Rumsfeld's Rules

It is easier to get into something than to get out of it.

In our system leadership is by consent, not command. To lead, a president must persuade.

Be precise. A lack of precision is dangerous when the margin of error is small.
from a list compiled by Don for W's Chief of Staff
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"The truth is, Mr. Rumsfeld, with his no-nonsense ways, comes across as tremendously appealing, and not only to the senior set. For starters, the world loves a winner, and under Mr. Rumsfeld's management the U.S. military has just vaulted from what certain quarters of the media characterized as a "quagmire" in Afghanistan to decisive victory over the Taliban in less than three months. That record would confer a certain allure even if the secretary never bothered to show up in the briefing room. " Claudia Rossett, The Wall Street Journal, 12/31/01

The alluring Secretary, it would appear, is on Laura's shit list. She (and I) knew that the fanatically self-assured seeker of nosegays and treats from grateful Iraqis was a big, fat liability, a jerk and a liar. Bob Woodward, lately of the Washington in-set, has rent a mighty tear in the iron curtain separating the DD boobs running our government from the body politic. What? Does Woodward have a terminal illness, prompting a come-clean opus? Did the non-psychotic division of the CIA put a gun to his head, forcing him to tell all?

I would rush out and buy a copy of State of Denial to be published this week, I guess, but I still think Woodward is a putz and a dissembler, and I wouldn't give him 35 cents. But I will check it out of the library when I can.

18, 17, 16 ...

Just like an Easter egg hunt. So far I've discovered 18 and 17, so that leaves 16 more. Poor number 17 was struck by a hit-and-run park enthusiast, it appears.

I read last night where one of the City Fathers said this about destroying priceless public land:

"____________ used to be a beautiful town. It had a lot of jobs from the factories. So we want to see that again. "

So there will be a golf ball factory? Cool!

Litterbugs not welcome!

Attention, Triatheletes and all World Class sponsors of same!

The object here is a piece of plastic crap that will choke a bird or other creature, degrade the environment or possibly just sit where it is and look ugly.

nightmare in the dunes # 1

Autumn in the Dunes

Take a good look.

This would be bulldozed to make way for the 18th tee on the proposed Jack Nicklaus signature golf course on Lake Michigan.

I was taking a break from shuffling boxes and furniture this afternoon and decided to walk the beach. The morning was very gray, windy and wild, but the sun reappeared, and it was a glorious afternoon. I climbed a short dune to the left of this walkway, and what should I find hidden but a neon orange marker with "18th Tee" on it.

The fools are going to level the dunes!! I took a lot of pictures, and I am going to try to meet with the person who is in charge of the save the park initiative before I depart this shore for the opposite one.

Morning sky

September and October offer magnificent skies. More reliable than April, which is unlike anything else when it behaves as it should, September and October give us days of astonishing clarity.

This was taken rather early in the day. The beauty of it made me smile. Even more radiant mornings appear later in the season, so this was a lovely preview.

Yesterday

We're experiencing October in September this week. A stiff breeze swept the lake into whitecaps and threw sand in our eyes. Undeterred we walked down to the shore to spy any birds who might like their picture taken and to see of the lake had produced any treasures.

I love the lake 365 days a year. Still, clammy ninety-degree heat is a bit much. Extreme cold and wind make you glad you own longjohns and fat mittens, but they won't keep me away.

RAM tough

I enjoy feeling cranky once in a while. Today has given me several opportunities to indulge. It’s not exactly one of “those” days, but sufficient evidence of me-me-me!! Syndrome has presented itself.

First off, I’d like to thank the sophomoric master of the universe who drove his truck onto the beach, first traversing its length in between the road and the lake and then going for it, grinding all the gears (except the ones in his head) in a muscular push to motor it along the shoreline. Behold the result.

Moneyed beach combers informed us that four years ago a brand new $80,000. Hummer and its owner found themselves in similar straights. Fortune smiled upon them in that instance, because beachcomber’s husband propelled his old time Hummer onto the sand and pulled the $80,000. Hummer team out of the drink. They actually went all the way into the water.
Ha ha. Are you laughing yet?

(There is a squiggly red line under the second ‘ha’. That’s annoying me, too.)
Second, my approbation extends to the six (6) females departing the caffe with two f’s, allowing me to hold open the door for them with nary a peep of thanks. I rewarded myself by stating, “Rude, rude, rude.” Am I turning into my Aunt Marion? She quartered no low class behavior from anyone. My mother was a trifle more circumspect, but not much.

Last, may I please take a moment of your time to recognize the Mercedes SUV which awaited my removal of myself and my car from a desirable parking space. The driver - license plate ‘Funzini’ - grew impatient at my needless seconds-long stowing of my purse and laptop and gunned the accelerator in disgust.

Just then I felt an urge to dust the dashboard and powder my nose. She screetched her vehicle around the corner, failing to stop as required by the sign, blazing past the old folks hotel in search of another slot.

It’s Friday in the sunset coast.

Friday bird blog

Meet Mrs. Mallard Duck, mistress of the North Lake, an adorable pond, where she apparently lives by herself, except for frogs, herons and other passers-by. She greets everyone with uninterrupted quacking, paddling all through the reeds and lily pads, commenting on affairs of the day and night with an occasional dip to grab a snack.

Here she waddled out of the pond to get a closer look at me. It would have been bad manners to come to me straight away, so she groomed herself for about 10 minutes, ignoring me and my camera. She must have many callers, because she didn’t hesitate one bit before emerging from the water. Her regulars most surely bring her gifts and goodies. I had only friendly chit chat to offer.

As a rule the female mallards I have observed are hard working and harried, managing multiple ducklings in their care while the males are off in a group smoking cigars and quaffing cognac. Per haps the guardian of North Lake sent her mate packing. The kids were nowhere in sight. All grown up.

Has our advertising been outsourced?

Target says this is Franklin Roosevelt. Who are we to disagree?