers had withheld important information during Korematsu's 1944 Supreme Court hearing. In 1983, the U.S. District of the Northern District of California overturned Korematsu's conviction. Standing before the court, he said, I would like to see the government admit that they were wrong and do something about it so this will never happen again to any American citizen of any race, creed, or color. And, If anyone should do any pardoning, I should be the one pardoning the government for what they did to Japanese-American people.
In 1988, Congress apologized, and granted personal compensation of twenty thousand dollars to each surviving prisoner.
[photo credit: Dennis Cook]
President Clinton also presented Korematsu with the Presidential Medal of Freedom in 1988. Until his death in 2005, Korematsu continued to speak tirelessly on behalf of civil rights, and in 2004, in reference to the detainees at Guantanamo, he insisted, No one should ever be locked away simply because they share the same race, ethnicity, or religion as a spy or terrorist.
Since 2011, January 30 has been celebrated as Fred Korematsu Day... a day to remember him, and to honor his unwavering belief in civil liberties, justice, and the Constitution of the United States.
In the 1944 Supreme Court decision, in speaking for the dissenters, Robert Jackson said, The Supreme Court for all time has validated the principle of racial discrimination in criminal procedure and of transplanting American citizens. Andthat 1944 Supreme Court decision... still stands.
Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.
P.S. If you'd like to see the two earlier posts, you can find them by clicking on the Gaman tag in the sidebar.
Thought for the day: The other day when I was walking through the woods, I saw a rabbit standing in front of a candle making shadows of people on a tree. [Stephen Wright]
It's that time of year again. As I type this, it's March 20, the first official day of spring. HA! As if the calendar meant diddly squat to Mother Nature. I can tell you, without doubt, spring unofficially blustered into Georgia weeks ago.
Record high temperatures in the mid-eighties.
And wipe your eyes and blow your noses ...record high pollen counts coming atchoo, too. Yesterday hit a staggering 8164 particles per cubic meter of air, which tops the previous record by more than 2000. Believe me, that's nothing to sneeze at. So to speak.
Yep, it's deja-choo all over again. Atlanta is a beautiful place in the springtime, as long as you don't mind shoveling pollen and chewing every breath you take. Ah well. On a Claritan day, you can see forever. And on the bright side, I'm expecting the crime rate to plummet. Everybody's too busy sneezing to be bothered with criminal activites. And this is just the beginning. The calendar says so.
A couple weekends ago, my husband and I spent the day with our son and his family in Alabama. My daughter-in-law decided she wants to get each of the children a baby rabbit, so my hubby and son spent the day making a huge cage for them.
"Four rabbits?" I asked.
"Uh-huh," my DIL replied. "Three for the big kids, and one for me. When Devyn gets a little older, the fourth one will be hers."
"You planning on putting partitions in that cage?" I asked. "Y'know, to keep four from turning into forty?"
"Oh, no," my sweet naive DIL said. "We'll just get them all the same sex."
It isn't easy to differentiate baby bunny gender, but we'll see how well that turns out. As for me, I'm pollen for a happy outcome.
Okay, no more deja-choo or pollen nonsense, but how about a little deja-vu? Thinking about our grandkids and their soon-to-be pet rabbits reminded me of a post I wrote last April, entitled Lessons From a Killer Rabbit. I decided to toss it atchoo (sorry ... last time, I promise) again for those of you (most of you) who missed it the first time around:
Thought for the day: The Energizer Bunny was arrested. He was charged with battery,
Got an early wake-up call of the wild this morning.
You're nobody 'til somebody loves you.
It was a woodpecker, imitating a miniature jack hammer on the tree outside our bedroom window. His serenade only lasted for about fifteen minutes, but his presence reminded me of another wacky woodpecker who spent the entire summer here some years back. In fact, he was here so much we gave him a name. We called him Clem.
Now, I've been told that male woodpeckers pound out their jazzy rhythms in the early hours of the morning in order to attract a mate. Don't know it that's entirely true or not, but let's say that it is. And if it is, poor old Clem was sorrowfully unlucky in love.
Because he didn't just show up and rat-a-tat for fifteen minutes just before the sun came up. Oh, no. Clem was an industious and rather desperate suitor, and showed up several hours before daybreak, and rat-a-tatted his heart out for one or two hours every morning. On trees. On the gutters. On a fiberglass canoe. If it wasn't moving, our little visitor took a whack at it. If nothing else, he was persistent. But, alas, I don't think he ever found love. He eventually stopped coming around, but I fear the crumpled zig-zag beak he must have had held little appeal for the fairer sex.
Back to this morning. After the woodpecker finished his drum solo, the cats took over. If you have cats, I'm sure you're familiar with the routine. There's the piling-on game, the nose-rubbing and purring-in-your-ear game, the patty-cake game, and let us not forget the rousing round of king of the mountain, where you, of course, are the mountain. All designed, of course, to get their staff out of bed and into the kitchen.
I took all of this as an omen that it was time to write another blog about lessons I've learned from our pets. We've already talked a little bit about cats in the past, and about fish, but today, we're going to talk about rabbits.
Let me preface the lessons learned with a lesson of a different kind, a history lesson. About Jimmy Carter and the killer rabbit.
In 1979, President Jimmy Carter went fishing in Plains, Georgia. While out in his row boat, enjoying a peaceful respite from the White House, his serenity was shattered by a rabbit and a pack of dogs. The dogs were doing what dogs do. They were chasing the rabbit. But this rabbit didn't do what one would expect a rabbit to do. This rabbit jumped into the water, hissing and gnashing its teeth, and swam towards the president's boat. Though the president said he didn't have any experience with out-of-control animals, he successfully shooed it away by splashing water at it with a paddle. As you can imagine, if you don't already remember the incident, the media had a field day. "President Attacked by Killer Rabbit" was a common headline around the country. Late night comics took the story and ran with it, and poor President Carter became a laughing stock. If you do a google search now, you can actually find pictures of the rabbit, and of President Carter shooing it away from his boat, but they weren't made available at the time. But I, for one, didn't need to see any pictures to believe the president's story, because I'm pretty sure we ended up with the spawn of that killer rabbit.
My daughter had a pet rabbit. It was a precious little bit of fur with a tiny pink nose when we first brought it home, but here are some of the lessons we learned from owning that rabbit:
Precious little bits of fur with tiny pink noses grow up to be big fat rabbits. With sharp claws.
All big fat rabbits do is eat and generate a big fat ton of hoodles.
Little girls don't like to clean up hoodles.
I don't like to clean them up, either.
Rabbits don't like you to put halters and leashes on them.
Rabbits have very sharp claws.
Once the halter and leash are attached, rabbits are lousy at taking walks. They hop. Very leisurely. Because they have to eat every green thing in sight. And, of course, drop hoodles.
Rabbits don't like you to take halters and leashes off of them.
Did I mention they have very sharp claws?
If he ever hopped away from home, (no such luck!) we would have been able to find him quite easily. Hansel and Gretel had nothing on him. He could leave a steady two-mile trail of turds.
Here's the funny part. The mountain of rabbit poop that critter generated was useless as fertilizer.
I don't remember what our daughter called that rabbit. Something cutesie like Fluffy. But after a few weeks of shoveling his poop, I started calling him Hoodles, and that stuck. Oh, and on second thought, maybe he wasn't related to President Carter's rabbit, after all. When we tossed him into the lake, he didn't swim.
Just kidding. We ended up donating him to the Yellow River Game Ranch, where he lived out the rest of his life with a bunch of other rabbits, eating, generating hoodles, and ... um... multiplying.
Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other. Oh, and I know some people have rabbits that make wonderful pets. My sister-in-law had one. Ours, however, wasn't the cuddly type. And I might have mentioned? He had very sharp claws.
+++
No trees were killed in the sending of this message. However, a large number of electrons were terribly inconvenienced.
+++
I hope you enjoyed the re-run. For some reason, the song Doing What Comes Naturally is running through my head. Maybe because rabbits typically do a LOT of what comes naturally? Maybe we'll get lucky. Maybe our grandchildren's bunnies will be all the same sex. Or maybe doing it won't be so natural to them at all.
Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.
Thought for the day: The Energizer Bunny was arrested. He was charged with battery,
Got an early wake-up call of the wild this morning.
You're nobody 'til somebody loves you.
It was a woodpecker, imitating a miniature jack hammer on the tree outside our bedroom window. His serenade only lasted for about fifteen minutes, but his presence reminded me of another wacky woodpecker who spent the entire summer here some years back. In fact, he was here so much we gave him a name. We called him Clem.
Now, I've been told that male woodpeckers pound out their jazzy rhythms in the early hours of the morning in order to attract a mate. Don't know it that's entirely true or not, but let's say that it is. And if it is, poor old Clem was sorrowfully unlucky in love.
Because he didn't just show up and rat-a-tat for fifteen minutes just before the sun came up. Oh, no. Clem was an industious and rather desperate suitor, and showed up several hours before daybreak, and rat-a-tatted his heart out for one or two hours every morning. On trees. On the gutters. On a fiberglass canoe. If it wasn't moving, our little visitor took a whack at it. If nothing else, he was persistent. But, alas, I don't think he ever found love. He eventually stopped coming around, but I fear the crumpled zig-zag beak he must have had held little appeal for the fairer sex.
Back to this morning. After the woodpecker finished his drum solo, the cats took over. If you have cats, I'm sure you're familiar with the routine. There's the piling-on game, the nose-rubbing and purring-in-your-ear game, the patty-cake game, and let us not forget the rousing round of king of the mountain, where you, of course, are the mountain. All designed, of course, to get their staff out of bed and into the kitchen.
I took all of this as an omen that it was time to write another blog about lessons I've learned from our pets. We've already talked a little bit about cats in the past, and about fish, but today, we're going to talk about rabbits.
Let me preface the lessons learned with a lesson of a different kind, a history lesson. About Jimmy Carter and the killer rabbit.
In 1979, President Jimmy Carter went fishing in Plains, Georgia. While out in his row boat, enjoying a peaceful respite from the White House, his serenity was shattered by a rabbit and a pack of dogs. The dogs were doing what dogs do. They were chasing the rabbit. But this rabbit didn't do what one would expect a rabbit to do. This rabbit jumped into the water, hissing and gnashing its teeth, and swam towards the president's boat. Though the president said he didn't have any experience with out-of-control animals, he successfully shooed it away by splashing water at it with a paddle. As you can imagine, if you don't already remember the incident, the media had a field day. "President Attacked by Killer Rabbit" was a common headline around the country. Late night comics took the story and ran with it, and poor President Carter became a laughing stock. If you do a google search now, you can actually find pictures of the rabbit, and of President Carter shooing it away from his boat, but they weren't made available at the time. But I, for one, didn't need to see any pictures to believe the president's story, because I'm pretty sure we ended up with the spawn of that killer rabbit.
My daughter had a pet rabbit. It was a precious little bit of fur with a tiny pink nose when we first brought it home, but here are some of the lessons we learned from owning that rabbit:
Precious little bits of fur with tiny pink noses grow up to be big fat rabbits. With sharp claws.
All big fat rabbits do is eat and generate a big fat ton of hoodles.
Little girls don't like to clean up hoodles.
I don't like to clean them up, either.
Rabbits don't like you to put halters and leashes on them.
Rabbits have very sharp claws.
Once the halter and leash are attached, rabbits are lousy at taking walks. They hop. Very leisurely. Because they have to eat every green thing in sight. And, of course, drop hoodles.
Rabbits don't like you to take halters and leashes off of them.
Did I mention they have very sharp claws?
If he ever hopped away from home, (no such luck!) we would have been able to find him quite easily. Hansel and Gretel had nothing on him. He could leave a steady two-mile trail of turds.
Here's the funny part. The mountain of rabbit poop that critter generated was useless as fertilizer.
I don't remember what our daughter called that rabbit. Something cutesie like Fluffy. But after a few weeks of shoveling his poop, I started calling him Hoodles, and that stuck. Oh, and on second thought, maybe he wasn't related to President Carter's rabbit, after all. When we tossed him into the lake, he didn't swim.
Just kidding. We ended up donating him to the Yellow River Game Ranch, where he lived out the rest of his life with a bunch of other rabbits, eating, generating hoodles, and ... um... multiplying.
Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other. Oh, and I know some people have rabbits that make wonderful pets. My sister-in-law had one. Ours, however, wasn't the cuddly type. And I might have mentioned? He had very sharp claws.
+++
No trees were killed in the sending of this message. However, a large number of electrons were terribly inconvenienced.
+++
