ANYONE GOT A SPARE ARK? A BLOG IN 3 ACTS

ACT 1

All my life,  I have watched various newscasts showing  some "Blithering Idiot" try to drive through deep rapidly flowing flood waters; only to need to be rescued by  brave firemen or policemen.  Well,  now, when you look in your Funk & Wagnall's dictionary under "Blithering Idiots"  you will see my smiling face.

My grandson, Ethan, had been spending two weeks with Pauline and I in Big D.  He was scheduled to fly via Southwest Airlines back to Austin at 5 pm last Saturday.  There was no doubt that Ethan had had a good time using and abusing the patience and soft touch of Pappy and Nana P (our pseudonyms assigned to us by the children and grandchildren). However, the fourteenth day,
the appointed day, for Ethan to return to the loving bosom of his Mother, Father, Dog, and friends, the "homesick hormone" was in full affect.

From his rising on that fateful Saturday morning, early by the way, he immediately began asking what time his flight was and although he can easily read a clock, continuously asked for the time.
To add insult to injury, the normal blazing heat of August in Dallas has metamorphosed into fall thunderstorms.  Not only had we had a severe thunder, lightening, hail, and deluge of rain the night before, the forecast was ominously reporting severe storms for later Saturday evening.

Homesick or not, all the parents and grandparents unanimously decided they would not allow Ethan to fly unless the skies and storms in both Dallas and Austin had subsided.  Thus began, a series of hourly phone calls between Pauline and our daughter Tracey, the airports, the national weather service, and if they could have found his cell number, Al Roker would also have been consulted.

By noon, the light rains had stopped in Dallas and were waning in Austin.  The radars and weather specialists worldwide prognosticated that the rains would not affect these two cities again before 7 pm or so Saturday evening.  WE DETERMINED, MUCH LIKE NASA, TO ATTEMPT LIFTOFF.

ACT 2

We turned into the entrance (Cedar Springs Road) of Love Field at 4 pm.  It was overcast, but not raining. Luck seemed to be with us,as we actually found a parking space close to the terminal.  Normally, the "maze" Love Field calls a parking garage, is a full and confusing beast, that I actually believe was designed by "terrorists" to undermine American morale.

I was almost becoming optimistic at the ease of the check-in process for Ethan. Security was not crowded and the gate was the second one passed security.  The seats at the gate were mostly full. There were no three seats together.  Ethan could care less, as he used this time to "milk" one last Cinnabon or Gelato out of Nana P.  I glanced outside.  It had begun a light sprinkling of rain.

Ethan is twelve and no longer considered by the airlines as an unaccompanied minor.  His boarding pass number was  B10.  Therefore, he would have to wait to board until all of the 60 A boarding pass holders had grabbed the better seats.  Nana P attempted to get him on earlier with the children, but the woman at the counter refused her request.  Never send a woman to do a job best served by a charming, blue eyed elder gentlemen.  As we waited Ethan was becoming more excited and nervous about the upcoming flight.

Randy, the Southwest ticket/boarding pass agent, approached the dias and began his monologue of, in his mind humorous and silly names for the waiting passengers. He was obviously thrilled with the sound  his own voice and even happier to chat and pat the people as they passed his station.   I assessed the situation and saw a perfect opportunity for Ethan to get on earlier than his boarding pass stated. There was a twenty something, very pretty brunette, wearing a TIGHT miniskirt and revealing low cut TIGHT white sweater in the A Line.  I told Ethan to go get in line directly behind this woman, say hello, and tell her he is a bit nervous about his first flight alone. 

"What about the man at the door?"  Ethan asked.  "Believe me Ethan, Randy will never see or pay any attention to you." I responded. "Why, not, Pappy."  Ethan's inquisitive young  curiosity had been peaked.  "Remember your Raymond Chandler, Ethan.  "She was a woman. A woman the Pope would throw a brick through a stained glass window just to watch her walk away."  Nana P has a wicked right cross and the punch landed squarely in my upper right arm.  I knew better than to look at her, but I could feel the laser death rays emanating from her eyes burning a hole through the back of my head.

Ethan joined the lady in line, spoke to her and enjoyed a hug and smile for his efforts. I can't swear to it, but I believe I heard Ethan's voice change and become much deeper directly after the hugging stopped. Nana P scolded me again.  I think this one will leave a mark.  Randy never saw Ethan, or the next five people boarding the plane.

Everyone was now aboard the "Big Blue Bird"  The doors were closed and the ramp was about to be backed away from the plane.  Two very intense lightening bolts lit the skies, the thunder rattled the glass of the terminal.  ALL FLIGHTS WERE SHUT DOWN.

The rains came.  It is now impossible to get Ethan off the airplane.  It was a relatively heavy shower for about ten minutes. It seemed to dissipate and no more lightening or thunder was heard nor heavy winds detected.  Southwest got the "Green" light to resume flights.   The radar application on my Iphone, however, indicated more and severe weather headed our way from the West.  It appeared to be on the other side of Fort Worth.  It was currently about 40 to 50 miles to the west of Love Field.  There should be "plenty of time" for Ethan's plane to takeoff and be out of harms way.

The plane did not move.  It sat there, engines running, wing lights on; not moving, taunting our patience and nerves.  Will it go in this "window of opportunity" or cancel; and release its cargo of weary nervous passengers?  The rains had returned. Steady, gentle rain at first, but increasing in intensity with every minute we waited.

The Big Blue plane began to move and within five or so minutes it was taxing toward the runway.  The rains still intensifying, but not yet torrential.  Randy, our effervescent gate master/emcee, advised us that the plane was cleared for takeoff.  Raucous Randy advised, Pauline and I, we could now feel comfortable about leaving the gate to go home.

ACT 3

Pauline was calling Tracey on my cell phone to inform her the plane had taken off about 30 minutes late.  As they talked, I noticed Pauline had to raise her voice to speak over the noise of the now torrential rain hitting the metal roof of the terminal.  The scene outside was impressive, the rain was coming down in a wave like motion.  All the outside baggage, mechanical personnel we running for the cover of the terminal.  We continued on to our car trepidatiously worried about Ethan, but resigned to the fact, there was nothing we could do.  Hopefully, by now he was well above the storm clouds.

The parking garage was across a short street and was uncovered between the terminal and the garage.
Getting very wet, very quickly lay ahead of us.  I grabbed Pauline by the arm and thrust us toward the garage.  Surprisingly, we made it to the garage wet, but far from the soaking we expected.  Retrieving the car,  we discussed, taking our time going home due to the weather. Little did we know that our adventure was just beginning.

Exiting the garage, the rain required the full power and speed of the Infiniti's windshield wipers. The heavy drops were pounding on the roof making it almost impossible to talk. Cedar Springs Road exiting Love Field is a straight flat multi lane road.  At the stop light, it intersects with Mockingbird which then leads east to the North Dallas Tollway.  Normally, the fastest way back to our north Dallas abode. 

Nearing the stop light, which was green, all traffic had stopped.  A Lexus SUV was directly ahead of me.  The other lanes were blocked by various cars and trucks.   Behind us, the traffic attempting to leave the airport was stacking up blocking us all in. 

Mockingbird was a torrid of rushing rising water. The higher pickups and some SUVs were attempting to navigate through this hazard, some made it.  One, a Nissan MiniVan, died in the middle and began floating toward the ensuing traffic.  A street lamp and high curb impaled the Nissan, stopping it before it hit any other vehicles.

The Lexus was just ahead of Pauline and I. The stop light weaved perilously in the high wind and rain.  There were now waves of water gushing west to east on Mockingbird.  Worse the water on Cedar Springs where we remained blocked in was rising quickly.  I turned off the car, in an attempt to save the engine. I tested the electric windows to insure we could lower them in an emergency.  Now all we could do is wait.  Pauline is not a great swimmer and was nervously machine gunning questions about our situation.  Questions,  I had no answers to.  All we could do is not panic and hope the water subsided.  

I knew we were really in trouble when I saw "Annette" and "Frankie Avalon" wave as they surfed by.
The waves were getting higher, the water rising, then what we all determined to be a" sign from above," happened.  A Corvette (a very low to the ground sports car) came down through the water of Mockingbird and turned into Cedar Springs.  Leaving the rest of us questioning if a Corvette can make, surely we can. 

The rain seem be stop.  The Lexus moved forward and attempted to turn on Mockingbird, it lost control and managed to float into a Chevron station above the water line.  It was our turn.  I saw high ground directly in front of us and decided to try for the higher ground of Cedar Springs. As I accelerated, the rain returned with a vengeance.  Slowly entering the water, the Infiniti was hit by two waves caused by other traffic and wind.  The broadside wave started the rear of the car to drift, but I managed to straighten the car our just in time for the Cedar Springs Tsunami to hit the front of the Infiniti; lifting and dropping it or high ground.  The engine died.

The theme song from Gilligan's Island began running through my head.  The intrepid crew of the
SS Infiniti Minnow was now safe on high ground, stranded on an uncharted Isle near Mockingbird and Cedar Springs.  Pauline and I were safe, but it took the sacrifice of our old friend the Infiniti.  Little did we know that during our experimenting with possibly investing in Inifinti submarine stock, that Ethan and his Big Blue Bird had been stuck on the tarmac. It was now 7 pm, almost two hours since the plane had left the hanger.  It finally departed for Austin.

AAA arrived about an hour later.  The driver attempted to jump start the car, but it was obviously locked up, due to water in the engine. It is now, 8 pm Saturday night. Where isa video crew when you need it.  It took the wrecker driver and myself to hoist my barely 5'1" short legged, Pauline into the very tall cab of his Kenworth wrecker.  The wrecker returned the us to the safety of our house at about 8:45pm. The Infiinti sitting out in front of the house, was a lonely testament to the day's events.  I felt like I was looking a long time pet of the family which I was just forced to put to sleep.

If there is a lesson to be learned from this experience, I now have room in my garage and totally understand why Leroy Jethro Gibbs of NCIS is constantly building boats in his basement.

Authentic Chuck Wagon Chili Recipes, etc - NOT FM A FAUX CHEROKEE

Most of the time, when a "celebrity" is born or raised in a small town, his or her names are used for streets, football stadiums, or at the very least a simple sign.  On the other hand when "faux celebrities"suddenly raise their heads and open their mouths, ridicule not pride is forced on the true citizens of these unassuming bergs.We proudly acknowledge, Boone Pickens, Clu Gullagher, etc as celebs fm Hville.  BUT WHO THE HELL IS ELIZABETH WARREN??? 

Elizabeth Warren the Harvard Pocahantas, parents were allegedly married in Holdenville, Oklahoma; the County Seat of Hughes County, Oklahoma.  They lived in Wetumka, Oklahoma, another Hughes County town, about 20 miles from Holdenville.  I am from Holdenville.  I grew up there, graduated from High School and still visit my parental homestead where my Mother resides.

Not to start another birther issue, but after seeing the copy of the Marriage Certificate, published on the net to prove the marriage of Squaw Warren's parents, I have to question it's authenticity.  It looks awfully Hawaiian to me.  It is the first Hughes County document, I have ever seen that reads: Aloha from the Great State of Oklahoma. 

Okay, I admit it, I do not speak Cherokee.  So perhaps, Aloha is a Cherokee word, I am not familiar with.  However, and please forgive me if I have forgotten my Oklahoma history, but I do not remember a "pineapple" being part of the Oklahoma State Seal. 

Enough ranting and raving the purpose of this blog is to pass along some true Hughes County, Holdenville recipes.  Unlike the bogus submissions of recipes by Forked Tongue Warren.
She even includes a recipe for "Yankee Pot Roast" in her book.  The Yankee doesn't know the difference between a Corn Pone and a Turnip Green.

Recipes:

CANTRELL’S CAULDRON CHILI/DEVELOPED FROM ROGERS BARN CHILI  - CIRCA 1910

CHILI RECIPE

2 LBS CHILI MEAT

1 BUNCH SPRING ONIONS

1 YELLOW ONION

4 JALAPENO PEPPERS

2 SERRANO PEPPERS

1 PINT CONTAINER OF CHERRY TOMATOS

SPICY V8 JUICE

1 CAN OF BEER

1 TBSP SUGAR

3 CLOVES GARLIC

1 BUNCH CILANTRO

2 CANS OF DICED CHILIS

CUMIN POWDER

CHILI POWDER

WORCHESTERSHIRE SAUCE

BEANS MAY BE ADDED IF DESIRED

2 CANS OF PINTO BEANS WITH JALAPENOS

TO A LARGE STEWING POT ADD:

LARGE CHOPPED YELLOW ONION, CHOPPED SPRING ONIONS, INCLUDING GREENERY, SLICE TWO JALAPENOS(LEAVE SEEDS) AND TWO JALAPENOS (WITHOUT SEEDS), SLICE THINLY SERRANO PEPPERS, SUGAR, CHERRY TOMATOS (HALVED), SMASH AND CHOP GARLIC, TWO CANS OF DRAINED CHILIS, 1 CAN OF BEER, 2 TO 3 TBSP OF CUMIN AND CHILI POWDER.

DRAIN AND WASH MEAT -  PAT DRY - 

QUICKLY BROWN MEAT IN A MIXTURE OF GARLIC, WORCHESTERSHIRE, CHILI POWDER AND CUMIN.  DRAIN MEAT AND ADD TO STEWING POT.

COVER INGREDIENTS SLIGHTLY WITH THE V8 JUICE AND BEER..  BRING TO A FAST BOIL, THEN SIMMER FOR TWO HOURS OR LONGER -  MAKE SURE AND STIR SEVERAL TIMES, IF MORE LIQUID IS NEEDED ADD MORE V8.

FOR BEST RESULTS, COOK, COOL, AND REFRIGERATE OVER NIGHT.  THEN REHEAT VERY SLOWLY WHILE CONTINUING TO STIR.

ADD CILANTRO JUST BEFORE SERVING. GARNISH WITH MORE CHOPPED ONIONS AND JALAPENO PEPPERS TO TASTE.  MEXICAN JALAPENO CORNBREAD OR TORTILLA ON THE SIDE.

HAM LOAF RECIPE FROM NANA TAY

3 POUND LOAF – 2 POUNDS GROUND HAM  1 POUND GROUND PORK

1 CUP MILK

1 CUP CORNFLAKE CRUMBS

PEPPER

3 EGGS

MIX ALL INGREDIENTS TOGETHER AND PUT IN A GREASED PAN (PLACE PAN IN PAN OF WATER)

COOK UNCOVERED TO BROWN -  BAKE 15 MINUTES AT 425 DEGREES

THEN COVER AND COOK FOR 1 HOUR 45 MINUTES AT 350 DEGREES.

HORSERADISH SAUCE

1 SMALL CARTON OF SOUR CRÈME

3 TABLESPOONS OF HORSERADISH

MIX WELL  -  REFRIGERATE FOR AT LEAST ONE HOUR PRIOR TO SERVING.

Bon appetit'

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Foibles by Arthur: THE HIGH COST OF PROGRESS

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THE HIGH COST OF PROGRESS

Science fiction writers for years have predicted that the robots/machines will control the world.  I also believe it is a biblical prophesy come true.  "The Meek shall inherit the earth."  Only now it appears that due to a lack of spell check for biblical scholars, the quote should be:  "The Geeks shall inherit the earth."

Progress comes at a steep price.  To paraphrase Clarence Darrow, "With the invention of the telephone we lost the charm of sitting on the front stoop sipping lemonade and chatting with the neighbors.  The airplane stole the majesty and mystery of flight from the birds; and the clouds smell of gasoline."  In my generation the convenience of the telephone must have been the device of the 1950's that drove our parents crazy.  We would spend endless hours on the phone talking with friends or girlfriends about major hormonal issues which in the grand scheme of things did not amount to a "hill of beans."

But at least in those days, we did actually have contact with our friends.  It was called "dating" not a virtual computer image or text, we dressed up and went to the movies, or to get a hamburger, etc. This meant you actually had to "talk" to your date.  For hours you had to entertain or be entertained by a fellow human being.  Remember how difficult it was to be as debonair as Cary Grant when you were a pimply faced, adolescent with crooked teeth. 

Somehow we survived those days only to beget a generation of video gamers with a genetic twist toward the birth of better living through technology.  And they, they beget the generation of "chippies."
Children who, I swear have cell phones in the womb. I was mortified when my two year old grandson, could locate and order a free site on my cell phone.  I can barely return emails.  This is child that cannot say his ABC's but can take a cell phone find "Sponge Bob". order it, apply it to my phone and play it.
I thought grandparents were supposed to be a mentor to the grandchildren and teach or at least guide them on a path to make their parents go insane.  Aah, revenge is sweet. Now they are the teachers, we are the techno challenged peons only necessary to make cookies or be the most convenient of personal ATM machines.

This virus is being passed from generation to generation and now has infected my wife. Her Christmas present this year was an electronic device for reading books, playing games, or watching movies. Obviously, they have given up on me, because as usual, I was given several different shower soaps, and canned body sprays.  I must be very low on the Darwinian chart and not considered capable of using technology higher than necessary for the maintenance of my personal hygiene.

I regress, back to the issue of the "invasion of the grandmother snatcher".  Nana/Pauline is now a "zombie"  to Kindle.  At first, I thought she wanted a Kimber (one of the best handguns made) and I was so proud.  But when I showed the catalog to determine her model of choice, I was awarded with the obligatory smack on the back of the head and shown her choice in an ad from one of those foo foo women's magazines.

Now she is completely engrossed in her electronic junkie world.  There are games, like Angry Bird, Words with Friends, Bejewelled, etc.  This could normally be a god send, but each of these games, has the most obnoxious sound effects and musical scores reminiscent of early black and white stag films ( or so I am told). Okay, you're saying to yourself, "what's the problem?" She's occupied and you can do what you want. 

Wrong.  Now I am expected to play with her or her friends on this electronic scrabble game.
It's about as exciting as watching paint dry.  Of course, all this wonderful interaction with her and the machine, and the nameless orgy participants in this event, always occur during a great Bowl game or just in the crucial gunfight moment of the 900th reshowing of "The Sons of Katie Elder." Come on girl, get your priorities straight.  Game or football.  Game or John Wayne.  What are you smokin'?

Two other issues, I must vent on.  I heard today there is a new magic pill that when you swallow it, there is a microchip inside.  This chip stays in your body and transmits medical data to you or the doctor of you choice.  It monitors what time you took your pills and how they affect the blood pressure, sugar levels, etc.  It also reminds you if you have forgotten to take a pill.  The scary thing about his device is that it also tracks your caloric intake and reports back on your diet.  So now, when I am on my everlasting and eternal (even in Heaven, I expect God to put me on a diet), cut back of carbs, I can no longer "sneak" a quick burger or venture into an all you can eat Chinese restaurant. 

Last,let's discuss SIRI. SIRI is a new system being used on cell phones.  It allegedly allows you to give verbal requests to your phone (almost hands free) and set appointments, make calls, check your calendar, etc.  It is great idea and if I can't figure it out, I know my two year old grandson can explain it to me.  The problem is SIRI also can be educated to give you verbal warnings and reminders.  Be careful where you leave your phone, as I discovered that Pauline had entered some commands, I was not aware of.  Imagine my surprise when I ordered a burger. fries and beer only to have my phone chirp in "Waitress, please cancel that order, Mr. Cantrell misspoke.  He will have a house salad, no dressing and a cup of black coffee." 

There is no escape.  "THE GEEKS HAVE INHERITED THE EARTH."

Helping our Wounded Warriors

Art,

Tom Forman here, I wanted to let you know that I have been working extensively with the Wounded Warriors over the past year teaching them Combat Cane Fighting.  I have had great success with helping the Marines and now the Army wants to have me start teaching their wounded soldiers. 

Please take a look at www.valhallasecurity.com and you will see a link on the home page at the bottom right, that link will direct you to the Warrior Cane Program.  I am expanding the Wounded Warrior Combat Cane Program so that we can train Wounded Warriors as Instructors and get them working with their Brothers and Sisters in Arms.  You will see that there is a donation tab, I am getting this out to anyone who may have an interest in donating canes to our Wounded Warrior Veterans.  These cane donations are 100% tax deductible.

Also, please forward this to anyone you may think would want to help our Wounded Warriors.

Thank you.

Stay Safe, Be Ready!  TM

Thomas S. Forman

Valhalla Training Company

Valhalla Shooting Club

236 South Third St. #316

Montrose, Colorado 81401

Cynical thougts for a lazy Sunday afternoon

In the fog of youth, a Sunday afternoon nap was a spontaneous, passionate, somewhat sinful romp under the covers; followed by a snooze of satisfaction.  Today, a Sunday afternoon nap’s only concern about positions is: “Which sofa do you want?’

In response to the rhetorical political palaver being spewed by pundits of both sides of any issue, I retorted with a “Fair & Balanced” barrage of methane tainted comments.

 What a bad day, being stuck in traffic on a hot afternoon while the man in the next car is harvesting the stalactites & stalagmites from his nasal caverns.  YOU’RE A NOT INVISIBLE IN YOUR CAR!!!

The remembrances of your hometown can be a pleasant interlude into a simpler times; the curse of reality is returning home for a visit.

Poets say your first love is you best and most exciting; to insure you maintain this illusion, never attend your high school reunion.

Doctor’s now say that moderate alcohol intake is good for the memory.  Great, so all these years of drinking to forget are just wasted time?

Darwin could not see that our evolution might turn us into obese albinos from spending no time outside or getting exercise.  Why should we, our cell phone do it all.

When cloning is perfected it will eliminate all need for sexual intercourse & marriage.  Just a world of “Mini  Mes”  running around agreeing with each other.

There must be a God & God must have a sense of humor.  Why else would everything fun in life be illegal, immoral, or fattening.

It has always impressed me how important & intimidating political crisis are and how they seem to tame so quickly; when  Congressional or Presidential vacations are scheduled.

The proponents of TGIF (Thank God it’s Friday) must all be single & have never faced  the dreaded Saturday “Honey Do” list.

If reality TV is reality; I’ll take fiction.

Valhalla Shooting Club Texas

Ladies and Gentlemen:

I am proud to announce that I am now associated with the Valhalla Shooting Club Texas, opening soon in Addison.  This is the newest and most innovative concept in Shooting and Training facilities in the nation.  With its beginnings in Colorado, Valhalla has grown into an internationally recognized corporate, public, military, and law enforcement facility for specialized self-defense protection training; not only in the safety & proficiency of firearms usage, but also in hand to hand, knife, & cane fighting techniques.

Whether you are twenty, or over eighty, the training and confidence building will be customized to your needs & abilities.  This is not your Grandfather’s shooting range.  Moving and specialized targets, as well as scenarios, are prepared to give you a unique lifelike adventure.  All this in a highly comfortable Country Club atmosphere that will allow you to proudly bring your clients, wife, family, or to show new potential clients how you can think outside the box.

Centrally located in Addison, Texas, Valhalla is within minutes of Addison Airport, several hotels and within a short drive on the tollway to downtown Dallas, DFW airport and Love Field. Viewing this link:),Valhalla Shooting Club introduces the Valhalla Shooting Club, Texas concept with a clips from Valhalla Founder, Thomas Forman, ABC World News & a Comedy Central segment shot at Valhalla’s first location in Colorado.

Some of Valhalla’s current members include:  General Norman Schwarzkopf, Mr. & Mrs. Ted Nugent, Vice President. & Mrs. Dan Quayle & Kareem Abdul Jabbar.  Corporate clients include Cartier, HP, and Texas Instruments.

We anticipate opening in early 2012. Currently, we are considering applications for our “Founding 50” members, who will enjoy special membership benefits and privileges.

The Robb Report stated Valhalla is: “One of the six most essential memberships in the world.” 

Please contact me for even more specific information.   I look forward to discussing  the adventure & advantages of Valhalla with you soon.

Sincerely,