Those Wacky Finns #2

Another Wacky Finn post, and so soon after the first! Those Finns never fail to disappoint...

The Eurovision Song Contest has been held in various European venues for the past 50 years. It is notorious for being the Grand Prix of European pop music and it is a very popular event.

In 1974 Sweden's ABBA took the contest by storm and won the prize for Waterloo. This year Finland's headbanger "monster rock" group Lordi walked away with the prize with a record 292 points for their song Hard Rock Hallelujah. My, my...how times do change.

Apparently many of the popsters were quite miffed that a group of costumed headbangers could win the coveted grand prize of Euro-pop, but this contest is won by popular vote and the people had spoken.

Lordi uses excessive pyrotechnics in their act and it required grass roots funding by the Finnish public to raise the money to purchase and transport said props to Athens for their act.

Lordi were slightly controversial due to rumours of devil-worshipping, and the Greek Consumers Union wanted them banned. However band leader Mr. Lordi (real name Tomi Putaansuu) did say that in a choice between God and the Devil they would actually choose God. Also, one of their songs is called The Devil is a Loser, so that proves it.

Some of their other song titles are Rock the Hell Outta You, Forsaken Fashion Dolls, Would You Love a Monsterman, My Heaven is Your Hell and, my favorite, Wake the Snake.

It seems that Mr. Lordi is quite the patriot in his Finland flag hat...

Here is the Google video Hard Rock Hallelujah. You can check out their winning performance on the same Google page as well as some of their other rock videos.

wacky finns, lordi, eurovision song contest

A Fungus Amongus

This morning when I walked outside to go to work I saw this in the mulch next to my lawn. What in the...? I couldn't make up my mind whether it was cool or gross. It looked like bright yellow foam of some sort. Was it a sort of fungus or just simply animal vomit? It looked too well-formed and not slimy enough to be barf. So I took a couple of pictures and when I got to work I did a Google search on "fungus that looks like vomit." Lo and behold there is a fungus, a slime mold really, called Dog Vomit Fungus, aka Fuligo Septica.

Here is what one expert has to say about the subject:

This colorful growth occurs when the mold is beginning its fruiting stage. It can appear seemily overnight causing some people to question what it is and how it got there. Therefore, you can see how this mold got its common name........

It must be Fluffy from across the street.......

The size of this species can be very small (say a Jack Russell terrier who ran in circles too much) to very large (that Saint Bernard ate my burrito).

It's gross and cool. It's Dog Vomit Slime Mold!

What is Art???

I heard the funniest interview yesterday on As It Happens. Apparently an English artist, David Hensel, had submitted a sculpture entitled "One Day Closer to Paradise" to be considered in London's prestigious Royal Academy's summer exhibition. He was delighted to hear that his piece had been selected. Imagine his confusion when he proudly visited the exhibit, looked and looked for his piece, a laughing head, and found only the stand upon which it was supposed to rest!

He shipped the pieces separately assuming that, duh, even an idiot much less art "professionals" would be able to figure out a stand (aka plinth) needed something to sit upon it.

A spokeswoman said: "David Hensel's work, One Day Closer To Paradise, was submitted to the Royal Academy of Arts Summer Exhibition 2006 as two separate pieces.

"Given their separate submission, the two parts were judged independently. The judging panel had assumed the two pieces were separate art works and decided the plinth was better.

"The head was rejected. The base was thought to have merit and accepted. It is currently on display.

Mr. Hensel was very good natured about it.

"I like the plinth as an object. I just never thought of it as a sculpture in its own right".

"What pleases me, though, is that it gives a lot of people the chance to think about what art is.

Which of course leads to the eternal question...what is art? I am not an artist, and though I enjoy and appreciate art I have never actually been able to define it. There is what I call "rip-off art." You know, like a red circle painted on a black square, give me a break. (Apologies to my artist friends whom I know are rolling their eyes at my peasantry!) But again I say, what do I know? I only know what I like.


You decide. Is this art...?








or is this...?

Best In The World

I just realized that I know somebody who is The Best In The World at something. I'm very excited about this. His name is Stan Honey and he is the best ocean navigator in the world.



I always suspected that Stan was One Of The Best because he has a long history of winning ocean races. For as long as I have known him (8 years) he has been the navigator on Roy Disney's state-of-the-art sailboats, all named Pyewacket, Steve Fossett's trimaran Playstation, and has won numerous ocean races on his own Cal 40 Illusion and numerous other boats.

Currently Stan is the navigator on one of the boats in the Volvo Ocean Race. Not surprisingly it is the winning boat, ABN AMRO ONE (aka Black Betty).


So far Black Betty has won 6 out of 8 ocean legs which is phenomenal. There is one leg left to sail, but this boat has already racked up so many points that they cannot possibly be beaten. They have already won the Volvo Ocean Race regardless of the outcome of the final leg.

The sailing in this race is some of the most extreme in the world. The route takes the boats into the Southern Ocean, famed for treacherous icebergs, waves the size of 3-story buildings, and winds that can reach up to 50 knots. Recently they sailed across the Atlantic Ocean and a sailor on their sister ship, ABN AMRO TWO was washed off the boat and perished.

Sailing at this level engages all the senses to a degree that is almost painful:
Sight - one is constantly watching sail trim, the speed and wind gauges, weather faxes, sunrise, sunset, squalls, the occasional visit by a sea animal, the list of things to keep an eye on is endless.

Hearing - these boats are absolutely cacaphonous and it's a miracle that anybody can sleep. Down below every sound in these naked, unpadded hulls is magnified...water rushing against the hull, any minor trim on the winch sounds like its about to be ripped off the deck. Up above you hear the wind, the water, the shouts of your mates.

Smell - needless to say a group of guys on a boat with no bathing facilities, working full steam 24/7, on ocean legs lasting anywhere from 1 to 3 weeks is going to be aromatic. The degree of work output is directly related to the degree of rankness below decks.



Touch - a good helmsman drives by sight and feel, a good trimmer trims by sight and feel, the water can be icy cold and above decks the trimmers regularly get completely drenched by huge waves, the air is either freezing or too warm, every piece of hardware on the boat seems designed to inflict injury and bad injuries occur with alarming regularity.

Taste - perhaps this is a sense best kept at a minimum as meals are designed for ease and speed, not enticement or flavor. On the other hand, to want victory so bad you can taste it is a good thing.

The skipper of Black Betty recently said this about Stan: "Stan's a legend. He does all his homework. Up in the north of Scotland the course got diverted, but Stan had this huge literature of the tides for the new route. A genius."

A genius...and right now generally considered to be one of, if not THE best ocean navigator in the world. Good on ya Stan.

ocean racing, sailboat racing, volvo ocean race

It's a power surge, not a hot flash

I sail with three guys. They're cool , all married and they try hard to understand women. Sometimes we're on the boat for hours. We mostly talk about racing, how to go faster, how to beat other boats, what we're going to do next, etc. But sometimes we talk about other stuff too.

Last Saturday one of the guys said his wife is going through menopause. I told him, "Oh yeah, I did that years ago. The hot flashes were annoying but other than that it was kind of like adolescence."

He asked me if I'd had mood swings, if I got bitchy, that sort of thing. I said "I don't think I was any bitchier than usual," (of course I'm kind of a witch anyway), "the only difference is before menopause I felt guilty when I was a crank, during menopause I felt just fine about it. In fact it felt fucking GREAT! It still does."

They were silent for about 30 minutes after that. I wonder what they were thinking? I didn't ask, I just enjoyed the quiet.

EBCB

I am not a breakfast person. My breakfast used to be a small pot of espresso. I gave up coffee so now it's a cup of tea.

But the odd thing is, I really LIKE breakfasts. Or rather I like the food that is breakfast. I just don't care to eat a big meal first thing in the morning. Nevertheless, for some time now I have been completely enamored with a blog of cafe reviews called eggsbaconchipsandbeans. It is written by a very clever chap, Russell Davies, who waxes eloquent on his passion, the full english fry up.


"Those chips are just huge and delicious. And that egg is like a splendid yellow volcano. There's a bean element making a tiny bid for freedom. The bacon is a solid force of conservatism and traditional values."


He turns a plate of eggs, bacon, chips and beans into pure poetry, bringing back pleasant memories of my youth traveling through England. The first time I was ever served an ebcb I was positively horrified at a breakfast that included beans and french fries.

Not wishing to be the Ugly American and insult the hostess at our B&B I tucked in. First the bacon, usually a safe bet, was outstanding; not skinny and fatty as I was used to, but thick, flavorful, meaty and perfectly salty. Then the egg, fresh with an orange, not yellow, yolk...sublime. Surprisingly the chips were the perfect crunchy foil for dunking into this well of perfection. Then the beans...absolutely delightful with the bacon as you might guess, tasty with the chips (what isn't I ask you), and not bad at all with the egg, very good in fact. It was a revelation of sorts.

It's probably a good thing that an ebcb cannot be found in any restaurant nearby as I would probably get fat from the frequent pilgrimages.

Mr. Davies also reviews locations that are a good place for a cup of tea and a think.

Customer Service Redux

Remember my customer from hell, the one I fired? It looks like they got some sucker to make their chair for them. Please note it is NOT made of Neoprene, hah! I wonder how many prototypers they went through before they figured that one out?

This is from a NY Times article about the big furniture show that they attended:

[GOOD PARTNER], 34, and [BAD PARTNER], 37, of [NAME WITHHELD TO PROTECT THE GUILTY] in San Francisco, had a belt-leather beanbag lounge chair and ottoman with them — a Birkenstock for the body and, with its suede good looks, an upscale update of a downscale favorite. Though they hope a retail price would be no more than $1,800, the prototype cost $3,000 to make. At the fair, [WITHHELD] said, it was approached by several manufacturers interested in producing the lounge.

I wish them much success. Their concept was really cool. Too bad they decided to keep the chair we made for them. As I mentioned before, I signed a non-disclosure agreement and cannot reveal the design. However, it looked quite a LOT like this:





Yes boys, much success to you, preferably far away from me.

A Rattlesnake Almost Bit Me

On Sunday I drove over to Salinas to visit my friend Dayna. She lives in Salinas, near Monterey and Carmel.




It has been raining cats and dogs in Northern California so the hills are still loaded with wildflowers. Dayna has been wanting to take me to Garrapata State Park for a hike that starts at the coast highway, goes up, up, up to the top of the mountain for an incredible ocean view, then down, down, down back to an old barn where the trail begins.

We were near the end of our hike, about 1/4 mile from the barn; I was blasting down the trail when suddenly, in mid-step, I heard a very loud and angry rattling! Dayna said I did a funny little u-turn dance in mid air before dashing back up the trail, my eyes as big as saucers, nearly colliding with her. There on the trail before us was a big old rattler!

He looked about as unhappy to see me as I him, and he did his own quick u-turn and slithered back into the brush.

I like reptiles, especially snakes (in fact we saw two more beautiful Striped Racers on the hike as well), but I sure as hell did not want to get bit by a rattlesnake. That would ruin my day.

Later that evening I started obsessing...what if I had gotten bit by that snake? So in case anybody is wondering, this is what you are supposed to do and not do if you get bit by a rattlesnake:

What do I do for initial first aid?

Because most Californians live in rattlesnake country, a snakebite emergency plan should be developed before it is needed. If you are less than one hour from the nearest emergency room, initial treatment is relatively simple:
*Try to calm the victim.
*Gently wash the area with soap and water.
*Apply a cold, wet cloth over the bite.
*Transport to the nearest emergency facility for further treatment.

What should NOT be done after a rattlesnake bite?

Several DON'Ts are very important to remember:
DON'T apply a tourniquet.
DON'T pack the bite area in ice.
DON'T cut the wound with a knife or razor.
DON'T use your mouth to suck out the venom.
DON'T let the victim drink alcohol.
DON'T apply electric shock.

I especially like the DON'T about applying electric shock. Why on earth would you apply electric shock to a snake bite victim? I would have a drink, however, if given half a chance. Isn't there a drink called a Snakebite?

Anyway, after brushing up on the dos and don'ts of snakebites I think I'm ready to get back on the trail.

By the way, Garrapata means tick in Spanish. I didn't see any ticks on Sunday.

Tiny things/the Pygmy Seahorse

Sometimes I feel the modern world is one sensory overload after another...everything is supersized, superloud, superfast. Superobnoxious.

I like to go under the water and be with other creatures. Even though I am an interloper and have to breathe with an apparatus or hold my breath I feel at home. It's pretty clear where we all are on the food chain. I am surrounded by hundreds of little creatures who are all living their daily dramas. It's always exciting to see the big animals, the sharks, whales, dolphins and turtles, but I think the most interesting sea creatures are those that are the tiniest.

Last year in the Solomon Islands I encountered one of the most fascinating and tiniest creatures I have ever met...the pygmy seahorse. It was so small I could barely see it with my naked eye, no more than 1/8" if that, half the size of my little fingernail. Monty from the boat Bilikiki pointed it out to me. It was the same color as the sea fan on which it lived, same knobby texture, the perfect camouflage. I took a picture with my Nikonos V macro lens, not really sure what I was shooting at. I thought Monty was pulling my leg, that I was shooting at nothing.

This male is pregnant with the eggs of its mate. She was elsewhere on the fan, moving about. It took me two dives of staring at this sea fan before I was able to identify these creatures on my own. I hovered next to the fan, perfectly still, hearing my own breathing and my own heartbeat, bubbles slowly ascending from my regulator, staring at the fan, when suddenly a tiny knob of the fan would unwind its tail and relocate itself...the pygmy seahorse on the move.

There are amazing things to see in the world if we stop and look closely enough.

So Complicated

Every year there is a race from San Francisco to Monterey. Last year my pal Synthia and I raced the Hawkfarm and had a GREAT time. We started at noon and finished in Saturday's wee hours. After we finished we rested a while and then sailed the boat back to SF; this took two days. It was a great weekend, simple, uncomplicated, no rush.

This year my dear Tom is doing the race on a hot sled built by our friend Dan Newland. Tom has to make everything so damn complicated. He doesn't want to drive his car to Alameda and leave it there because he wants to get picked up in Monterey so he doesn't have to sail back. He needed to find a ride to Alameda and he enlisted Synthia's help. Luckily I had to work so I was out of the loop. She was going to drop him off "on her way" up to San Francisco. It's not on her way. But she managed to find some other sucker to give Tom a ride. OK, so Tom has his ride to the boat.

Here's Dan's boat Pegasus, she's a beauty!!

I planned to be in Monterey on Saturday to hike and spend time with my friend Dayna. I offered to pick Tom up in Monterey Saturday day/night and he could stay with us, then I would drive him home Sunday morning. No, Tom wants to fly in a WWII plane Saturday and go to a party in Santa Cruz Saturday night. In order to accommodate his schedule so he COULD spend time with us (me, Dayna and her boyfriend Jack) Dayna and I moved our hiking date from Saturday to Sunday. Of course that means I'm no longer available to pick him up in Monterey because I won't be there. He enlisted his mom and brother to pick him up in Monterey and take him to his WWII flight in Gilroy. They will drive him back to Santa Cruz for his party and I'll meet him there to bring him home.

Synthia will race Eyrie from SF to Monterey, rest, then sail the boat back to San Francisco. I like her style.

UPDATE: Tom finished around 9:00pm Friday. Synthia finished around 2:00am Saturday. That's a fast boat vs. slow boat for ya.