Uncategorized

Hobby Farm

44 Comments

Today’s post comes from disgraced former journalist Bud Buck.

People often ask me to explain how, as a one-time newsboy poster child and respected radio anchor, I became a disgraced former journalist. I always tell them if they’ll simply sweeten my palm with a $20, the story is theirs. Sometimes it works.

Newsboy

The short version is this – it became so difficult to manage all the true information that was in the world, as a self defense mechanism I started to make things up. It worked for a while and I began to see my job as a form of self-expression. It didn’t hurt to lie so much when I remembered that it really was all about me!

And now the rickety tower that was once the institution of American journalism is approaching total collapse with word that a famous newspaper with a storied tradition will be purchased by a very rich guy who needs a new toy to play with. And yes, I just ended a sentence with a preposition. That’s how dead good writing is! Deal with it!

Jeff Bezos, the CEO of Amazon, bought the Washington Post for 250 million dollars. It’s not a takeover by Amazon because Bezos, one of the world’s wealthiest men, is buying it as an individual.

And yes, he got free shipping!

Bezos is famous for focusing on “the customer experience.” I can only guess that his experience as a Washington Post buyer was satisfactory, though I guess I’ll have to wait for the customer review to be certain. But one thing you won’t have to wait for is the pundit review. People who write opinions for a living have fallen on this story like a family of bears on the last picnic basket in the woods. They are tearing it apart because it features all the things they love – journalism, money, and … well, that’s about it.

My opinion hardly matters in all this, except to me. And that’s the point! This is the next logical step in the total disintegration of communications. Every person is now his or her own media empire. I suspect Jeff Bezos bought the Washington Post because he didn’t have time to start his own blog. Look for someone richer to step up soon to buy The New York Times, and someone wealthier still to snap up CBS, NBC and finally Trail Baboon. Then it’s a total free-for-all!

Someday soon, when every news source is a vanity project beholden to a single personality, we will all be so busy filtering and interpreting information we won’t have time to actually know anything. And when that day comes, I won’t waste your time with an “I told you so.”

Instead, I’ll say “Welcome to my world.”

This is Bud Buck!

Who do you trust?

Uncategorized

Deep In The Weeds

55 Comments

Speaking of working steadily at a task that feels endless (as we were yesterday), I have been slowly making my way around the yard hand-weeding some planting beds that have been allowed to go to seed.

The original plan was to keep these areas heavily mulched and carefully tended to provide some space where flowers, ornamental grasses, trees and bushes could thrive. And at first, that’s how it worked. But over time the mulch dissolved (as expected) and while I was looking the other way, the beds have filled in with misshapen, spiky intruders from Mars.

I could go after the invaders with a noxious chemical cocktail, but that’s a solution for cowards. I need to confront the weeds personally, face to frond. Besides, there is always a risk that any foliage killer I spray on unwanted greenery will drift off and murder the more upstanding flora I’m trying to protect. I suppose it’s like keeping a loaded gun in the house. With very little effort you can do more damage than the threat you armed yourself against at the beginning.

These photos show you the scope of the task.

Backyard Vengeance Tour – the results

My approach is simple and brutal. I drop to my knees and claw at the Earth with a three pronged hook held in my right hand. As the soil is loosened I grab the weed with my left hand and toss it into a bucket. Then repeat, repeat, repeat. If it sounds “old school”, you’re right. This is basically the technique our prehistoric ancestors used to spiff things up around the entrances to their caves. I flung myself at the problem for several hours straight on Saturday, all the while wondering what possible good could come of it.

In the sandy areas, scurrying ants reproached me for destroying their cities. I tried to explain that I was down here with them because I was withholding my support from Monsanto, but the ants were too busy running in panic to pay me much mind.

I continued to dig. After an hour, I found it very difficult to stand up straight. After two hours, I had a sense that if I suddenly keeled over, the weeds could reclaim everything before I was cold.
Weeding must be the opposite of teaching. You can see immediate results, but you can be pretty certain your work will have absolutely no effect at all on the future.

To which pointless chore have you given too much of your time?

Uncategorized

1,000 Bottles of Beer

82 Comments

This is post number 1,000 on Trail Baboon, all written by me or as guest entries by various baboons.

I’m exhausted, and proud. The total overall number is a convenient landmark because all I have to do is count the guest posts to know that TB is an amazing 16.4% reader-written.

beerwall

That’s better than the New York Times, by far.

It didn’t seem very long ago that we observed reaching the landmark of post number 500. That was an achievement, but this is better. I would almost say it’s exactly twice as good.

And so through stubbornness, determination, or simply as a result of habitual behavior and lacking the creativity to do anything different, we have moved into 4-digit territory, post-wise. And one of the things that sets blogging apart from books or a pile of paper newspapers is that all the writing we’ve done remains online for people to stumble across as if it had just appeared – fresh and new to each set of eyes that beholds it for the first time as long as they don’t look at the date or read any of the obsolete references included in the text.

That’s a form of immortality, isn’t it? Or longevity, at least?

And taken together, one could argue that we’ve collaborated to write a very long book that is “scattered and unfocused in subject and style, featuring a variety of occasionally compelling and sometimes incomplete characters drawn with varying degrees of skill.”

I put that line in quotes because I’m pretty sure someone’s actual book has been reviewed that way.

If you measure success in terms of readership, as opposed to simply counting raw numbers of posts, you would have to say Trail Baboon is consistent but certainly not growing.
Here’s a screen shot of our monthly readership statistics since January, 2011. We appear to get between 60 and 90 visitors a day, with each reader refreshing the page 4 to 7 times.
That adds up and it starts to look like a lot when you view it on a monthly basis, but in truth our community is rather small. But loyal!

Remarkably, our total numbers for the month of July 2011 and July 2013 were almost exactly the same though two years apart – 13,096 vs. 13,094.

Screen Shot 2013-08-03 at 8.47.16 AM

At any rate, congratulations, Baboons. Our achievement puts me in mind of a classic anthem sung by high-achievers throughout time:

One Thousand Bottles of Beer On The Wall,
One Thousand Bottles of Beer!
Take One Down, Pass it Around.
Nine Hundred Ninety Nine Bottles of Beer on The Wall.

Nine Hundred Ninety Nine Bottles of Beer on the Wall,
Nine Hundred Ninety Nine Bottles of Beer!
Take one down …

How do you pace yourself to reach a distant goal?

The Baboon Congress

Lick Your Wounds

66 Comments

Today’s guest post comes from Steve Grooms.

Let’s imagine that life has beaten you up lately, and now you hurt. Maybe the Powers That Be at your office decided to erase a favorite application off all the hard drives and force you to learn a new one. Maybe someone said something unkind when you were at a vulnerable moment. Or—if you are like me—maybe you said something incredibly stupid, or you sent out a tasteless group email that you desperately would like to suck back now.

Band-Aid_close-up

For many of us, taking one of life’s little blows isn’t a great challenge. But sooner or later you are going to experience a cluster of indignities in a short span of time. Maybe you clash with your teenager and then have a flat tire on the way to work. Maybe you try on last year’s pants and find you can’t even get the zipper up now, as you have supersized your butt, and a day later you learn your taxes are going to be audited.

Just imagine that you are hurting. You need to do something profoundly comforting because you are stuck in a bad place. You need to lick your wounds.

What do you do?

Do you lose your pain by throwing yourself into company, maybe going to a party you’d hoped to avoid because now you know that forcing yourself to be social will fix what is wrong? Do you whip out your phone and call the one person on earth who will never let you down? Or are you more inclined to hide from the world, retreating into a quiet place where you surround yourself with things you trust to bring you peace of mind?

What activity will cure you now? Do you read? If so, what author or book can you trust to make you feel better? (This is a time I often re-read books from favorite authors.) Is there a particular location that will soothe you? What music will you put on, or do you prefer the purity of silence?

I am told that some folks can make themselves feel better if they dress up. Ha! My normal clothing is extremely unstylish. When I feel blue, I’m apt to lower my standards, going from a comfy sweatsuit to an OLD comfy sweatsuit that is so threadbare it would make a stranger worry whether I could afford my next meal.

Perhaps you turn to food if you need to feel better? What food? Something sweet? Something your mom used to cook? How ambitious do you feel when you are repairing a bad mood? Many folks turn to alcohol at such moments, and I don’t need to mention how risky that is!

Some folks know they can wash away a bad mood by soaking in the tub. Others go for a
run or take a long hike in a beautiful place. Some grab a dog and lose their pain by making the dog happy.

A woman friend was prone to depressions. Her cure was to clean her home. When Beth was down she would grab a vacuum cleaner and suck all the dirt out of her environment, running the machine nonstop for several hours at a stretch. If sufficiently disturbed, she would wash everything in her home “larger than a paper clip,” including the walls and the underside of furniture.

What do you do when you need to lick your wounds?

Uncategorized

A Sense of Achievement

34 Comments

Today’s post comes from Congressman Loomis Beechly, representing all the water surface area in the State of Minnesota.

beechly-speech

Greetings Constituents!

As your elected Representative, I wanted to take a moment before my Summer Break begins to thank each one of you for the calls you’ve made and the mail you’ve ee’d about the work of our 113th Congress! I agree with all of you on everything you said, and every single concern you expressed is my number one priority! And I know that many of my colleagues in the House feel exactly the same way about all their constituents too.

In the end, politics is pretty simple. We just want to be loved. And how do you show someone you love them? You listen, and do what you’re told, of course!

I’m not using that as an excuse, but it does help explain why we in Congress are currently having a hard time getting things done. Face it – you’re confusing!

I’m not saying it’s your fault, because that would get me in even more trouble. But maybe you should look at this in a different way. Right now, with multi-tasking being All The Rage, we have to ask ourselves if we in Congress are setting a good example for the busy people of this great nation.

So many Americans are trying to squeeze more productivity out of each and every minute, you can’t blame them for feeling overwhelmed and under appreciated! There is simply too much to do, and no one is speaking against the urge to do even more. Why? Because no one has that kind of time! And as long as productivity stays high, there’s no reason for employers to even consider hiring the laid-off millions who are exhausting themselves daily in a fruitless search for work.

That’s where we, your elected Representatives, come to the rescue.

As leaders, our task right now is to lead the American workforce towards acceptance of a bigger and better standard of idleness. We are aggressively doing nothing in excellent style while eating great food and wearing nice clothes. And we’re doing it for an unselfish reason – to show you what real recreational non-productivity looks like. When I’m home in my district, I model this by fishing all day. Here in Washington, I have to show it by talking endlessly about nothing in particular and reaching no compromises of any kind. It’s like fishing, but without the catch. I just release, constantly.

Only by doing this can I make it safe for you to begin to relax and to stop multi-tasking. Because no matter how lazy and worthless you become, you can be certain that your existence is still not as pointless as that of your Congressman.

So the next time some sourpuss points out that the House has accomplished practically nothing this session, I hope you’ll do what I would do – respond with a smile, a nod, a word of gratitude, and a nap.

Your Congressman,
Loomis Beechly

How productive are you?

Uncategorized

Lousy Little Leaker

35 Comments

Although I never quite made it to the Bradley Manning level, I’ve been a leaker most of my life for all the wrong reasons. It’s not that I believe in truth or justice or transparency – I just want a little attention. That’s why, one night at the dinner table when I was eleven years old, I cagily revealed to my older brother that he was going to find a Matchbox Car in his birthday haul the next day, but I was not going to tell him which one in the set he was going to receive.

Jaguar

This, I thought, would give me supreme power over him.

Naturally, my mother was outraged that I had betrayed her confidence. I was sent to my room immediately, forced to skip desert.

At the time, I didn’t quite understand the outrage. We each had accumulated a ton of the tiny metal cars, so getting another one was not that big a deal. Which model though? That was the key (as any collector would understand), and I was keeping that significant detail to myself. He would be tormented to have to spend the night knowing there was a new vehicle in his stable and wondering which one it was, praying and hoping it would be the Jaguar XKE when I knew full well it was the Ford Galaxie Police Cruiser. Not only would he spend the night in agony, his morning would be poisoned by disappointment.

Police_cruiser

No actual harm done. What’s the problem?

But in my mother’s mind, I had spoiled her surprise, and I played Edward Snowden to her Lindsey Graham. If she’d had access to the worst gateway lounge in a Russian airport, she would have marooned me there forever, or at least until I apologized to everyone in our family minus the dog.

Which was odd, considering that a few months later the dog was the one who would eventually wind up with that Matchbox Car firmly in his mouth – an unsatisfying substitute for a bone on a dreary, nothing-happening day.

When have you spilled a big secret?

Uncategorized

Needy Pet

32 Comments

Today’s post comes from perennial sophomore Bubby Spamden, still of Wendell Wilkie High School.

Hey Mr. C,

My summer has been really awful because I still don’t have a real job and all the rain we had in the spring led to a huge crop of mosquitoes AND weeds, and since I’m not doing anything during the day anyway my mom told me I have to go clean out the garden while she’s at work.

Bummer. I’m getting chewed to bits!

I complained to my dad but he said I should take the energy I put into whining and use it to do something productive, even if I don’t get paid for it. When I said “Like What?” he surprised me by saying “Like starting a blog!”

I didn’t even know he knew what a blog was! But since he said I should do it I’m starting to think maybe he’s got a point. I mean, how hard could it be? All you do is sit down and write down the thoughts that come into your head, right? I mean, it doesn’t have to be good or planned out in any way – it’s just a blog. But if you’re an undiscovered genius (like me) then maybe a gazillion people will start to read it and comment on it, and then you’ll become a superstar and a millionaire and you’ve got it made because as a blogger you don’t have to learn anything at all, ever! You just have to spend a little time in front of a screen every day being you … which is really the only thing I’m good at, anyway.

So the more I thought about it, the more excited I got about my own blog. In fact, I got so excited I actually went to look at YOUR blog, and wow, was I surprised!

Even though it takes no effort at all to write a blog, you’ve set it up so you do less than nothing! And Mr. Boozenporn said that less than nothing is an impossible value that one day he subbed for Ms. Pye in math class. He stuck to that story until Destiny Carmichael pointed out that there are negative numbers, which is something he forgot about.

Anyway, it’s so cool that you have other people writing it for you! And based on what I picked up from reading what Anna, Jim, tim, Renee, Jacque, Steve, Joanne, Sherrilee, Barbara, Edith and Donna were saying, you didn’t pay them a thing. Which is really too bad, because they’re good writers!

How do you get away with that? Isn’t it illegal? And isn’t it wrong to have your name up there on the masthead saying “… by Dale Connelly” when it really isn’t by you at all and you don’t even tell people who the real author is until the very first line after they open the post and look at it? I’d be kind of ashamed, and you know I’m hard to embarrass! I’m thinking that makes you kind of lazy, and unethical, which is really exciting because that’s just what my dad called me when I got caught cheating on homework last year, which just proves that blogging is perfect for me! I can’t wait to get started!

Just one question. Is there a limit on the number of exclamation points you get to use? I hope not!

Your pal,
Bubby

goldfish

I told Bubby there is nothing unethical about letting other people contribute posts for a blog, and there is also nothing to the popular myth that anybody can get rich and famous by writing one. Less than nothing, actually. I’m convinced the blog millionaires you read about are invented characters. Truth telling is not a very strong online value. In reality, having a blog is an obligation – like having a dog or a cat. You can get other people to take care of it every now and then, but regardless of who is doing the chores it needs attention every day. Or every other day, if it’s more like a hamster or a rat. And maybe every third day if it’s a goldfish. But if you’re less attentive than that, don’t be surprised if one day you go to write something for your blog and you find it floating upside down.

Write an apology to a pet you neglected.

The Baboon Congress

Christmas Newsletter

54 Comments

Today’s guest post comes from Donna.

belated-cat-humor-christmas-ecard-lg

July 17, 2103

Greetings Family and Friends,

School starts up again in less than a month so I decided now would be a good time to send out my (not a typo) Christmas cards. And because it’s been over ten years since I’ve sent cards, I’ve committed to a newsletter. And feeling like a fish out of water – which in my experience feels just as slippery as when it’s in the water – I’m following the advice from an online site called, Ten Tips For Writing a Holiday Newsletter, written by somebody named Richard, whose last name I can’t remember. So let’s get started!

1. Prepare your audience to be bored. No matter how hard I try, this letter will likely be a bit tedious and tiresome. However, the nap you take while reading it will improve your brain function, disposition and personality. Science says so.

2. Consider your readers. The conversation should include things you’d talk about if they were right there with you at your kitchen table. Since I don’t have a kitchen table, we’d be sitting on the floor amid the dust bunnies, chatting about whatever comes to mind, picking the occasional cat hair off our tongues.

3. Invite your children to contribute to the writing. I did, and they declined. All three of them.

4. Enjoy the process; don’t act like writing the letter is a duty or a chore. I’m here to tell you I’m having a ball! Anything to put off running the vacuum!

5. Be real. Mention setbacks as well as achievements. Well, let’s see …

Achievement: I joined a gym to qualify for reduced insurance premiums. Setback: I have to exercise to get the reduction. Achievement: I became a deacon at my church, which involves serving communion. Setback: Sometimes I have to go to church.

Achievement: After 35 years, next year I will retire from teaching. Setback: Yeah – I’m that old.

6. Avoid boasting. Indeed it can get irksome when people exaggerate about how talented, smart, successful, well traveled, and well groomed their cats are.

7. Don’t embarrass anybody. I remember our last family newsletter said something about middle child’s (then teenager) ever-changing hair color, and she did NOT see the humor. These days she sticks with her own lovely natural dark blonde. Granted, the upper body tattoos she acquired during college detract from the loveliness but that’s neither here nor there.

8. & 9. Read the newsletter aloud and proofread. I was as surprised as you are, dear Family and Friends, for the homework assignment. Please complete and turn it in by Monday. Apparently Richard So & So believes in graduation requirements.

10. Keep it short – one page or less. Leave enough space at the bottom for a brief handwritten personal note and/or a handwritten personal signature. I craftily included both elements in my closing. See below.

Until 2023,
IMG_0226

What do you do that is out of sync with the season?

The Baboon Congress

First Fruits

81 Comments

Today’s guest post comes from Edith.

On July 8, 2013, I tasted my first raspberry.

Well, not my first raspberry ever. Not even my first raspberry this year – that is, if you count frozen raspberries that you buy in a bag at the grocery store. It was the first raspberry I picked and ate in my backyard this year.

Fresh_raspberries

Last year, 2012, was very hot and very dry. I seemed to spend hours every week moving sprinklers around, trying to get enough moisture to my poor raspberry plants, as well as the herbs, currant and gooseberry bushes, and flowers. It didn’t work. Normally I get a nice summer crop of raspberries and a seemingly unending and unlimited supply of fall raspberries starting in late August or early September and continuing until November, unless there is a severe frost earlier. Last year, not only was I cruelly disappointed by my “crop” of black currants (a couple handfuls at most) and gooseberries (three. yes, three gooseberries), but the always-dependable raspberries did not do what they’ve always done. The summer crop was sort of okay, but the fall crop was small and pitiful. Normally what I put in the freezer lasts quite a few months, but the small amount I had last year was gone before Thanksgiving.

So today when I spied a few red berries, I picked them and popped them in my mouth.

Man! The sweetness! The flavor! Such a sweet and tangy, lush, juicy explosion of everything that makes a raspberry perfect.

There is nothing like a raspberry that you pick and eat while still warm from the sun (although the ones I pick on a nippy morning in late October might be even better). And looking at the amount of raspberries that are still green and hard, I should be enjoying them for a few weeks to come, until they take some time off, and then come back with even more abundance in the fall.

I look forward to the first taste of raspberries all winter and spring and today it was everything I had hoped for.

What’s your favorite fresh-picked food?

The Baboon Congress

Whaddaya Know?

64 Comments

Today’s guest post comes from Steve Grooms.

During most of my life, I have been trying to acquire the knowledge that would permit me to function as effectively as I want to. I learned years ago how to cook perfectly done hard-boiled eggs, for example. But that knowledge wasn’t original. I learned from others.

My search for knowledge took a strange turn when the internet became so central to how we live. Now it is usually not important to know much at all, if only you know how to tease answers from the internet with cleverly written Google search strings. It is still nice to know things, for you might not even know enough to do a search if you are totally clueless. And yet if you know just a little, you can get the rest from a computer.

It is obvious that we now live in a brave new world where knowing things isn’t all that important if you just know how to acquire knowledge. Are you a rotten speler? Well, all you really need to know is how to spell words well enough that your spell-checker can figure out what you meant to say. As I remember grade school, a lot of precious time was spent memorizing multiplication tables. Now I use my computer’s calculator to handle the most basic math, such as how old am I? Or how about the arcane calculations needed to divide up a luncheon check, with tips? It used to be that only a few people had that skill, and they might get invited to lunch a lot, but most folks can divide a check and figure the tips with apps on their telephones.

In spite of all of that, I think I’m aware of a few—very few—things I know that I learned all on my own and which might not known by anyone else. Unique knowledge. What a strange concept!

Years ago I worked out a technique for keeping celery in my fridge in great eating condition. Celery used to die a revolting death in the fridge before I got around to eating it. No more. (And I’m in such a generous mood, I’ll share this.) You buy a head of celery. It will come in a plastic bag that is shot through with little holes. Chop off some of the messy top material of the head, but then very carefully carve off a small slice at the base of the head (like you would cut the base of a Christmas tree before putting it up in a bucket of water). Tear off two or three paper towels and soak them in water. Wrap the celery head in the wet towels, then pop the whole mess back in that bag full of holes and store it low in the fridge. Within a day your celery will be in better shape than when you bought it, and you might be able to keep it this crisp and tasty for a week or so.

I made several original discoveries when I spent so much time reflecting on pheasants. Depending on how you count, I have written about pheasants in four books. Much of what I said had been written by someone else somewhere else . . . much, but not all of it.

One of the issues I pondered is the difficulty of getting a good closeup photo of a wild rooster. You might think with telephoto lenses this would be easy, but it is quite the opposite. Pheasants are shy. They live in dense cover that obscures them. It is all but impossible to get their portrait.

And yet some photographers do it, and I finally figured out how. In spring the vegetation isn’t as thick in pheasant country as it is in fall. Roosters gather harems of hens, and part of that process is that they strike showy poses to impress their hens. A springtime rooster might sit in the open trying to look magnificent, even with a human photographer nearby snapping photos of this.

And yet there is a problem. A springtime rooster putting himself on display will be so horny that the naked facial tissue around his eyes be engorged and exaggerated. That is, his face looks nothing at all like it will look in fall when people hunt him. I finally realized that every gorgeous closeup portrait of a rooster I had seen was a photo obviously taken in spring. I made the mistake of noting this and then sassing all those photos of springtime roosters.

roostercover_2

I got my just deserts. When I revised my first pheasant book, the publisher was proud to find a great photo of a rooster that could go on the cover. You already know what it looked like. It was a spring rooster with engorged wattles that was on full sexual display. I begged the publisher to not use a photo I had mocked in my last pheasant book, but they were determined to stick with the photo they had picked.

Do you know something that nobody else knows?