More Plurals

All the talk of plurals the other day got me thinking about plurals for human groups. Failing to find a good catalogue of them, I thought that I would offer some of my own.

A single painter is fine but a brush of painters is always better. But, we should not overlook a crack of plumbers, a board of carpenters, and a wall of bricklayers.

Who can resist a pot of chefs or a swish of florists?

If you have ever been around a farmer then you know that when you get several together what you have is a subsidy of farmers.

I was once a part of a lecture of professors. But, not anymore. Now I would like to be a part of a neurosis of novelists. Most of us wanted to be part of a blast of astronauts when we were kids.

Most of us deal with a nightmare of in-laws at some point.

Professionally, there is a fret of guitarists, a buzz of barbers, a deal of realtors, a collection of preachers, and a treatment of nurses.

Then there is an investigation of defense contractors, a campaign of politicians, a profit of bankers, a lemon of car dealers, an intoxication of drunks, and an indictment of lawyers.

Fresh Wind

I am on the bone pile for the job in Chattanooga. It is maddening not to even make the interview round. It is maddening and humbling and hurtful. I wonder if I will ever work again. If I were asked to write the perfect job description for me, it would be the job in Chattanooga. Well, shucks! During a particularly painful family dinner on Sunday, a nephew gave me a job announcement for the executive director of the Lagrange Symphony Orchestra. What? I thought about it and did two things today: first, I bought a season ticket to the LSO; and, second, I hand delivered an application packet this afternoon. Now the question is, do I really want to do this? The simple answer is, I don’t know. What I do know is that I see the balance in my banking accounts declining and there is no income. Maybe I don’t recognize retirement when I see it and if this is it, I don’t like it.

I feel a “fresh wind blowing against the empire” as Grace Slick sang. I know in my bones that I am not done. It may turn out that I am exactly what the Lagrange Symphony needs. Or, there is something I have yet to identify waiting for me. I have prayed earnestly for meaning and I have no doubt that something will appear. I just have to have patience. I do believe, as the Baptists, that you have to put wings to your prayers. It is not enough to just pray. You have to take responsibility and do something. I honestly believe that God will ask, what did you do for yourself? I don’t want to be the one who says, “I waited on you.”

Plurals

Ever have something that is generally useless, even mundane, but genuinely entertains you? Here is one that entertains me – plurals of animals. Here are some of my favorites.

A colony of ants is not surprising but a shrewdness of apes is. A pace of asses must be somehow related to a congress of baboons. A cete of badgers sounds Greek to me. Alabama anglers long for a shoal of bass while hunters in other regions seek out a sleuth of bears. A colony of beavers make sense but you have to wonder who came up with a grist of bees, a volery of birds, and a troop of bison. I am not familiar with a sounder of boars but know a bit about an army of caterpillars, a rain of cats and dogs, a peep of chickens, and a bed of clams. What fun! There is a rag of colts, a flink of cows, a siege of cranes, an orchestra of crickets, and a murder of crows. Imagine, a rag, a siege, a murder and what is a flink? I like a dole of doves, a brace of ducks, and a knot of eels. Who could not like a convocation of eagles? How regal does that sound? For the pure imagery of plurals, consider a parade of elephants, a gang of elks, a cast of falcons, a business of ferrets. I have never been around ferrets but I gather they are busy little critters. I like a charm of finches, a leash of foxes, and a cloud of gnats (not that I like a cloud of gnats but I do like the words). There is a tribe of goats (that must smell awful!), a band of gorillas, a cluster of grasshoppers, and a kettle of hawks. Some plurals are downright perplexing. How do you come up with a prickle of hedgehogs or a drift of hogs, a harras of horses, a husk of jack rabbits, a smack of jellyfish, or a mob of kangaroos? Some make sense, though, such as a cry of hounds, a hover of hummingbirds, an exaltation of larks, and leap of leopards. Everybody knows about a pride of lions but few have heard of a tiding of magpies, a sort of mallards, a stud of mares, a richness of martens, or a labor of moles. It wasn’t until I got interested in plurals that I learned of a barren of mules, a watch of nightingales, a parliament of owls, a yoke of oxen, a company of parrots, a ostentation of peacocks (although that seems reasonable). How poetic is a bouquet of pheasants, a congregation of plovers, an aurora of polar bears, a bevy of quails, or a conspiracy of raven?. Some plurals are so descriptive that they leap to your mind when you see more multiples – a crash of rhinoceroses, a harem of seals, a stench of skunks, a cornucopia of slugs, a slither of snakes, and a murmuration of starlings. And, finally, to close this out, consider the pure beauty of a ballet of swans.

Motorized Gift

My dear brother gave me an early gift in observation of my sexagenary. You have to know that Tinker has a motor fetish. His idea is that if something can be motorized, it can be improved. If he had his way about it, he would have motorized brow moppers for the chronically worried. He would put motors on his chickens if he thought it might improve egg production. His fascination does not extend to electronics. The cyberworld is a black hole to him and that includes cell phones and email and Google. But, he trusts motors. Pistons, alternators, belts, gaskets, the stuff of an industrialized America give him confidence and the sense of accomplishing more than a man could hope without help. The gift Tinker gave me is a Black & Decker Alligator. It is a combination chain saw and limb loppers. It is a heck of a tool. I unveiled it today in an early engagement with the Privet. True to its billing, the Alligator went through Privet like a rich Republican at an aged widow’s foreclosure sale; or, a feeling Democrat at a cocktail fundraiser for iceberg-deprived polar bears. Here are a couple of pictures of the Alligator.





It is a dandy. It does exactly as Tinker expected. It makes easier work of Privet eradication. But, therein is the reason that I don’t want to use it often. Making easy work of brush clearing is not an objective for me. More, it is not even desired. These few acres are my gymnasium. It has been years since I have worked as hard as I have since taking up the sword against the Privet. I have not perspired as much or drank as much water – I emphasize, water – since playing football in high school. The result is that I have added a little muscle to my aging frame, rendered some lard off my fat ass, and have the clinical evidence of improved health. I do appreciate Tinker’s gift. I will absolutely use it, especially when he is around. But the gift is in the effort.

Hard Lesson

I received a hard lesson from Mother Nature today. Before heading off to Bob from Coffeyville’s wedding, I cut and put the sunflower heads into a five gallon bucket. Knowing that I would not have time to shell them for their seeds, I put the bucket in the washhouse to keep it out of the elements. Today, I settled in to shell the seeds from the flowers. To my disappointment, the week spent in a bucket in a dark washhouse produced sunflowers that were molded and rotting. Instead of the two gallons of seeds I expected from my little crop, I managed to pick out about a quart of seeds. Good thing I am not relying on the sunflowers for survival. What irritates me is that I knew better. I knew that the flowers had to dry but I cut corners and Nature smacked me upside the head. It was richly deserved.

I just finished Tony Shadid’s Night Draws Near. He is the best writer I have read on Iraq. This book is all about lives of everyday Iraqis. It is chilling. I knew these people. Tony begins a story and I inevitably finish it for him. I do not remember ever meeting an Iraqi that did not have a story of personal loss. I remember the chairman of the Taji Qada council pleading with me to help him find his brother who disappeared in 2006. Try as I did, I never found him. It was the cloud under which Lazem Abbass operated on a daily basis. I cannot imagine what it would be like to wake up every day wondering if my brother was alive and, if so, where he was. Estimates are that over 100,000 Iraqis died between 2003 and now for reasons directly tied to the war. The overwhelming majority of them were innocents. Blown up by an explosion in a market or by truck bombs guided toward some public building. Being in the wrong place at the wrong time is deadly in Baghdad. I remember the Abu Graib Qada council not having a quorum for months because of the fear of assassination. Tell me the last time a city councilmember in your town feared for his/her life by attending a meeting.

A couple of my academic buddies are upset with me for my post regarding my version of President Obama’s speech on Iraq. It breaks my heart to disappoint my buds. But, to have written anything different would have been to pander. I like President Obama. I think he is over his head and lacks the maturity and sobriety to be president but I like his idealism. I am absolutely convinced that he is clueless regarding Iraq and Afghanistan, just as I am convinced that most Americans are unaware of the threat posed by radical Islam. Regardless, I am not writing a polemic. I am just writing. Enjoy the stuff I write that agrees with your world view and dismiss that which does not. Far be it from me to try to convince anybody of anything.

Autumn's Here

Autumn arrived a few minutes ago. The steady and depressing descent into winter begins. In anticipation, I stocked up on Vitamin D. A friend of mine told me that it helps with Seasonal Affective Disorder, SAD for short. It plagues me. Every year about this time, I can feel it start. I withdraw. By mid-winter, I am sullen, depressed and desperate. My friend went on to advise that in addition to taking Vit D, I need to eat right, drink less, and get plenty of exercise. This is the year that I beat SAD. I have a sufficient supply of flannel shirts and long underwear for outdoor activities. I’ve told the guy who owns the liquor store where I shop not to be offended if I make fewer visits until spring. There is plenty of privet to be prosecuted. And, I have flexibility. That is important since I might need an emergency trip or two to the beach. If you note that I am slipping under the surface, it will not hurt my feelings if you shout an email at me. Now, I know SAD is a made-to-order Oprah disease. And, trust me, I am embarrassed that I have it. My original plan was to move to the Gulf for a couple of months this winter. That would be easy since I have the Airstream. But, honestly, like I am moving to the beach for two months on account of my mental condition, leaving The Old Goat and Tinker here to take care of the place and each other. How selfish is that? If I had a real job that required me to move, that would be different. Moving because I am depressed is just too silly to admit. This is the winter that I sail through, chin up, jackass-eating-briars grin on my face, and content with where and whom I am. Now, if you will excuse me, I am popping a handful of Vit D then doing a few dozen push-ups.

Return from the Midwest

I arrived home this afternoon after a week in the Midwest. Bob from Coffeyville married Sweet Melissa.. As weddings go, this was strictly top drawer. I was happy to have been invited. Along the way, I got a chance to spend a little time with my little girl – she’s attending the University of Missouri. Great to see her. She seems genuinely happy and is doing well in her classes. She finishes in December. After that, who knows? Show me a man who isn’t wrapped around his daughter’s finger and you’ll have one miserable guy. I admit it. She’s been the light in my life since the moment she was born. (I’ll never forget in the delivery room, some misguided nurse gave my daughter the once over and announced she was an 8, on a 9 scale. I objected vociferously. She’s perfect! )

Spent some time with Big Boy and Queen Bee. Big Boy and I plotted a golf adventure that was sniffed out and crushed in seconds by QB. Guess we will have to play it legitimately.

I buzzed around WitchWoman so much that she took to swatting me.

I did not, however, have enough time to do all that I planned. I missed seeing a couple of my former students who remain dear to me. I did not visit the academic department where I spent my career. Shucks. It just slipped my mind. I did, however, visit with the guy who the president of the university when it was for real. It was a great pleasure to talk and laugh with a fellow for whom I have deep respect.

Otherwise, it was an indulgent week with spirits flowing freely, all sorts of back-slapping, and outrageous lying the order of the day.

Before leaving, Tinker and I worked out the details of me taking care of the livestock while he enjoys a few days of R&R on the Gulf. The place is under my wing until Friday.

Fact is, I am back. Privet, beware. Hostilities commence early Wednesday morning.

Pix of Wild Ass Acres

The weather was beautiful last evening. With such ideal conditions, I took a few photos to share with you. Almost none of the land was open and clear of undergrowth in May when I got busy. I can see some progress.

Cooler Weather

A dry cold front moved through the South and it was a welcomed break from the heat and humidity to which we are so accustomed. I battled in the Privet Wars last Friday without soaking my t-shirt and overalls. And, the temperatures at night made sleeping a sheer delight. I turned off the air conditioner in the Airstream and enjoyed the 58 degree coolness. The only problem is, of course, this means that winter cannot be far behind. I am a warm weather guy. My tentative plan is to drag the Airstream down to Gulf Shores at about 3 pm on Christmas Day and staying there until it is safe -- probably mid-February or early March.

The Old Goat was all exercised today. He gat his car tag renewal in the mail and was sleepless until it was paid. Some might call him anal retentive, me included. No problems, though, because I had him at the Chambers County Courthouse at five minutes till 8 this morning. He likes being first in line. We paid our for our tag renewals then I treated him to a Starbucks coffee over in LaGrange.

The Bishop is visiting Barney's Church and Bar this Sunday. The crowd is expected to be 35, maybe even 40. I offered to assist in the preparations for the annual visit. A sweet matriarch of the parish patted my arm and said, "well, dear, thank you but the women have it well in hand." I can just imagine my daughter hearing that. Which is why neither of my kids are communing with the Anglicans. By my estimate, the Episcopal Church in America will cease to exist in about 2040. There is no youth to speak of. That is really too bad because we are the good guys. We are the ones who take Jesus at his word to love your neighbor, even is he is gay or she is a lesbian. We get a little carried away when we are confronted by Scripture about lilies of the field. Last week the Lectionary had a passage from Luke about in order to be a disciple you had to give away all your possessions. Episcopalians skip over those Sundays. We are far better at writing checks than checking on rights.

The Privet Wars continue unabated. Major fighting was reported in the area of Sharp Turn with heavy casualties on the Privet side. The only injuries reported on the side of truth, beauty and justice side were minor scrapes. From field reports, there are piles of privet chips littering the battlefield.

I will be a foreign correspondent next week. Bob from Coffeyville is getting married. I am attending the wedding, something I am loathed to do but am, strangely, excited about in this case. Nice guy marrying a nice girl. I still like my idea of term-limited marriages. The idea is to marry young. Breed immediately. When the kids are gone, you are freed from the obligation in order that you can pursue your real life. The women I know don't seem to share my enthusiasm for the idea.

And, finally, Tinker has not been feeling well these last few days. It concerns me but he is in the same mold as The Old Goat, stubborn. We were going to plant the winter garden yesterday but he slept the entire day away. It worries me. Keep him in your thoughts, if you would.

Chipping Privet

It has been a good week for forces of truth, justice, and the American Way in the Privet Wars. We had decisive victories at Sharp Turn, Pine Crest, and Garden Spot. The chipper has been a valuable weapon on our side. There are piles of chips now ready for use as mulch around the place. Prior to pressing it into service, I just piled the fallen and waited to burn it at some time in the future. In doing so, I felt the job was not quite over. The chipper gives you instant gratification and definitive results. The best kind of privet is chipped privet.

I took my camera along this morning to give you an idea of the difference it makes to eradicate the nasty bush. The shots are taken during the mop up phase of the Battle at Garden Spot. After removing most of the enemy from the area, there were a few stragglers hanging on at the margins. In the first picture, here is the enemy, the despicable privet. Doesn’t look notorious, does it? Don’t be fooled. This rascal is about 12’ tall and has roots that spawn new privet in every direction. Each trunk is 2-3” in circumference. I have encountered privet with trunks as large as 15-18”. The problem privet poses is that it drapes over lower growing vegetation and deprives light. Hence, an invasive species that is destructive to natives.



After a little work and some hand-to-hand, the privet is gone. Lo and behold, what is this? A black cherry tree managed to survive the suffocating privet. This one was a joyful surprise. The black cherry is a native. This one has a nice shape and is about 8’ tall. In the spring it has little white flowers. In summer, it produces bitter cherries. According to my tree book, this species was one of the first New World trees transplanted to England, in 1629. The third picture is a close-up of the black cherry. That discovery justified the effort required to remove the privet.





When the dust settles, here is result – a big pile of chips. The chipper makes the job considerably easier. Plus, I like the instant justice that can be delivered on the spot. Psychologically, I like to chip the fallen in full view of the remaining privet, just so they know that I am serious and their fate will soon follow suit. I probably should not be laughing hideously as I stuff the privet in the chipper. I just can’t help myself.

The President's Speech

Here is the speech I would have liked for the President to have delivered last night.

Good evening.

I am happy to tell you this evening that America’s combat involvement in Iraq is over. This is good news and my inclination is to take credit for ending the war but too many of you remember my previous comments on the conduct of the conflict. I can tell you now that I had my head up my ass on Iraq. I was for cutting and running ever since the war’s poll numbers dropped below 50% approval. The moment the war was out of fashion, I was in the vanguard calling for our surrender. If you think about it, though, there are perfectly understandable reasons for me getting Iraq wrong.

First, what do I know about military conflict? The closest I’ve ever come to anything military is being surrounded by a phalanx of Chicago cops escorting me to a political rally. I’ve never worn the uniform nor have I ever wanted to. As my bud John Kerry says, the military is for folks who can’t get through school. I went to Harvard Law. Would you really expect me to risk that by going into the Army? But, you knew I had no military experience when you elected me.

Second, I know less about foreign policy than Joe Biden. And, what I am learning is that my idea of bringing him onto the ticket to give me some international wasta was pretty stupid on my part. The boy is a dunce. My background is community organizing in Chicago. I can’t be expected to know about Sunnis and Shias and Kurds and all that. But, you knew that I no international experience when you elected me.

Third, how was I supposed to know that the surge would work? When I said that the surge would backfire and that it would be a recruiting tool for the jihadists, boy, did I get that wrong. But, hey, I’ve never run a business, a city, a state, and certainly never a military, in my life. Say this with me, community organizer. That means that I know how to confer, to discuss, to debate. Occasionally, I’ve had to organize a group for a demonstration but that is a far cry from planning and executing a military maneuver in a shooting war. Truth is, I don’t know how to do shit. I don’t have calluses on my hands. Everything I’ve learned has been from a textbook or from my circle of friends. None of them have ever worked either. So, when asked if the surge would work, it was Bush’s policy and I was trying to take his place so, naturally, I had to say it was a disaster even though, hell, I didn’t have a clue. But, you knew that I had no experience running anything when you elected me.

Fourth, the brief period I spent in the Senate was all about running for president. I could hardly be expected to be an expert in every issue that came along. I was under enormous pressure to fend off Hillary – there’s one tough witch -- in order to get the nomination. I did get a break when the Republicans put McCain at the head of their ticket and he picked that wing-nut Palin – best two things that happened to me. The point is that with all those political machinations going on in my head, it is unfair to hold me accountable for actually knowing where I intended to lead the country. There was an election to win. It was the confluence of cosmic forces – a term-limited and unpopular opposition party president, no heir apparent, the election was up for grabs. And, I went for it. I had no choice but to criticize Bush and draw a picture of him as a moron. It worked. But, you knew that I was a political animal when you elected me.

And, fifth, who actually thought that these crazy jihadists actually believe some of the shit they espouse? I mean, who actually believes in all that religious hocus-pocus? Church is something you do on Sunday and it is good for the kids, keeps them busy. But, I am not going to live as the “lilies of the field,” or give away all I have and follow some preacher, or spend time with the homeless, the widows, and the orphans. Who has the time to do that? Nobody. It has come as a genuine surprise to me that these Islamists actually believe all that Muslim crap. Imagine believing that if you off a bunch of Christians you will be rewarded with seventy virgins. What? So, when I was shooting off my mouth about Bush’s policies inviting attacks against the United States, I was so full of shit that my eyes were brown. Little did I know that these Arab motherfuckers are crazy. Making excuses for them seem to make more sense to me at the time and it played well in the press so I was happy to mouth the words. But, you knew that I was an Islamic apologist when you elected me.

Oh, by the way, let me put to rest this bullshit about my faith. I am a Christian, just as devote, just as dedicated to the faith, as the overwhelming majority of Americans. So, shut the fuck up about Jesus.

Here we are, then, success in hand. Do you realize that I am the first president since Truman to be able to claim victory in a war? OK, that was a little cheap of me but you might want to keep that in mind in a couple of years. Me and Harry. And, did you know that Democratic presidents bring peace – Wilson, Truman, me.

We are sort of stuck in Afghanistan. I like to call it the good war. I had to fire McCrystal for pointing out my utter lack of military savvy. Patraeus is better. He is popular with the press. I have this plan to win the war in Afghanistan. I call it The Surge. My idea is to send a shitload of Army guys over there and tell them to kick ass and take names later. I expect victory in a matter of days. I have a sneaking suspicion that I might be the first double winner of the Nobel in history. If I could win it after less than a month in office, then I am an odds-on favorite to win it after bringing peace to Afghanistan.

I am on the job, presiding over the country and loving every minute of it.

Are you registered to vote? If not, call or go on-line to www.MoreHope.org and a friendly operative will assist you.

Good night, America.