That's the Spirit!

I think I committed a faux pas when I wrote an email saying that a local political group called SPIRIT might have stepped over the line by sponsoring an Austin company that brings in international guest workers under the H-2B program. So I got blasted because SPIRIT says it’s not political (ha!) and because this was a worthy subject: ‘They were not only well educated and fluent in English, but they were also fascinating to talk with about their home country and individual background. They could be an asset to the tourism we are trying to build.’ Good Lord, it was like I was criticizing ole Walt Disney himself!

So let’s talk about the “they” here. These would be 66,000 temporary seasonal workers in non-agricultural jobs, an annual quota implemented in 1990 to help out the resort industry. Of course, Disneyland and the Colorado ski resorts snapped them up first, with the remainder going to coastal resorts in the Northeast, like Block Island, Nantucket, and Martha’s Vineyard. These are nice, friendly, educated, articulate kids that talk with better diction than most Americans.

So I don’t mind those businesses that want to take advantage of the program, if you can even get your foot in the door, but the message I got was rather shocking: the local workforce just isn’t any good. Some and we suspect a majority are illegal. Most don’t speak rudimentary English. They drive stinky old junker cars, if they even own one. If they start drinking beer, call the cops right away. Fortunately, most leave the Island at dusk so they are not such a bother except on Friday nights when there is a fireworks show.

Do you see where I’m going? Maybe the retired folks that make up much of SPIRIT haven’t caught on that the local businesses hire such workers because they’ll work for less than a minimum wage and no benefits. It is strictly an economic decision. If they wanted to pay twelve dollars an hour for housekeepers they’d do that … if they were completely nuts. Workers in the H-2B program usually get something in the middle, like $8.50 per hour.

We know SPIRIT did not intend to jump into the proverbial tiger cage of foreign labor, or make a political statement about it, but jump they did and I don’t think they understood that even sharing information can be considered a political thing. Forgive me for trying to warn you off that dirt track.

Political Outrage

Anybody hear about the latest brouhaha in D.C.? Apparently, a known swindler, Rep. William Jefferson, D-La with shady connections in Africa, had his office raided by the FBI. I say he is known swindler because his chief of staff was just carted off to jail for bribery. This Jefferson man’s up to his eyeballs in Tiki-Pooh.

Yet the nabobs in the House of Representative went ballistic along with the Senate, saying there was a “separation of powers” and the FBI needed to give all the files and moolah back to Jefferson, based on the US Constitution.

Folks, the separation of powers applies to the US Congress and not individual congressmen and congress women. Where is the outrage that these folks, highly paid PUBLIC SERVANTS, should each be above our laws?

That’s right, they’re PUBLIC SERVANTS not some members of a secret club that can deal in hush money, kickbacks, and all kinds of influence peddling. With public approval of Congress in the range of 30% and the Presidency not doing much better, you’d think they’d do a little better.

I’m not going to make any accusations, but the same attitude and impression seems to be going on with the Cameron County Commission voting into a sweetheart deal with Doyle Wells to commercialize our local crowned jewel, Isla Blanca Park.

I say kick all the bums out! On Memorial Day, 2006, it is time to reflect on those that lost their lives to defend our country, and what we’re defending it for … and it ain’t the greedy politicians on the take.

Fake SOBs Spotted on Island

It has come to attention that some yahoos are calling themselves "locals" and even "Sons of the Beach." An example is shown above, him of course hiding behind his Whopper. I mean, I've lived here almost a year but I don't claim to the either or both, other than having fun meeting the real locals and SOBs. But honest, folks like in the picture there, that is WAY too much (thanks to Jules at her 'Bruni Digest' blog for the fake SOB picture). Is this some kind of ploy to convince the gals we need more "renting" in the E District? I shudder at the thought ...

Tiki Queens

A good time was had by all at the Tiki 'Lighting of the Torch' shebang at Palm Street. Thanks to the kayakers, conga drummers, Malcom the old Tiki King, singers (yes, those Sirens rock!), and of course all the folks, who seemed to number about 60-80 at times. Oh, and we even had a pro Polynesian dancer named Caroline, I think was her name. Here's a picture of two of the Sirens warming up before the show - Nancy and my Tiki Lori.

Did I mention that fireworks went off at 9:15, as if orchestrated just for us?

This year's Queen of the Sargassum is JoAnn Evans. Next year Nancy wants to do a 'Turtle Ball' but by most accounts, folks wanted to continue April Arbor Day and May Tiki Day festivals we inspired. As yes, light the Tiki torches maybe Friday and a formal ball on Saturday ... hopefully it will be OK to tango!

Bad Fences, Bad Neighbors

Well this one ought to get your all stirred up – how about building hundreds of miles of fences on the border to keep out the Mexicans? Today the US Senate approved a measure to authorize 370 miles of fencing and the House has already approved 700 miles. Naturally, nobody knows where the money – appropriations – is going to come from. It is sure to cost billions by any estimates, not including patrolling and maintaining the suckers.

I already know why folks want such a fence, since it makes the (you fill in the blank here) feel good. “Good fences are good neighbors.”

OK, but at what cost? Sure, border apprehensions in the Tijuana District went from 100,000 a year to a few thousand today, but the coyotes and folks are just moving their routes to Arizona … and coming in bigger numbers and having more deaths in the desert. So, do I get this right, we will build a few hundred miles of fence to make MORE people cross the border and cause more people to die?

May I also remind the humble reader that 700 miles of fencing, as dictated under the House plan, would stretch from Atlanta to Chicago. Wow, that’s a big ole DMZ (demilitarized zone, but extremely militarized). See, plans are for three fences, each behind each other. One is a favorite for the frontline is to use old aircraft landing pads made of steel, which is no longer any good, to make vertical panels. This is so the drug dealers and coyotes can’t crash their vehicles through the fence. The picture shows the welded landing panels at the Pacific side south of San Diego. You can just imagine it at the Gulf where the Rio Grande comes out – you know, the border.

Then, there’s a 12-15 foot fence made of barbed wire, called “Sandia wire” for the inventors at Sandia Labs. Nice touch. The final coup-de-grace is a regular cyclone fence with curved compound wire on top. The entire triple fence system is over 150 feet wide, allowing border patrols and the military to conduct their operations, patrols, and raids. Of course, the fence system is just bristling with motion, light, heat, pressure, and other remote sensing devices, which requires a lot of teckies and geeks. Heck that’s a lot of resources we’re talking here, when you talk about mountains, deserts, streams, cables, computers, and so forth.

My point is not that anything is good or bad – sorry for sounding sarcastic – but that it costs a lot to construct, operate, and then figure out if it did any good for the investment. As a businessman I face these questions every day. For example, over the last week I was going to purchase some data software for $11,000 … that would make me exactly $11,000 in cash, thereby with absolutely no profit. I apologize in advance if I feel that way about this subject too.

Gold

The gold plumerias are back to doing pretty good, after being sorely abused last year when moving down here to South Padre Island. So are the other babies. They've been fertilized some but need some cow chit and three inches of mulch - and maybe some real rain instead of Mr. Sam the Hose Man here.

The yellows and golds come first, with the pinks and whites to follow, and the reds are always last. Strange how it seems to work that way everywhere around here ...

I'm down to 13 plumerias after leaving Austin, from a total of 21. Yes, a wee bit excessive, eh? But they are a fun hobby, and can handle the worst weather except for a hard freeze. Oh, and they smell pretty darned good, too! Nannette has me saving flowers for a Lei for the Tiki Ceremony this weekend.

Tiki Time Again

TAWHIRI is the name of the Tiki God of wind and storms and rain. I was hoping for some Tawhiri action today because of huge thunderheads that built up in the 100-degree heat but dissipated once they got within 20 miles of my house. According to the weather gurus, we’re between 3 and 13 percent of where we should be as to rainfall - out here on the Island I’d say at the lower end of the scale. I think we get more dampness from dew than rain! What’s up with this?

Maybe it is because Disneyland invented a fake rain goddess called HINA KALUNA for their “Tiki Room.” According to the Tiki experts, no such goddess exists. Darn those corporate mythologists, Charlie Brown.

It is getting so bad we even wished for tropical storms. Hurricane Emily came in last July and we got nothing over a quarter inch of rain – on the “wet side” of the storm. How can this be?

Anyway, we’ll be having a Tiki “Lighting of the Torch” party on May 20 so come on down if you want … more details to come. And if Tawhiri comes on down as well, we’ll be inside at Palm Street Pier.

Mrs. Whip

I was reading the Southern Brewing News and came across an article about a place in my old home town, the Whip In. And yes, there was a lady we called Mrs. Whip, although no, we’re not talking some kind of fem-dom perversion here because they had the best micro-brew and hard-to-find beer anywhere. Strange wine collection like from the Middle East, not to mention they also had some of the best groceries from India, Pakistan, Thailand, and so forth – in a freakin’ convenience store! If you think I’m still kidding check them out at The Whip In

It is located down in South Austin by Oltorf Street, right off Interstate 35. The easiest is heading south, where one would take the Woodward exit. Anyway, the shop has come a long way over the last 20 years and is a true Austin institution.

If you’re in the area on May 7th, there’ll be a big hoedown at the Continental Club, which is of course the funkiest place to see real music in Austin. That’s where folks like Joe Ely and Los Lonely Boys hang out.

And don’t worry folks, just a touch of nostalgia … OK, I miss Mrs. Whip and her cheerful smile, too. And most of all her secret whip.

Lots of Feral Cats

Yes, we have outside cats and feral cats. It’s against the ordinances, like you have to keep them inside or on a leash. How ridiculous, we’re allergic as hell to cats and come on, a leash? But we always adopt one or two and get them all neutered and fixed up by the vet.

It was getting a little out of hand … I suppose cats have been hanging out here since 1970. So I called the Town and got one of those traps. The scruffy yellow cats needed a visit to the vet real bad – and hopefully a new home.

Now we had adopted a neutered male named Al, and he’s real dumb. Dumb as dirt. We caught him every night. There he’d be in the morning, licking his paws and asking to come out for a pat and a pee. F-ing Al is what we call him now.

The local Town guy who does the traps said that if you feed the cats, they’re yours. I tried to argue but that’s silly – do those possum belong to me too? How about the feral dogs and coy dogs? Jeez, all we do is make the cats fat so they won’t eat all the birds.

Come inside, Miss Pit Bull might have something to say! But on our walks, the cats dutifully follow us up and down the road like a parade. Al and the dogs sniff each other’s dookie and it is quite a sight, as we steer them to the “safe havens” of empty lots so some whacko redneck won’t call the cops for shitting in public. It is quite a challenge, all this.

Thursday 5/4 - Here's F'ing Al, who of course schnubbed me for a face picture. Instead he did a face plant in the chow. Cats!

Have Any Lies To Tell Today?

The Bay Area Task Force is using eminent domain to claim private property so they can build boat ramps. The survey of boat ramps is illegal trespassing. The entire committee is a waste of time and the $60,000 in the budget should be sent back to the Town.

No, I am not making this up. It was a coordinated attack by certain individuals who wanted to spread disinformation about our committee, of which I am a member. I will not say specifically who was involved, other than the person is a prominent member of the Laguna Madre Business Association (LMBA). Heck, they even bought and brought an attorney to help scare the dickens out of us!

It did not work as they intended, as the chairman fought valiantly back, being a lawyer himself. “Go to the Board of Aldermen if you don’t like it” was his response, “we don’t make anything other than suggestions and recommendations.” The LMBA fought this too, saying we should talk with the Town Lawyer. Again, we stated that we were a citizen’s committee and we had put a lot of time and effort into this project, and the Town Lawyer would see it later on when it reached his desk.

The only thing that was effective about the LMBA strategy was that it totally screwed up a potentially good meeting, taking almost an hour and a half of a two-hour meeting. If that is progress I’ll be darned. No, we’re not going to launch a big campaign against the LMBA because of their obvious intent to subvert a citizens planning group. But since this is my blog, I get to tell it like I see it.

Arbor Saturday - Be There?

Just a reminder we'll be at the Water Tower Park starting at 9:00 on Saturday!

How About Them O's?

The Mystery of Oleander Street was finally solved by our good neighbors, Steve and Betsy. I had said “Hey keep an eye on that car parked down there on your empty, wild lot. He could be a sancho or something worse.”

It turns out the guy is an internationally known bird photographer. He felt a little sheepish about camping on Steve’s land so he gave him a huge glossy book about raptors of the US, a truly awesome tome.

Now here’s where it gets interesting. Not only had this guy set up a bird blind, like a tent, but he also had put out grapefruit, water, and all kinds of bird goodies. We met Tom the pro birder (his tripod was worth more than all our cameras combined) and he was all excited about “the fallout.”

That’s when a spring norther comes through and the migrating birds literally hit the Island from exhaustion. I walked the dog about 2:00 and there must have been 150 birds around the bushes, in the space of about three puny Island-sized lots. There are only three primo spots on the Island, and apparently our street is one of the tops! Sheepshead and the Convention Center are the other favorites.

I wish I my cams were working, as I pointed and turned dials and the batteries all went dead. Lordy, why me and why now? But I took Lori down there after work for a gander and we saw a few Baltimore Orioles before dusk. Beautiful bird. It made her day so I got happy again.

Kiteboarders, a Commentary

The kiteboards are becoming quite a problem on the Island now, as almost any local will say – even the local kiteboarders. I got real mad one day because a passel of them swooped down on my wife and I, buzzed us real close, and one wiped out right next to us. Not good when you have nothing but a bathing suit on, just trying to enjoy some primo body surfing.

I even contacted a few kiteboard shops and the Island, since they train and rent gear, but they said that the issue was the out-of-town yahoos. All the locals know to stay like 100 feet away from people, never jump over them, stay off the beach beak, etc. The shop folks sounded not a little exasperated. Basically, there is nothing they can do on the Gulf side … I heard from one authority that you can call the Coast Guard if somebody gets hurt … wonderful.

None of the local surfers and wind surfers I talked with wanted to be named … let’s just say they’ve been here forever and in some cases almost had to open a can of Whoop-Ass because they got run over. All said it was a problem and ….

Folks, if the situation continues to get out of hand, I’m going to petition the Town for an ordinance prohibiting launching or landing any kiteboards on SPI beaches, and will seek a MOU with Cameron Parks on Isla Blanca Park there, too. None of us want this to happen. Regulating fun is not our goal … but safety IS our concern.

Arbor Day Celebration

Come on down for a double-whammy on Saturday, April 29th. The state-sponsored beach cleanup starts at 8:00 and one of the gathering locations is the Water Tower Park (look for the huge blue water tower mid-town).

Later in the morning we'll be setting up for an informal Arbor Day celebration with a plant swap, some local urban forestry gurus, maybe a famous author, and more ... things are still coming together. Native plants will be a main focus, and some landscape companies are being invited. This should last until the early afternoon.

Did I mention there are restrooms, water, and maybe some freebies? Heck, sometimes the County will even throw a weenie roast! So come on down, clean a little beach, and buy a native Texas plant ... see you there.

Yellow Sophora

My, I’ve become quite the budding little naturalist lately! This little fella here grows in the empty field next door and is quite beautiful – the picture does not capture all its charm. A story: the mowers came with a huge “brush hog” tractor one day and yours truly was standing in defense of the poor critter … the mower ended up three feet away and we were saved by the boss heffe, who told the operator he had the wrong field (shrug).

Anyway, if they develop the land next door those two plants, also known as the Necklace Pod Sophora, is mine. Plant ID seemed reasonable after consulting the Native Plant Project and the Aggie native plant database. Here's some links:

Texas Native PlantDatabase
Native Plant Project

According to these folks, the shrub should grow up to 6 or twelve feet tall. National Arbor Day is Friday April 28; support your native plant resources.

Bongo Dogs

Local band the Bongo Dogs had a wonderful CD release party last Saturday at the Wanna. I had to run off early after the first set but I never tire of them - their "improv" style makes every song and every show different.

The local newspaper ran a nice article and the question about what kind of music was asked. The band calls it "caliche" because the trombone player, Cathi, drove past a gravel pit one day. Don't bother using Google because caliche is white limestone; I think the idea is a combination of latin, jazz, rock, and blues with most songs having a latin accent. The steel drum caps it all off for a definite Caribe feel.

Dave the guy who helps manage the band sent me some freebie songs but this blog seems tough to add them ... we're working out some teckie stuff and because I like the Bongo Dogs, you'll be sure to see some more updates right here.

Kiskadee

Today's blog is over at a real cool site called SOB News, which is a link on the upper left of the home page here. I don't know if they allow many comments there but it has some cool content.

More Island News

Well, most of the locals in our clan are jumping ship, leaving me to hold the fort. It is not much of a fort, more like a sandbar with some pointy things on it. Fortunately, there are no mosquitos and the temperature is cool compared to the mainland. Ooh, and my plumerias are starting to bloom!

Erosion on the north end of the Island appears to be getting real bad. This area is north of the Tiki and La Quinta, where many seawalls are now eroded under their foundations. Town planner Cate Ball suggested grant options to haul some sand in from the dunes that blow sand on Route 100 up north, but alas it is turtle egg-laying season so "no can do." Another option would be to bring in the dredge again ... but Brazos Pass has already been fixed by the Army Corps of Engineers and the dredge pipeline never gets that far north.

Discussion of Isla Blanca development certainly has gotten heated, with hints already of the County and developer wanting to sue each other. I hadn't thought about that option! As the Prez says, bring it on ...

The "Battle of the Medians" on the main drag seems to have dimmed, and TxDOT (our state transportation folks) offered some concessions to allow some additional turnarounds - while biting their tongues because that is exactly where one would predict the worst accidents ... darting left across two lanes of on-coming traffic.

Finally, our Bay Area Committee is coming out of the closet (you-who!), with some good agenda items courtesy of your humble Secretary here. We even landed a meeting place at the Convention Center, a relatively swanky venue. If you're around on Thursday afternoon on the 13th, swing on by! Umm, is beer and wine allowed in there?

Two Tyrants Call It Quits

Well, this certainly was a day for gravitas, as both Tom Delay of Texas and Prime Minister Thaksin of Thailand called it quits and stepped down. Something was in the air other than allergies and Moma having hot flashes (another story she'd rather not read about - but damn it's cold in here!). Is there a connection?

No, probably not, as my mind wanders amongst the day's busy flimflam, noting such things as Governor Perry and making a big PR release with John McCain and Harris County Judge Robert Eckels (all heavy dudes) that if a big hurricane comes to Texas, he doesn't want the Feds to take over emergency situations because doing so "could kill people." I liked that one, and I heartily agree ... for once.

One might almost expect President Bush to say "Fooey, I messed up and let's try to set this nation back on course" or maybe that the Isla Blanca developers would decide to pull out of their massive bulldozing deal on public property. Shucks, life just ain't all THAT good, I suppose.

Well, folks certainly seem to be busy, spinning in tight little circles and hopefully having some fun. Lori is headed up to Austin, leaving me for four days of dogsitting again, but at least I can roast at a comfortable 81 degrees when the sun is out.

And those Mets, my great-grandma would love to see them win something big this year! But hey, at least two international despots stepped down all of their own. Not bad.

April Fools Part Deux

You know spring is finally here when our favorite Latin rock/jazz band the Bongo Dogs start playing at the local Tiki bars again. Yes, we have spring break kids and Easter is coming but this is the true bellwether for the locals … dancing all night and such.

The seaweed wasn’t too bad so far this spring but scientists are completely mystified by the large schools of giant squid down by the southern end of the Island near the beaches and breakwater. “I thought I had a bull red,” said one fisherman, “instead it was big ole squid. It was a beeg fight. I guess I have some bait now. Oh no, dees one even bigger!”

Researchers at Pan-Am Biology center can’t quite explain the swarms, being tens of thousands of squid called (unintelligent Latin name). Some swimmers and surfers have been a little shocked because of bumps and the feely-tentacles. “We think they’re mating or something,” said one graduate student, “they mate by feeling stuff with their tentacles and you know, doing their thing.”

While nobody has been bitten or attacked, a few beach-goers complained about “being felt up” in the water. A few dead ones washed up on the beach but were quickly disposed by cleanup crews. Despite the swarms, officials say the beaches are open, even though at times the water turns dark from all the ink, which the squid release when excited.

One surfer who preferred to remain anonymous said “I think it is Mother Nature telling us that the Isla Blanca developers are trying to bury us in black ink.”

Welcome Home SOBs

You know, I get tired of talking about things like global warming, pollution, bad county park developments, immigration, local politics and politics of all kinds, and crazy stuff I can’t change. Sometimes I just want to say “Hey, welcome back to the Island, you SOB.”

That’s son-of-the-beach for those of you not in the know. It includes girls too! On a small Island with maybe a few thousand at most, it is a big deal. If you ever flew over South Padre Island, the Abacos, or places like Block Island, you simply can’t believe that folks can live on such a small sand-spit of land.

Now some of these here islands have real rocks and hills on them, but not here – it is all shifting sands. I am convinced that if a hurricane can’t take us out, the local politics will. But we come back and return … and we think about playing music and drums and getting together. Folks have been so busy, which is good, but we like our SOBs to come home to roost every now and then …

Welcome home you SOB!

Reverse Bracero

I’m not going to get involved in playing with the politics of immigration, but perhaps some history would be helpful. The Bracero program was started in 1942 due to a WWII concern that there was not enough manual labor to produce food. Working with the government in Mexico, the Farm Bureau contracted hundreds of thousands of “chili pickers” to work the fields. This number grew to over three to maybe five million. The extent to with they were abused or even paid is still a source of contention. The Bracero program ended in 1964 under pressures of illegal immigration, farm mechanization, and even charges of “illegal slavery” (source: www.farmworkers.org). Some might say that Bracero never really ended.

President Bush has a serious problem on his hands because he wants to expand the “guest worker” program, perhaps modeled after Bracero, yet strict conservatives want to stop all migration at the borders without semi-legal status for any migrant workers. Build a huge fence on the border; lock up criminal migrants; fine them and send them packing back home; send their employers to jail or fine them too. Oh, did I mention that churches that help illegal immigrants could be sanctioned as well?

The latest word is that Senate leader Frist will move a bill forward without any mention of an expanded guest worker program. However, there is a question of what to do with approximately 12 million migrants who are here already, many of whom do NOT have legal status. According to recent Bureau of Justice Statistics, there are a little over two million prisoners in federal, state, and local jails. The numbers of immigants is indeed bewildering. [Editorial note: have illegals build their own jails?]

The number of annual immigrants entering the US from Mexico is currently classified, as directed by Homeland Security, so the number of apprehensions and amnesty grants are not known. However somebody leaked information that about 45 percent of the migrants entered the US under the expectation of President Bush’s guest worker program (www.washingtonpost.com).

So it is a complex issue, and I wonder where all that “compassionate conservatism” has gone. The only thing that seems true is that everyone thinks they can control the situation with more and more legislation, which to me is far from what we learned in the past. Look for a good battle on the Hill...

Scissor Tails?

This picture was courtesy of some darned thingy on the Internet but the Scissor-Tailed Flycatchers came in today, up from Central America somewhere. It is an awesome bird, maybe not as awesome as the “Yeek-Woo” bird I have yet to identify, but way up there. The Scissor-Tail is the state bird of Oklahoma and in Texas is also known as the “bird of paradise.”

They are extremely aggressive and were attacking the grackles (nasty black birds), which endears me to them even more. And, they seem a little horny already, diving up and down with their long tails in acrobatic stunts. Just when I thought Spring Break was over!

The red-wing blackbirds have almost cleared out, my favorite crazy blackbird, as well as the doofy white pelicans. Some transient mockingbirds have shown up, one of which mimics the Yeek-Woo bird and drives me insane. But the scissor-tails are definitely cool.

How Do You Spell Relief?

Ah yes, what’s that sound? No helicopters, sirens, and boom-boom rap music and I can hear the ocean again? It must be the end of Texas Week.

The butcher’s bill was pretty light this year, with one death, a double-stabbing, and some of the usual accidents and mishaps, including a minor riot at the Radisson again. No Coast Guard rescues required. The worst we saw was a kid that just got out of the hoosegow asking for a free cell phone call to his parents.

Oh, and staying up all night and seeing the trash in the morning. Sheesh.

By all accounts from the locals, Texas Week was down from the peak years of the past, although it will take some time for the Motel Tax and Sales Tax data to be tabulated. Some speculated that Spring Break has just gotten too expensive.

Being “Spring Break virgins” in our first year here, it really wasn’t all that bad. We stocked up for a virtual hurricane but it only blew about 32 knots.

Biggest Snoop Ever

The biggest snoop in the US is the credit bureaus. You might think it is your neighbors, or the crazy rumor-mills in these little towns like South Padre Island. You might think it is George Bush with his illegal-sounding NSA phone taps and such. No, friends, it is the credit firms with evil names like Equifax, Solutions (huh?), and TransUnion. They know what you buy and whether you pay it on time or write a hot check. I read about this stuff while eating dinner and almost splooged.

I hate to sound like an old man, but it used to be you could work with your local bank, build up some savings, open a checking account, and get considered for a loan if you needed one, like for a house. Credit cards were for richie-rich people who shopped in downtown Manhattan, very expensive and very fake “gold card” money.

Heck man, most of us back then traded in cash. I remember as a kid working at a restaurant and somebody paid with a travelers check and we had absolutely no idea what to do with it. “That’s tourist money - it pays just as good, guys” said the boss. We stared in awe, mouths agape.

Spending, loans, check writing, and investments: unless you deal in hard currency these folks have everything financial on your life! And guess what, the government is behind it and gets to share some of those goodies. And they score you too, every day, 500 to 990! No other espionage system could work as well. They want us to worry about our medical records and whether George Bush is doing “peek-a-boo” searches but folks, I think I’m on to something and it is the worst.

Well, except for Bruno. He really is a snoopy bastard.

The DMZ

Here’s a shot of the Demilitarized Zone at ten o’clock a.m. Notice the chain link fence down the middle of the road – and yes I agree, it’s pretty bleak down there. By two o’clock in the morning, this will be an absolute madhouse. The chain link fence is a new development because the plastic barriers they put up in previous years were used for target practice.

Today is the first day of Texas Week for spring break. You won’t see much traffic now because kids these days don’t wake up until noon. All the locals are scrambling for groceries and beer and wine and supplies to “hunker down” the upcoming rush of wild-ass kids. Creative folks are putting up “do not cross” police tape to protect their driveways – you get the picture. Hey I could use a roll of that stuff, just maybe.

My wife Lori says “it’s kind of like getting ready for a hurricane,” a good description except the dogs bark all night long at strange rap sounds. Another difference is that there are five beer delivery trucks for every bar and the Mayor hasn’t kicked us off the Island … yet!

Getting Even with AARP

I received my first AARP letter in the mail today. Yes, that’s the American Association of Retired People. I’m burning it. Heck man, I’m not even 50 yet – that would happen in June.

I remember burning my draft card in 1974 or so. Okay, I waited for the draft lottery to be cancelled by the President and then I burned it but man that felt good. Repeat: I burned my card after the draft stopped! At the time I was “1-H” and ready to be inducted into the Army in Hartford, Connecticut. I was either going to join the Coast Guard Band or hightail it to Nova Scotia before I was “saved by the Lord.” OK, maybe Nixon.

Burn baby burn, it went up in like three seconds and was gone.

And just like the draft, this AARP letter just pisses me off. I mean it is Spring Break time and these folks want to ruin my childish ways by offering cheap insurance and a good RV deal in Schenectady, New York? I want to get down with the college kids and party.

Sure, I moved down here to have a “semi-retired” lifestyle but I’ll probably have to work until I’m 90 to pay off all this debt. But I’m still 17 at heart. So I’m burning the letter on the BBQ after I make dinner, since I don’t want to pollute my excellent meal with such trash.

It will be just like burning that old draft card, only better. Who was that famous movie actress who said “Those bahstids!”?

All at Sea, Literally

I went out deep-sea fishing last Sunday and it was fun although rather depressing at the same time. The high spot was all the jumping King Mackerels, which were chasing bait out of the water, maybe six feet into the air. Hundreds of them jumped in five minutes and it went on for hours! They were at least a quarter mile away, so I didn’t get a good picture – a zoom video cam would have been cool.

Meanwhile most of us fished the rocks down about 100 feet deep, catching all kinds of snappers and weird fish like Squirrel Fish. The red snappers were illegal to keep so we released them back into the water … where Mama Dolphin was teaching her baby how to feed on our lunchbox. I’ve never seen such wholesale slaughter of snappers in my life. Mama and baby followed us to three different spots and let me tell you, baby was going to survive just fine, as we released over a hundred.

An older gentleman was fishing beside me and was quite upset, in words but not actions, since all he wanted was some decent dinner even if it was triggerfish. The galling part was that the crew kept trying to get us to catch a mackerel, which we detested. “My buddy and I got a hundred pounds of that crap last time,” he said, “and we couldn’t give that crap away, not even for a big fish fry. So what if it pulls good?”

And no, they couldn’t seem to release the kingfish and their first reaction was to slam it on the steel floor to kill it as soon as possible, shouting with glee.

It seems that trash fish like kingfish and sharks and amberjacks (A-Js) are the big ticket on the head boats these days, but we wanted mahi-mahi, yellow-fin tuna, grouper, ling, and things like that – you know stuff that actually tastes good. I left the post-trip show where they hang up the fish for pictures without dallying, somewhat dejected and empty.

Beach Restoration Award

I’d like to congratulate Mayor Bob Pinkerton for receiving the American Shore and Beach Preservation Association award for SPI having one of the top “restored beaches” in the United States. I really like Bob’s unflinching dedication to making our beaches being a top contender, both nationally and worldwide. To Bob I tip my hat!

That said, 2005 was a rather difficult year for SPI beaches. In January the dredge named Millenium cut a little bit too deep into the Rio Grande mud, with resulting clays being deposited up as far as the Wanna restaurant. The project went over its schedule and only covered a relatively small part of beach that actually needed the material (377,000 cubic yards). That is because the lower part of SPI (Isla Blanca to Oleander Street) is actually gaining sand, called accretion. Here’s a picture of the “clay turd machine” taking a well-deserved rest after all that pooting.



Then over the summer and fall Emily, Katrina and Rita waves wiped out a large amount of the dune systems. Many dunes were cut way back, almost vertical. The results were rather shocking. This was not a good year for the beaches.

In December there was some public support for dune enhancement projects, given the horrendous damage to the dunes and the probability of obtaining some used Christmas trees. After some political football, since the town didn’t want thousands of trees and surfers running everywhere, the Town took over the project, with a total of exactly 13 trees and several bales of hay and some snow fencing. While not impressive, it was a great start and very appreciated.

In February 2006 the Brownsville Herald announced that an agreement was reached to dredge the Brazos Santiago Pass, since it had silted up to the point that large ships could no longer get over the sandbar – by now the “best surf break in Texas.” Congressman Solomon Ortiz was instrumental in obtaining the emergency funding.

However, there were no funds for restoring the north end of the beach with the dredge spoils, and the material was shipped out to a dump site several miles out to sea. And dumped. Unlike the material in the Channel, however, the sands being dredged were pure “marine sands” without hardly any clay content, being perfect for beach restoration (170,000 cubic yards).

It could have been pumped onshore using a hopper dredge instead of the cutter-suction dredges like the Millenium, but alas, there was not enough time to arrange the financing. I would ask the Town to explore use of the hopper dredge technology for mining marine sands instead of laying ugly pipes down the beach, which would pump high-clay materials back on the lower part of the beach. Here’s a picture of a hopper dredge, loaded down and with jumping dolphins in the bow wake. Yes, they can pump the sand back on the beach and reach the northern end of the Island where we need the help. Think about it.

Isla Blanca Redux

One of the more galling aspects of the proposed design for the Laguna Madre Enhancement Group’s concession on Island Blanca County Park is that a marina and channel would be constructed. As has been noted by both Doyle Wells and Cameron County officials, there is a significant amount permitting and work that needs to be done before it is even considered. It might not happen at all. But if you look at the proposed development plan, here is what you get:



Notice the two “donut holes” which would become a marina with water in it. This would displace most all of the RV park area. Worse yet, the creation of this marina required dredging and the submerged land would be transferred from the County to the Texas General Land Office! Isn’t anyone mad about this? See, Texas owns all the submerged land in the state, so we’re giving away a lot of real estate here.

So if the marina is not built, can the RV’s stay put? I don’t see a contingency here for what that land would do if not underwater.

Now let us see what happens if that within 4 or 7 years if the marina really is constructed. First of all, you will note that there is no dry-stack storage for boats and that the Plan revolves around very expensive (and less efficient) wet docking, perhaps $2.50 to $4.00 per foot. Usually these docks are gated with a key access, meaning for you and me, no access. Pay or get lost, buddy!

Finally, take a look at this famous aerial shot by Richard Stockton. Do you see waves breaking in Dolphin Cove, the hottest place to surf in tropical storm wave action? What will that channel do to our enjoyment of Dolphin Cove? Huh?



Yes, I have to agree with Alderman Mallet that there is little the Town of South Padre can do about such things at this time. But still, there is the problem of historical access and frankly, my friends, what is happening stinks to high heaven, in that regard.

Sammy's Razor

I know, silly title and I really hate shaving with a passion, but I ran across the term “Occam’s Razor” and had to investigate. He basically was the father of the KISS Principle: keep it simple, stupid. The Latin can be better translated as “don’t introduce multiplicity into simple explanations” although it can be interpreted several, similar ways.

Well, Sammy’s Razor goes like this:

1. When work is slow, you don’t want to spend thousands on improvements and toys
2. When there is too much work, you can’t spend any time on improvements and toys

Yes, this is the old “feast or famine” paradigm that all free-lance workers and consultants have. So work is slow and my wife Lori says “why don’t you go buy a boat, or better yet, build one?” Heck man, everything fun I want to do is at least a thousand bucks: paint the outside of the house, put in a new yard, get a boat, build stairs on the back porch; you get the idea.

So with a mortgage double it used to be, two college-age kids, and tax time, I’m sitting here wondering if there is any cheap fun like fishing. The water is freaking cold, about 65, so I usually just end up with a walk on the beach.

I couldn’t pick a better place to have Sammy’s Razor, though. I think I’ll shave before the big town meeting night … naaaaaw!

Sand Dollars?

After a year or so I got tired of the old foggy theme and changed to the "sand dollar" theme and obviously I need to work on it but there's more white space. Plus, fonts such as Trebuchet and Verdana sound so manly, for a dude in mid-life crisis! Yet, I wanted something light and airy. Bah, we'll see how it works. Hey Sandy I added links to ya!

The Island is just a-twitter with all this stuff about Isla Blanca Park, 450 acres, being sold to some slimey condo developers - there is a big Board of Aldermen meeting on Wednesday on just this topic. It should have good viewing potential.

I read with interest today about a commune in California that is just for old folks. Hey, thats just what we need here! Isla Blanca sounds good to me ... the gals can watch the yound manly surfers and us geezers can check out the booty. I'll throw down on that. Ok, and bingo and kino at the most, folks, we're on a limited income ya know!

High Point on SPI

Today this is mostly likely the highest topographic elevation within SPI town limits, barring all the man-made stuff. Unfortunately for this dune, it is not protected because it is not by the beach. The dune mysteriously started falling down last week.

The sign there is a clue that this is a “spec house” because it has not been sold yet. I suppose a person has rights to do whatever he or she wants with their property - and all it perfectly legal. Oh well, that was an old dune, probably here since town founder John L. Tompkins bought the five miles of sand spit back in 1950.

Goodbye, old friend.

Where's Dick When Ya Need Him?

By now the quail-hawk incident involving Dick Cheney shooting a lawyer has become a national joke. One funny circulating the email said the TPWD (the state game agency) would start selling licenses for open season on all lawyers, $100, not a bad deal. Maybe we should invite Dick down here and see how he does duck hunting with the local hi-rise developers. He can worry about the, err, duck stamp later.

I think I'm going to have to sick these girlz on them, meanwhile.

No no I don't smoke it no mo'

There’s a good battle going about whether to allow the United Arab Emirates (UAE, also known as Dubai) to control about six major port terminals in the U.S. The biggest are several locations in the New York area. The deal was part of a sale by P&O Ports to a UAE consortium for approximately 5.6 billion dollars and includes terminals in New York, New Jersey, Philadelphia, Miami, New Orleans, and Baltimore. As such, “Dubai Ports World” would take over all assets, leases, and operations from P&O. These are very profitable cruise ship and containership terminals and apparently it was a sweet deal.

The U.S. government approved the sale but apparently forgot to ask local politicians and the Congress if that was alright with them. According to the latest New York Times article on February 21, big names like Bill Frist (Senate Republican leader), Dennis Hassert (House Speaker), Michael Bloomberg (New York City), and George Pataki (New York State) have accused the executive branch of some major misconduct. The reason for a second take was because of the potential for terrorist activity.

Now let’s step back for a minute and see what this is all about. Ninety percent of the ships are owned by overseas companies and over half of the port terminals are already owned by foreign interests. Why are all the major Republicans joining in the tirade? Doesn’t the Coast Guard or Homeland Security provide the protection? On the West Coast hardly any facilities are really “American” except for some Alaska tanker lines and a route to Hawaii. I just don’t get it.

In spite of common sense, this has become such a huge issue that Shrub Bush intends to veto anything coming out of the U.S. Congress on the matter. So you know there are some legislators just wanting to see if they had a vote to over-ride a Presidential veto or find some other constitutional remedy. The viewing could not be much better, folks! My thinking is that Shrub did cut a deal with the UAE but that some people still remember that two of the 9/11 terrorists were from that place, a coalition of seven warrior tribes.

Hurricane Plans

After hurricanes Katrina and Rita, Governor Rick Perry appointed a task force to make recommendations about how to make such disasters easier to manage. Their report was made available just today.

One of the key findings was that local control was a real big problem, with over 100 coastal communities. Then, as we saw in the two hurricanes, the evacuations impacted not only those communities but hundreds of others located upland, as far as Dallas, El Paso, and Brownsville.

Solving the problem would involve statewide and regional planning. One of the key recommendations was to give the Governor the power the order evacuations and set in motion emergency disaster plans. Currently those powers are in the hands of the mayors of each coastal town in Texas. Legislation would be required to change that.

I must say, after moving here to South Padre and having Hurricane Emily three weeks later was something of an eye-opener. But I thought that Mayor Pinkerton called the shots right and we hunkered down right here.

So I see a need for regional planning but I don’t think I need the Governor up in Austin ordering me out of my house and home. Okay, maybe I could take it from Kinky "The Texas Jewboy" Friedman if he asked nice ... get yer biscuits out of the oven and your buns up here.

The Medium Speaks

That’s me conjuring up a big ole sea trout there, maybe 30 inches. It feels good being the Island Medium. Yup, the Board of Aldermen voted 4 to 1 for the Medium and I feel great. I might need some advice from Raybo about how to fulfill all my various and sundry duties, but I think it was high time we got a Medium in this town. I’m a little nervous, like if I run into some weird transmogrified freaks like Hoteb or something, and channeling isn’t my biggest strength excepting if it involves a dredge barge, but hey, I feel good providing for a needed public service.

Now some people they just don’t like mediums. I mean, one Alderman voted against me and there’s a whole business group formed to get rid of all mediums like me. Imagine that! They even took a full-page ad in the local paper saying how mediums could harm business, block emergency vehicles, scare the citizens, and generally run amok. And here’s the strange part – they did this AFTER the vote.

And you know, one of my first tasks as Island Medium I tried reaching out to these people like getting into their minds but there wasn’t nothing except for a big stinking black hole. I’ll never do that again; I tell you it was scary. If there are 20 I can’t fathom spiritually, well, I got about 2,000 others to try to do some good. Public service is all about reaching out to the greatest common benefit, right? Did I mention I do this service for free?

I just don’t know what some folks have against mediums.

Medians? You have to be kidding!

Weasel Snipers Everywhere!

That’s the Weasel Sniper, or better known as Fang on the Sonic Hedgehog games. He’s one bad dude and he’s making a come-back. I’ve been cruising around the webs, forums, and blogs and can’t believe how nasty people have gotten – and graphic to boot! You’d think with a mild winter, an easing economy, and lower gas prices people would lighten up a little.

No way and our little burg on South Padre Island is not exception. I won’t go into the details but you can say the Weasel Sniper is alive and well here too. A Weasel Sniper is a person who hunts down things that piss him or her off, and then they let you have it with both gun barrels, often foaming at the mouth like a rabid possum. Rarely do they make any sense, which is comical except they darned near had a stroke inventing how to write about bad things like about the most graphic parts of your body.

I think there is a whole bunch of people that grew up around Sonic Hedgehog and stuff of that ilk and they just turned worse, like their whole life is grumpy … and that as the population grows, there are more numbers of these inherently unhappy folks. “Born to flame” seems to be their motto. One must guard against the temptation to join the League of Slime and become a Weasel Sniper.

On a more positive note, Christy the Clown gave me the coolest necktie in the universe the other day. It was patterned after the Dr, Seuss book about green eggs and ham, complete with some graphics saying “Eat at Sam’s,” Strangely, in a way, it resembles some of the techniques used for the picture of our Weasel Sniper here, although I think in a much more fun way, retro 50’s. I’ll see if I can photo-blog it soon. Thanks, Christy!

Let's Go Parking!

It used to be “parking” was fun back in the happy high school days, like sneaking some beer and trying to get smoochy-face in the back seat. Not so these days, where parking in some areas has become a huge problem during peak times. Of course there’s no big problem this time of year, so I leaned over the porch railing and grabbed a shot of our Island mascot, ‘La Bamba.’ Nice off-road potential on this puppy!

The problem is most acute by the Gulf side when everyone wants to go to the beach, which of course requires many SUV’s even if you live two blocks away. The condo owners try to fight off the crowds, threatening with towing, fines, and the glorious “Denver Boot” while at the same time their over-flow customers park on public lots. One suggestion by the Town was to meter the public access parking lots but I think that one went down in proverbial flames.

Then we have developers that want less parking so they can build more condo complexes. With land worth several hundred per square foot, I can see their point, but where are all these people going to park? Some families come down here with one car but some come with as many as six. This begs the question of whether the Town should build a huge parking garage to finance development, one which I am starting to think is a rather silly idea.

So my latest crusade is to do a master parking study and to require all large developments to evaluate their impact on parking before getting a permit to construct multiple dwelling units. No, it will not be popular and no, I’m not referring to sneaking some joy juice and smooches in the back seat.

Willacy Getting Freaky

Just when you thought Willacy County couldn’t get any weirder, the Corpus Christi Caller-Times informs us of yet another “man bites dog” story (‘Mansfield port work good news for boaters,’ February 2, 2006). Apparently, the stars are lining up so the Mansfield Channel will be dredged with boat ramp money supplied from the Texas Parks and Wildlife Department, in addition to Corps of Engineers projects related to Hurricane Rita restoration (North Jetty and Padre Island National Seashore [PINS] renourishment on North Padre). The big boats can come back, maybe in a year.

The TPWD money would be used to dredge the channel from the boat ramp to the intersection of the Intracoastal Waterway. As part of the agreement, the Willacy County / Port of Mansfield Navigation District would come up with about $75,000 of a total cost of $225,000 and have to maintain the small channel for a number of years.

Here’s where it gets interesting. The Navigation District doesn’t have a dime, and port director Mike Wilson claims that periodic maintenance dredging would cost about a million bucks every five years. As mentioned by columnist David Sikes, the outdoor feature writer, “anglers and local business people may not be looking that far ahead.”

Understatement of the year, David!

See, the only source of revenue for the Navigation District is some houses, docks, a boat ramp, and a small airport. About 1760 acres of land were seized by eminent domain in 1948 but there isn’t a town and there isn’t a major: you pay rent for squatting on Navigation District property. The only way to get more revenue is to jack up the rental fees, since they have no taxation powers. I don’t think these campers will be very happy.

But wait there is more to the story. The Navigation District is the same outfit that wants Willacy County to expand its holdings by seizing hundreds of acres of conservation lands on South Padre Island – by you guessed it, eminent domain. This is presumably for one boat ramp and two Port-O-Potties, a similar theme rejected by the federal boys and gals over at the PINS.

I swear I’m not making any of this up.

Cheney Shoots Hunter, Freed

Today's top story, other than a huge snowstorm in Yankeeland, was that Vice President Dick Cheney shot a fellow hunter up the road in Kenedy County. Blasted him good with a shotgun, by all accounts. Funny how he can run a war yet can't even figure how to blast a poor little quail without taking somebody out. At least President Bush only whacked a kildee one time, another federal offence, but not a real person. At last report, Cheney had been released from police custody.

Big Bayside Ugly

That’s a shot of the end of our street on South Padre Island. There are about 39 streets that dead-end into Laguna Madre like this, although each one is different. Ours may look nice at a distance but up close it is so ugly it could make a freight train take a dirt road.

So I’m on this Bay Area Task Force and one of our jobs is to make some recommendations about how to fix up this mess. It has been a rough ride so far, since this was done already in 1999 and was shot down in flames. There are a thousand competing things to spend Town money on, like fixing the beach accesses which were destroyed by last summer’s hurricane waves, to making Padre Boulevard more sexy and appealing. The bayside is more like an ugly kissing cousin.

However, if you think about it there are only two resources on the island: the beach and the bay. Over the last ten years millions have been spent on the beach for beach renourishment, access improvements, and cleaning; on the bayside I doubt that much more than $75,000 has been spent in as many years.

Some street ends actually are in pretty good shape, although most of the bulwarks were constructed in the 70’s and 80’s and are now falling apart. Many street ends such as ours turned into a construction waste dump, fondly called “rip-rap” comprised of broken concrete, concrete truck dregs and trash. Even the General Land Office loves the construction dump appearance, noting oysters and eel grass growing rampantly.

So my initial recommendations were purely clinical at first, using an engineering approach to bring the street ends up to date and to clean up the dump sites. As far as “beautification” which could involve native plants, benches, paths, and so forth, I think residents on each street should have a say on what they want – or to put it the other way, if the locals start bitching, screaming, and hollering in protest, forget it.

Take a ride on a boat sometime and explore the bayside of our Town. I’m sure you’ll see the ugly parts as being rather obvious.

Dog Wars

I mentioned to Sandy Feet some time ago that us dog owners sometimes face some serious discrimination here on the Island. She responded something like “Yeah, they always look at me like my dog was a fully loaded poop-bomb ready to go off at any second.”

We got a good chuckle out of that one, but I tell you we can’t get no respect. I mean we walk the girl dogs and they squat in perfect unison and I have to helpfully point out “DON’T WORRY - IT’S ONLY PEE!”

We do use some abandoned lots for the real thing, which I have to say is pretty well mined with all kinds of cat and dog bombs. So the dogs are in “lock’n’load” position and the Temperance League walks by saying “You’re not going to leave that there, are you mister?”

Naturally, I’m a nice guy so I don’t mention curt things like that I was about ready to chunk a steaming loaf of it in their direction. I mean here I am in a half-acre of wild field, no wetlands or anything, grass up to my knees, and these folks want me to do Dooty Patrol? Get real. I always considered these wild areas as a DMZ – doggie maintenance zone.

Oops, the dogs are getting hungry, time for more ammo!

The Huisache Dance

Boy I tell you there are some plants and shrubs that look like from a different planet down here. I had enough of a hard time getting used to the plants in Central Texas after moving from Connecticut – at least there were recognizable things like oak and ash and pine and even an odd-placed maple. One of the strangest ones is the Texas Huisache.



Those are thousands of golden puff-balls flowering. In February! I thought horse chestnut trees were weird but this puppy takes the cake. I mean really, until the plant flowered this week it was just a scruffy-looking bush, with evil-looking spikes and thorns. I think I like this bush, the Huisache.

They say they attract hummingbirds, butterflies, and birds but so far all I saw was one very busy bee, so loaded with pollen he could barely fly, dancing slowly.

Dunes: Week 3

It’s been three weeks since we seeded the dunes with some Christmas trees, hay bales, and snow fencing. So far all looks real good in the study area from Bahia Mar to near the Iverness. Lori and I thought the Christmas trees did especially well and wished we had more than the ten or so collected.



Here is a shot of the hay bales.



The undercutting and toppling we noticed a few weeks ago was not evident and they are still building the highest dunes. The best ones were backed up to the existing dunes, since sometimes a “wind tunnel effect” was noted where the sand was scooped out between the hay and the old dune. As said before, the snow fencing was effective for building low, broad dunes in between the fencerows.



And after all that walking and hard work, a stop at our favorite watering hole was well earned. Hi Teresa!

Flying Pigs Spotted on SPI

“I moved here from the Northeast with one goal in mind, to put a high rise cond complex on every vacant lot I could find. America is the land of opportunity, and South Padre Island is fair game baby. My investors from Cali, Florida, and New York are going to put this place on the map, and you can't stop US.”

That was a direct quote from something written on a blog by Sandy Feet. It’s getting a little feisty down here, and the locals fear that if they stand around too long they’ll be paved over by some big machine. Consider the following:

- Cameron County grants a lease option for 160 prime acres in Isla Blanca Park for a 28 story gambling and hotel venture.

- Willacy County hires a lawyer to file eminent domain for hundreds of acres on the north end of the Island so they can put in a boat landing and a Port-O-Potty

- Major projects are planned north of the Shores including at least one high-rise condo

- Laguna Madre Water District doesn’t get state funds but proceeds with a study to install a huge desalinization plant on the north side of Town

- A major highway project is scheduled to restart negotiations on another causeway to the Island, tolled, which would run smack into a residential street

- As more erosion and storm waves strip the beach of sand, a flurry of permits are granted to remove dunes so first-floor residents can see the Gulf

- The Laguna Madre Business Association promises to replace the Board of Aldermen with pro-development stooges

We all know that development is inevitable and I think there is a “gold rush” because the Town is working on a comprehensive plan that could limit growth in certain areas. The prevailing conservative philosophy is “if you don’t like it, hit the highway.”

Oink, oink.

Tiki Time!

It was Tiki Time at Chefette Nanette’s Sunday night, with a nice send-off for Sandy Feet and her upcoming voyage to Hawaii. That’s Ms. Feets in her grass skirt with all the correct tourist accoutrements, including Tiki Punch with electric blue Curacao.

Now the “ceremonial table” was my idea, with pineapple, small bananas, and can-o-Spam, and Nanette provided a huge roasty ham wrapped in real banana leaves, all in high Luau style. We even had some 1960’s vinyl records featuring Annette and all that.

It was a perfect day, about 80. It coincided with the Lunar New Year and some very high tides. A good time was had by all. Hau 'oli Makahiki Hou! Happy New Year, and bon voyage, Sandy.

Humping Seaplanes?

Here is an email I sent to some important folks on South Padre Island (SPI). It basically lambastes a part of the Town ordinances. Then I got to looking at other parts of the ordinances and stopped laughing, it was so bad. But let's stay on the lighter side. The issue is waves from boats on the bayside. Let 'er rip:

* * *

At issue today is how the no wake ordinance (SPI §12-15) is the dumbest crock of hooey ever written. It was handed out again at the BATF last meeting. That’s right, I said hooey. The silly ordinance should be completely deleted and replaced. It is not worth the paper it was printed on - maybe 7 cents at most.

The errant ordinance starts off by saying it is regulating no-wake zones in SPI limits but does not say where the “limits” are, which from what I can tell is one or two arms of channels up by Fiesta Isles. Those two or three “no wake” signs nailed to the GLO channel markers on [the main bayside] Tompkins Channel are illegal as heck, by the way. You can make all the wakes you want there. Not nice but you can.

Then the silly thing tries, in rather a feeble attempt, to define “no wake.” This is hysterical. First it says that if a boat is operating “on a plane” it is probably having a big wake (silly boys). I don’t think they mean airplanes, or that a boat is humping an airplane, or maybe an airboat in heat, although one is not completely sure. We think they mean hydroplaning hulls, maybe. Sexy, high-maintenance, expensive ones.

The ordinance then helpfully adds that a boat is on a plane if it “travels on top of the water.” Holy smokes, we’ve ruled out most of the airplanes and submarines I guess! It’s not too good if you’re hydroplaning and end up underwater, I can tell you that. Back to square one. We’re lost! Seaplanes?

We finally get to the meat of the ordinance, which says something about maintaining “slow speed/minimum wake,” whatever that is, one or the other, but then craps out by saying that if you do “more than a minimum wake” you can be nailed for up to 500 bucks.

Let’s see here, I checked about 20 boats and the true minimum wake was when they were tied up to the dock. I could see some ½ inch wakes from just the tide flowing by but I think that would be OK. There was no mention of adequate steerage headway or anything like that.

Why don’t we fix this ugly old turkey and just say the controlled speed is 5 MPH? It all goes to show, you have to know how to write an ordinance without hoping people would figure out what it means, using all this wonderful legal help like the humping seaplanes and all that Mickey Mouse. And don't forget the hooey.

Dune Status - Week One

Lori and I inspected the dune projects between Iverness and Bahia Mar today and we were impressed, even for just one week since we planted them. The strong south and north winds have definitely deposited some sand where we wanted it, already. Some notes –

Hay bales were the most impressive, some with large dunes around them. On the downside, some were being undercut or were starting to topple over because of the intense winds. We think they have a short half-life.

Christmas trees were good to fair depending on location, with a few almost being nearly covered by the sand (all had some branches sticking out). These dunes were much lower than the hay bales which were stacked 3-high, so they did pretty much as expected.

Snow fencing was interesting because none of them “grew” dunes at their feet – the small dunes called coppice dunes were growing in between the rows of fencing. The dunes were very wide even though small (by contrast, all the hay bale dunes were very short and narrow). We did not explore north of the Bahia Mar.

One thing I did notice was that several properties had wind and water erosion so bad the underside of their foundations was visible. That is not a good thing, in my mind. More work needs to be done. Oh, and a lesson we learned was that the dune-starters have to be about 20 feet apart so the beach tractors can get in between them.

Pictures to follow when we get some sunshine!

Offshore Fishing IFQ

The federal government has horribly mismanaged the offshore fishing near South Padre Island, Texas. The regional headquarters of the NOAA fisheries office is in Florida, which is nothing like the western Gulf near our neck of the woods. The only new idea the NMFS has had is for an 'individual fishing quota' or IFQ that would eliminate fishing derbies and allow a better management of the species, like red snapper.

But you know how computers work and I did some Google and found that there were 'community development quotas' (CDQ) in addition. My mind started thinking that if something like that could be organized and run locally, the entire lower coast from below Corupus Christi to the border could be managed by, heck why not, real local fishermen.

I know, the CDQ idea was meant for Indian fishing tribes, moreso on the Pacific coast. Heck, some of the indians on the CDQ still get to catch a few whales every year (not that we'd even want one). But the fishery laws and regulations allow for a CDQ without having to be a tribe.

So why not take over a good part of the Gulf, maybe out to the 100-fathom curve? Why not work with the State of Texas to coordinate federal quotas with in-state ones? If you think about it, the amount of coastline and acreage is similar to many entire states on the East Coast.

I guarantee it would work because if the area was over-fished, none of the mousquito fleet (as we call them down here) would be making any money. So it would be in their (and our) best interests to conserve hook and line fishing and market it when it is needed, not when the government says it is mandated or prohibited.

In an interesting twist, I would encourage government auditors and biologists to help make the thing work. Transparency would be essential. Simply stated, we need to stand up for our rights or the government and transient boats from Florida are going to eat our lunch - literally. I feel like the President today: bring 'em on.

OK, not that far but you get the idea.

Bino-Cam

No, I don’t mean that I have a gay camera – I call it a “bino-cam” because it resembles a pair of binoculars. It is made by Bushnell, regarded highly in the trade, but I’m still having problems as you can see. How did the Earth get so tilted like that, and why is our bird here so fuzzy?

Oh and yes, any idea about what kind of bird it might be would be nice, although this is the best of six pictures. It looks like a cross between a giant duck and a Peregrine Falcon. He (or she) has been sitting there all morning.

The bino-cam was Lori’s Christmas present to me, so I’m going to work on those little settings some more. There’s a little LCD panel and – having a senior moment here – I needed a magnifying lens just to see what it says. About the only thing that looks intuitive is a display that says “EEK.”

But the horizon, even tilted, was fuzzy today because of the 30-knot winds that stirred up a whole bunch of sand and smoke and dust. Half of it seems to get right in my eyes and blow right up my nose. But with 70-degree temperatures, I’m not complaining.

And, not a bad picture for about 200 feet to our mystery bird here.

Ride My Pony on My Boat

Just like ole Lyle Lovett says, “I wanna ride my pony on my boat.” Yeah, he’s one of my favorite musicians and I don’t know about the pony but I do know about the boat. The only problem is that I’ve got to build it first. You probably need to be 70 years old and have built these for 30 years to do it right, but here I go.

This here is a 1910 plan drawing of a North Carolina spritsail skiff (courtesy of the North Carolina Maritime Museum). The “sprit” is the diagonal pole holding up the highest edge of the sail, from whence it gets name. It looks like a flat-bottom boat but actually has a slight V-bottom, which is why it is also called a “deadrise skiff.” I’m not sure about deadrise skiffs down here near South Padre but I sure bet there’s some local history there.

It’s the hull that worries me though – I might even use it with an outboard for a while before cutting and rigging sails. She’s about 20 feet six inches long, big for a starter-kit. Why on Earth would I even attempt this? Well, because it’s a challenge. Second, my Dad had one when I was a kid and I loved it. We sailed the mighty Atlantic, anchored her on Block Island every summer, used her for a lobsterboat, and most of us kids learned how to swim by jumping off her. Third, the boat was designed for shallow waters like for oystering, so it would be great down here on South Padre Island; it maybe draws 6-9 inches. Finally, it’s because nobody else has one down here, so I’m looking for the “wow” factor.



At first I wanted to build something real easy, with ready-to-cut patterns and be done in like three or five weekends and have a nice surf dory. Sure, I may have to lay out the boat on a huge piece of construction paper, consult lots of family and friends, and maybe go on Prozac, but I have a plan. It’s sitting in the shipping tube right here in my living room.

It lurks, clawing at my mind. One fine day she will swim …

Thammy Gotta Code!

Well blow me down if I didn’t get a cold, which hopefully will leave without complications. I call it the “Austin crud” because I got it a day after my good friends visited, although one can never be sure. At least we don’t have cedar pollen on top of everything else. Yup, cedar pollen, that’s a big reason why we moved down here.

But I shouldn’t whine and moan too much, since it’s just a silly cold. I can hardly think straight, which is possibly a good idea for a while. My wife is emptying out half the medicine cabinet and I don’t really want anything except soup, and maybe something with chile or hot peppers in it (what happened to my sense of smell and taste?). She looks disapprovingly, like I was completely bonkers. “Here take this now.” I simply smile. What was that old saying, feed the flu and starve a fever … see, I really can’t think!

Well, if you see me wandering around the Island bare-ass nekked, you’ll know what’s happening. It is NOT a senior moment, folks.

Indian Giver

As you know I rarely wax political and I sound fake when I do, but some recent media articles about the Jack Abramoff debacle caught my attention. Several Indian tribes were quoted as being quite upset that every politician in Washington is unloading any lobby money connected to Jack Abramoff, including donations to charities and … back to the Indian tribes. This is quite upsetting to Native American Indians, who gave the money with the expectation something would be done in return. To throw that money away really gets their craw, doubly.

I entitled this blog “Indian Giver” which is not very fitting although most people know what it means. Few people know that several of its meanings (see Wikipedia) are really all about white people, not Indians, and how strangely white people act when they get mad money. I mean, to get almost 800 bucks an hour to lobby votes and projects is impressive, and to screw everyone in the process was quite a feat. But Jack Abramoff was no Indian Giver. No, it was the people who accepted the lobby booty, and most of the time it was perfectly legal booty – and will be until the bribery laws are changed.

Not many people know that the Indian reservations are “sovereign nations” within the United States. The laws are rather tangled from years of changes and abuse, but in theory each sovereign nation is answerable only to the Federal government. So when a sovereign nation gives a prominent lobbyist with direct ties to the White House gives millions of dollars in lobbying fees, it expected that the money would be put to good use, such as to better their tribe, bring in more jobs, and so forth.

So sure, Jack Abramoff was slime-scum of the Earth, and screwed the Indian sovereign nations at every possible occasion. However, the funds handed out from Jack Abramoff were mostly legal and should have been used for beneficial and not dumped like Boston Tea Party into the drink (another stupid historical thing).

It is embarrassing how some people react to such politics and dump tainted money. It is horrible insulting to others, so it seems.

A Foggy New Years

The winter fog rolled in the last few days, usually right at sunset and then left the next day after the sun burned it off. Every once in a while a cool front comes through and blasts the air clean and the process starts over again. Not too many people know that winter fogs are common down here in South Padre Island, since in the summer it is always clear and ninety degrees.

At least it isn’t sea smoke. Sea smoke is when the air is so cold that water evaporating turns into ice crystals – it is more common in arctic conditions but can occasionally be found as low as Delaware Bay here on the US East Coast.

A large ship came into the Port of Brownsville and you know how sound carries in a fog, it sounded like it was right in my driveway. I tried to take some photographs but everything looked like gray pea soup – I guess I don’t have the talent or an expensive camera, one.

It’s funny how the mind remembers sounds like that. I was instantly transported to Block Island, where there were at least three very loud foghorns. While the Northeast does get heavy fog other times of the year, the summertime “pea soup” is more common. So those Block Island sounds were running in my mind, like the higher squeal of the Old Harbor foghorn versus the thundering low resonance of Southeast Point.

My ship sounded its horn again, one second on and 30 seconds off, and I was transported back, feeling like I really missed those forlorn sounds that help people find their way back to safety.

Big Yellow Taxi

That’s right, why not pave over then entire beach like a parking lot and put up a boardwalk like Atlantic City and get rid of all those pesky dunes. Apparently, that’s what the Town of South Padre thinks, even though it professes to want a “continuous dune line” so as to help reduce impacts from giant Gulf waves that periodically batter our coast - and we haven't even had a true hurricane here yet.

Perhaps the powers that be are so timid around the developers and builders because they pump so much money into the economy and hire so many Mexican illegals, which is considered good on both points. [Note to self – we need a huge immigration wall there somewhere too, but not blocking our view or hurting our business.]

I’ll grant you that the Texas Dune Protection Act was written so poorly as to have absolutely no meaning, but the intent was to help protect the natural barrier in between us and the sea. That doesn’t mean the Town has to do the same oblivious thing – although it certainly seems to be that way. Let ‘er rip, Mr. Developer. Ka-ching!

But what the hay! Knock down all the dunes and put in a flimsy boardwalk and stuff in all the new condos and richy-rich-boy houses you can. All those nice structures will make nice storm stoppers for us mid-Island folks. I can’t wait until we have some of the richy-boys sitting out in the Gulf at high tide like Surfside, Texas. That’ll make dog walking so much more amusing.

That’s right, knock down all the dunes, keep raking the beach at least once or twice a day, and every two years pump a whole bunch of shit bottoms from the Brazos Channel to spew on the beach. Sounds like being a perfectly fine environmental steward to me in this political climate.

Yeah right.

Winter Birds on South Padre

Fig. 1. Mottled Bucyrus Erie Crane. It's a 1960 Model 25-B.

We’ve seen a few in the past, but the recent flock of cranes on the Island is quite impressive. Being so large, they have difficulty hiding in the brush. You may have seen large birds like the Roseate Spoonbill or the Great Heron or some real cranes like the Whooping Crane or the Sandhill Crane (real rare here), but the strange thing is that all bird lovers hate this kind of crane – in this case the Mottled Bucyrus Erie.

And they seem to be multiplying and Lord love a duck, evolving into towering sky cranes! Here's a couple caught 'in delictico.'


Fig. 2. Two Cranes Mating. Aren't they cute?

What kind of biological niche do these despised cranes inhabit? Well, they are mainly used for installing pylons in the dirt for hurricane protection for coastal homes. These pylons are blasted 12 to 20 feet in the dirt and then connected to the concrete slab so the hurricanes don’t blow the houses and structures out by the roots. “Hey honey, the house got nailed bad but heck, we still got those pylons in the ground and a good slab, yeehaw!”

See, the pylons are pretty useless unless they extend to the second story or higher. Our house was built with telephone poles in 1970 using the old style where the bottom level was a garage and the upper level was living area. In effect, the bottom was a “blow out zone” in the flood zone so why try to tame Mama Nature? So the telephone poles are tied down to the sill plate on the second floor. The new houses though, are not – and why I cannot figure. Their pylons stop at ground zero.


Fig. 3. Red Cockaded Link Belt Crane. Nice rack on this baby!

But I digress. And don’t get me wrong, I’m all for people making money and building a nice house and doing construction. It is just that our new flock of South Padre Cranes is a little overwhelming.

Fixin' New Orleans

The Mayor of New Orleans is asking and pleading with people to return back to their homes. A few did and a few didn’t like it and most stayed away. The people who work there, many living on real nice fat FEMA wages, all seem to admit that New Orleans is a hopelessly lost cause. It is not just some kind of traumatic social psychology from a hurricane, but also the fact the city is sinking and the water seems to be rising more and more, and will end up worse than parts of Venice, Italy. If you haven’t heard, many of Venice’s most beautiful buildings are starting to slip into the sea, the second stories doing under.

There are two parts to New Orleans worth saving. First the port, where the big ships and barges tie up: we need one heck of an improved highway truck and rail system, hopefully elevated. Not too many people know that the Port of New Orleans is the Number One marine port as to tonnage in the entire US. Our economy depends on that.

Second, I want the old part of town like the French Quarter, take your pick of the exact historical area, and jack that sucker up like 22 feet in the air just like how Paul Getty jacked up Galveston after the Great Hurricane of 1900. So raise that up like an island! Disney and the casino boys would love it but in my book they don’t get it. And for the rest, decontaminate it and level it and open back up the mighty Mississippi and Ponchatrain. Stop playing with the little levies, ineffectual pumps, and drainage gullies.

Let’s face it, folks, none of the plans we have on the table are worth a darn, like fixing levees and bringing in some insipid “New Urbanism” housing. Many of us taxpaying Americans are getting tired of the strange sense of denial and corruption emanating out of New Orleans. A great commercial port and a nice little historical district would suit us just fine.

Dune Project Update

Gosh, the power of the Blog! I never thought people would fear little ole Sammy here but I guess some people do stop by every now and then ... and I hear back about it from the town aldermen and all kinds of "big people" like that. "Oh that's Sam, the blogger man." So, I was asked if I'd update things to say the town WILL have a dune-Christmas tree project this year; it will be a pilot project so we don't need ten thousand trees. I'm happy about that! Way to go, folks!

I mean I've been called a lot of things in my lifetime ... for years I thought my name was Dammit Sam. In my electric guitar/band days I was known as "Texas-T." Now I'm an air quality consultant working for the EPA and various marine ports. But "Sam the Blogger?" That sounds like I have boogers or something, although they don't say it that way.

I must admit that although Blogging has it's scary moments it has been fun, starting with painting the old house (realtor puke beige) and moving to South Padre Island. And I intend to plow ahead ... sometimes in writing and sometimes with ... used Christmas Trees. Gosh can you believe it - sometimes things work out.
See you on the beach,
Sam

Dune-Boggle

Well we did our research and decided that using some used Christmas trees would be a great way to rebuild some dunes along the town beach, many of which had been damaged by developers or hurricanes such as Katrina and Rita. Some of the condo owners don’t like the idea but after losing tens of thousands of dollars from flooding, many are coming around. Why spend thousands on tractors and dredges and such when you can recycle free trees and let the wind do the job for free?

Anyway, that was the concept, with some volunteers and some donated stuff and doing some pilot projects to show that the concept really worked as well as it did in Corpus Christi, Surfside, and placed all up on down all the coast of the United States. We even learned you had to stake the trees down so they wouldn’t wash or blow away.

But everything is so complicated these days. We had hoped we could find a few property owners, get with the town poo-bahs, and point fingers in a general direction and go. Oh no, not so easy. You need several kinds of blessings, permits, authorizations and resolutions, not to mention coordinating with the state and federal gringos. Naturally, the question comes up “Why not get one of our grants?”

Now, we had wanted to do this in mid-January or at the latest the end of January. Have you ever seen any bureaucracy, never mind ten of them, get anything done in one month? Over the Holiday Season? A grant takes six to 18 months. One official even said something like “Hey don’t start collecting the trees yet, Sam, we need to work all this out.”

Now this here fellow is really nice, but hey man, if you’re going to pay upwards of 30 bucks for a tree and maybe double or triple that much for a big one, you’re not going to throw it out on the beach before Christmas. Sometimes I just wish the government would stop trying to help us so darned hard!

The Electric Palm Tree

I remember
The sound of snow falling on the water
With big fat flakes
Hitting the water

Standing by the lobster dock
Staring out to the southeast
On the slippery wooden planks
With absolutely no wind

The sound of only the snow hitting the water
Hit my senses
A soft and cruel caress
In languages unknown

Then I snapped to attention
And looked at what I saw
And what I had heard
And smiled