The Baboon Congress

Bigfoot, Anyone?

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Header photo: Statue of Bigfoot at tourist attraction near Silver Lake WA, CC by 3.0 via Wikipedia

Today’s post comes from Jim Tjepkema

Remer Minnesota has declared that it is the true home of Bigfoot and recently held a Bigfoot festival.  They claim that entire families of Bigfoot were seen in the area in the early days of the town.  It is thought that those families moved away when loggers thinned the woodlands out.  There is a blurry picture taken in 2009, and widely published, that claims to indicate Bigfoot is still found at least occasionally near Remer.

I doubt that anyone has seen a Bigfoot.  The blurry picture could be a fake.  Also, people who claim to have seen Bigfoot may have been mistaken or not truthful.  Where is the proof, expectable to scientists, that Bigfoot exists?   Is there anyone who can verify those stories that families of Bigfoot were seen near Remer many years ago?

On the other hand, is there any way of proving that Bigfoot doesn’t exist?

As an agricultural worker I heard of a number of practices and treatments that were recommended to farmers which were not supported by valid scientific research.   There were unsupported claims that farmers would be free of pest and disease problems if they used certain fertilizer programs.  In addition, a variety of untested cures were offered to solve existing problems.

Usually I was unable to get the farmers who were using untested practices and products to return to ones that were supported by proper testing.   The people who recommended those unproven practices and products had gained the trust of the farmers involved and they would hardly ever listen to me.   Anyway, how can you prove that something doesn’t work?   Practices that seem to run completely counter to those that are well established might be found to have value if the right kind of testing is used.

So, how do we know that Bigfoot doesn’t exist if that is true?  Maybe Bigfoot is very good at hiding making it extremely hard to get good evidence of their existence.   Is there a group of large creatures secretly living among us?  Given the state of the world today Bigfoot might have decided it is not wise to come out of hiding.

Have you seen Bigfoot?  

 

The Baboon Congress, Travel

Welcome to Canada

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Header photo: By Wing-Chi Poon (Port of Piegan Border Station, Montana, USA) [CC BY-SA 2.5 via Wikimedia Commons

Today’s post comes from Barbara in Robbinsdale

There is a Canadian island in the province of Nova Scotia that is hoping that Donald You-know-who becomes President of these United States. It is the island of Cape Breton, and although this all started as something of a joke by DJ Rob Calabrese, it turns out “People are showing a serious interest in moving here. … Get your affairs in order. That way, the day after the election you’ve got everything all settled.”

Cape Breton is looking for more residents to help shore up a depressed economy. There is affordable housing, sometimes right on the water, with gorgeous views. There is high demand in the medical field and technology, and opportunities for entrepreneurs. Canada is colder, true, but there are perks if you manage to get through all the red tape: “government-funded health care, education and investment incentive schemes”.

According to an article from the Las Vegas Review-Journal:            “Americans have a history of pledging to move to Canada during fierce elections. But the phenomenon has hit a fever pitch thanks to GOP frontrunner Donald Trump. …There was similar buzz when George W. Bush started his second term in 2005. But there’s little evidence that many Americans actually followed through.”

This year could be different. Here is an article that gives you the nuts and bolts of what the requirements look like if you get serious about fleeing north, complete with their approximate costs.

And for a few of the differences between the U.S. and Canada (as perceived by a Canadian, at any rate), this one from Glossy News is enlightening.

 

What would it take for you to get serious about moving to another country?

Poems, Science

The Flooding Room Scenario

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A new projection suggests that if carbon emissions continue unabated, massive ice melt and expanding oceans will threaten coastal communities on a global scale.  I’ve you’ve been paying attention to this, the advent of a new  prediction that there is a huge climate calamity on the way is something that could have totally been predicted.

The relentlessly regular release of dire news into our environment makes me think of that Hollywood movie scenario where the heroes are trapped in a sealed room that is slowly but inexorably filling with water.

When I mentioned this to Trail Baboon’s resident poet, the relentlessly rhyming but terrifyingly simplistic Tyler Schuyler Wyler, he immediately retreated to his frosty garret. Within hours he had calved off a chunk of doggerel so massive, it could support its own family of penguins.

The doorway clicked shut. There was no pathway out
For the windowless chamber was small.
With a single intrusion. A lone data spout
trickled estimates out of the wall.

Global temperature readings dripped into the room,
Dire missives of gases and soot.
As more studies leaked out of this pipeline of doom
I began to think we were kaput.

There was rapid decay in a glacial ice sheet.
caused by currents a fraction too warm.
As the science gushed in I was swept off my feet,
treading data in silent alarm.

As I floated and flailed in this wave of research
it rose quickly with every new proof.
Not a foothold or ledge. Not a grab bar or perch.
Just my head, and hot air, and the roof.

How I prayed for a hatch or a door or a drain.
A release valve to lessen the flood
of alarming insights swirling around in my brain
of a someday submerged neighborhood.

So the moral is “think harder while you can choose
to do things that will lessen the tide.”
Don’t get trapped in a room filling up with bad news
That you wish that you were not stuck inside.

How do you manage your intake of discouraging news?

Uncategorized

Ask Dr. Babooner

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We are ALL Dr. Babooner

Dear Dr.Babooner,

I’m a World Leader who has worked pretty hard to get to where I am – an elite figure who is leading part of the world – thus my title.

But when I say that I “worked pretty hard,” that might mean I cheated a bit and took advantage of some good fortune that was none of my doing. I may also have stepped on a few people and connived a little, financially speaking. Nothing too out of the ordinary for a human primarily interested in his own survival.

We’re all familiar with the standard weaknesses of our species.

Anyway, I have reason to believe a good number of my misdeeds have been documented in the so-called “Panama Papers” that are being combed over and slowly released by an international team of journalists who apparently take no small amount of delight in humiliating people like myself.

There is a remarkably vast trove of documents associated with this, the largest leak in the history of tattling. It is so big and it affects so many people, I’m hopeful that my crimes may not seem so bad when compared to the sins of people even more powerful and more famous than me.  For that reason alone, I’m inclined to wait it out even though my wife says we should sell everything and leave the country immediately.

Dr. Babooner, millions of the unwashed masses are already saying I’m crooked. I love my wife but I don’t want to validate that suspicion by cutting and running, even though it kills me to just sit around right now pretending that nothing is wrong.

What should I do?

El Presidente

I told El that he (she?) has nothing to worry about if the slow release of these Panama Papers drags on through the summer. Come September, it’s likely that the soap opera story of the November American election will Trump all other news and his (her) crimes will be completely forgotten in light of much greater and more showy offenses.

But that’s just one opinion. What do YOU think, Dr. Babooner?

The Baboon Congress

Baboon Redux – One of a Kind

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All eyes are on our neighbor to the east on this political primary day. In honor of all the stubborn, sensible and surprisingly progressive Wisconsinites going to the polls, I bring back part of a post written by gentle baboon Steve Grooms several years ago.

US Highway 2 cuts across northern Wisconsin, running east and west. It’s a famous road. Not famous is the tiny town of Oulu, which lies just north of US 2. If you want to go to Oulu, you drive a bit east of Brule to Oulu Rock and follow the big blue arrow on it to Oulu.
Oulu was created and is mostly inhabited by folks of Finnish ancestry. They have names like Aho, Lampinen, Kohlemeinen, Reinikainen and so forth. The town doesn’t have much going for it. Its one unusual feature is a glass-blowing gallery. Other than that, Oulu is another tiny unincorporated Wisconsin town just like a thousand other such tiny towns.

And yet there is one other distinctive thing, something in which Oulu’s residents take great pride: the Oulu Rock.

A very long time ago, people needed a way to spot that little road that runs north from Highway 2 to Oulu. Citizens of Oulu placed a large rock at the intersection and painted the rock white and blue, the colors of the Finnish flag. And they painted “Oulu” in large letters, with an arrow to point the way.

Not long ago, the Wisconsin Highway Department informed the folks of Oulu that their rock had to go. Highway design specifications require the erection of a standard highway sign to point the way to Oulu.

The highway bureaucrats were unprepared for the ferocity of Oulu’s response. They didn’t want no frickin’ highway sign and they didn’t need one because they already had a frickin’ rock. Almost nobody ever wants to go to Oulu, to tell the truth, and if they do want to go they probably know the way already! The Finns of Oulu told the highway department folks just where they could stick their standard highway sign.

The highway department countered with all the predictable arguments. They argued for the virtues of standardization. They said a reflective sign would be easier to read than a rock. They said they operated under mandates from the legislature and didn’t have the power to make an exception like this. They said The Law demanded that Oulu accept a highway sign. End of argument.

Cynics say you can’t beat city hall, but Oulu beat the Wisconsin Highway Department. Civic pride and Finnish obstinacy crushed the bureaucrats and their boring laws. When Highway 2 was widened recently, the Wisconsin Highway Department even helped move the rock a few feet north. And it is there today, proudly pointing the way to Oulu.

No other town in Wisconsin has what Oulu has. There are a thousand unincorporated villages in the state, but only Oulu has a highway rock. It is one of a kind.

What is YOUR “Oulu Rock”?

The Baboon Congress, Uncategorized

Pillow Fight

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Today’s post comes from Renee in North Dakota

Whenever our children come home to visit at the same time, I have to scramble to make certain that there are enough bed pillows to keep everyone happy.  We have a saying in our family “A well made bed is a work of art”, and that means a minimum of two goose down pillows for each head. Son once had six pillows on his bed, and daughter would have that many if I would purchase more for her. I notice that bed pillows start disappearing from our bed when the children visit, until husband and I are left with one apiece. Then we steal them back. I have been known to take my pillows with me on the road because you can never find a good pillow in most hotels.

This pillow obsession is my maternal grandmother’s fault. Omie prided herself on giving each grandchild two, made-to-order, goose down pillows upon the occasion of their marriage. She had a goose connection in a neighbor woman (a Mrs. Flanagan, I think) and made the pillows herself. She asked each recipient their preferences for pillow thickness and whether they were side, back, or stomach sleepers. My mom had many Omie pillows, and I grew up expecting my pillows to be soft and wonderful . My husband and children expect the same.

We also have down comforters on each bed, and daughter asked for a down mattress pad for her birthday this year. She insisted that we give her best friend a down comforter as a high school graduation gift.  Friend says it is like sleeping under a cloud.

I don’t go in for decorative pillows, just fat and soft standard size bed pillows with plain white pillowcases. A good night’s sleep is important, and I think that good bedding is a sensible investment.  I would rather have good bedding than fancy cars or boats or jewelry or any of the other things people buy to spoil themselves. It is just a good thing no one here is allergic to feathers.

Describe the perfect pillow.

 

Songs, The Baboon Congress

The Cruel War

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Photo of Frances Clalin Clayton By Samuel Masury – Public Domain

Today’s post comes from Barbara in Robbinsdale

Last Sunday I came upon this article in the Minnesota History segment of the Mpls. Star Tribune – it’s about a St. Paul woman, Frances Clalin Clayton, who followed her husband into the Civil War in 1861, pretending to be his brother. Frances saw her husband killed a few paces in front of her during fighting in Tennessee – “charged over his body… driving the rebels with the bayonet.” There are varying reports of how her identity was ultimately revealed.

After Frances was discharged, she lost her papers and money to Confederate guerrillas on a train, and apparently spent some of her remaining life trying to collect money she was owed for her and her husbands’ service.

To maintain a convincing masculine identity, “Frances Clayton took up all the manly vices. To better conceal her sex, she learned to drink, smoke, chew, and swear. She was especially fond of cigars. She even gambled, and a fellow soldier declared that he had played poker with her on a number of occasions.”  —DeAnne Blanton and Lauren M. Cook, They Fought Like Demons, 2003

I was immediately reminded, as I read the article, of two songs that were surely played on TLGMS (the late, great Morning Show, the radio program that brought many of us to this blog).

  1. From Peter Paul and Mary’s version of The Cruel War:                        I’ll tie back my hair,                                                                                                       men’s clothing I’ll put on                                                                                           I‘ll pass as your comrade,                                                                                                as we march along                                                                                                           I’ll pass as your comrade                                                                                                 no one will ever know                                                                                           Won’t you let me go with you?                                                                                   No, my love, no

  1. And a traditional song, though not about the Civil War, was sung by Sally Rogers on her first album The Unclaimed Pint: “(When I Was) A Fair Maid”, lyrics here.

For what event have you been willing to “cross-dress”?

 

Movies, News

R.I.P. Patty Duke

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The untimely and unfortunate  death of award-winning performer Patty Duke at the age of 69 will lead many baby boomers to remember her 1960’s TV series, “The Patty Duke Show”.

Or more exactly, it will lead many to remember the one of the most effectively earwormy theme songs ever to plague mid-century television.   I don’t remember anything specific from the  stories or the characters – just this opening ditty.

But Duke had  intelligence and determination, and those qualities earned her a level of respect far beyond what one might gain from starring in a simple TV comedy.    Only after reading her obituary did I get a sense for the many personal obstacles she faced, or glimpse what she did,  as a teenager, with the Oscar-winning role of Helen Keller in The Miracle Worker.

That’s an amazing performance, and an admirable life.

What milestone had you reached at age 16? 

 

Family, The Baboon Congress

A Parade of Names

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Today’s post comes from Renee in North Dakota 

I have been doing ancestor research on an on-line genealogical service preparatory to our May trip to Europe. We are travelling to Bremen, where my maternal grandparents were born, and then to Scotland, where husband’s mother’s family originated. I realize that the details of much of this research are purely conjectural , as following one thread may take you to Robert the Bruce, while another, equally possible thread just peters out into oblivion. You can never be sure if you have the right ancestor.

What has been most interesting is finding out where they generally were and  when they immigrated to the US, since that can fuel the imagination as to what their lives may have been like if you have some knowledge of the history of their times. Husband’s  family were solidly Scots-Irish Presbyterians, some of whom immigrated from Scotland to Northern Ireland in County Tryone and County Antrim very early, and then left there for the Colonies in 1690.  Others stayed in Northern Ireland as coal miners until 1870, when they went back to Scotland to work in the coal mines around Glasgow.  Husband’s great great grandfather Carson died in a mine cave-in in 1878. The Scottish Mine Disaster website was quite helpful identifying the very pit in which he died. We hope to visit the are on our trip. We don’t know if his body was ever recovered. His children immigrated to Ohio and West Virginia and worked in coal mines and steel mills. Some things don’t change that easily.

Family names have been fun to find. My father’s Friesland family has first names like Weert, Okke, and Freerk. The  Scots have names like Alexander, Robert, James, Margaret, Andrew, and Jennie. My mother’s Bremen family, all solidly Saxon, has common German names like Wilhelm, Herman, Christian, Metta, Greta, Johan, Anna, Sophie, and Otto.  My favorite family last name is Hellwinkel.

We aren’t travelling to Stuttgart to see where husband’s German family comes from (they raised sheep, so I guess you could call them German shepherds), but it was in that family tree I found another favorite name-that of poor Walburga Merkle. Oh, how fun it wold be to see her, to know if her name was considered beautiful or odd, to know what her life was like.

Husband said that, perhaps, in five hundred years people will be excited to find they are related to us. I don’t know about that, but doing this research really impressed me with the randomness of our very existence and how strange nature or chance or divine influence has led each of us to be who we are.

Your future relatives are listening, 500 years hence.  Why should they be excited to learn that they are linked to you?  

Uncategorized

Baboon Redux – Earth at Night

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Today’s post was first offered by Captain Billy of the Muskellunge in December of 2012.

Ahoy!

Me an me boys is mighty pleased t’ see that them scientists at NASA is finally startin’ t’ look at th’ planet Earth through pirate eyes! They has just released brand new detailed pictures of our world after dark, wi’ the sparlklin’ lights of th’ cities glowin’ fer all t’ see!

There’s lots of bright spots, an that gives us hope!

Dividin’ th’ light from th’ dark is th’ same method me an’ me boys uses t’ tell the th’ planet’s booty-rich zones from them what don’t have much booty at all. When we’s sailin’ down th’ coast, deliberatin’ about where t’ go scavengin’ next, we always heads t’ th’ light. Just like yer sposed to do in them dreams about dyin’.

An when we arrives at th’ next happy, well-lit place wi’ our daggers drawn, th’ people is always surprised on account of they didn’t notice us comin’ – they was blinded by their own glare. That there’s somethin’ t’ keep in mind on a planet-wide level.

Our Earth is mighty special-lookin’ from afar – quite attractive t’ interstellar swashbucklers.

I ain’t sayin’ there’s space pirates.

But I ain’t sayin’ there ain’t.

The twinklin’ lights is pretty at night. But if you wants t’ keep th’ peace, best t’ always draw yer blinds an’ sleep wi’ one eye open!

Yer seafarin’ pal,
Capt. Billy

I suppose the Captain has a point – when I go on a nigh time walk, I notice  some houses  carefully draw the blinds and others are less private, challenging passers by to be  polite and look away.

Are you polite?