Give me back my phone Mr. Bigshot!

Notice to all current and aspiring politicians: How dare you have the temerity and self-righteous arrogance to vote yourself an exemption to the Do Not Call registry? What? You say you weren’t in on that invasive luxury? Well, how about the intent of the registry? How about those of us that have opted to not receive ANY unsolicited phone calls? How about our right to not receive a phone call we do not want, especially when someone is pushing a product?

Yea, I was as surprised as many of you when non-tangible goods were suddenly labeled products. If you have an idea, or an agenda in these times, it is now labeled a product. It’s hilarious and stupid and unfortunately, it has become the go-to phrase by people selling almost anything. For instance, an insurance policy is now called a product. “You will really like this product, Mr. Marshall!”

“Uh, you mean policy, right?” My question is met with a non-comprehending look.

Back to the danged self-serving politicians calling my house while I’m eating supper and after a hard day’s labor at work (they don’t actually do this. It is a recorded message that comes on after 20 seconds of silence).

I registered to prevent the very call you have taken the liberty to make and I deeply resent it. It is blatant solicitation, and isn’t the purpose of the Do Not Call registry to stop unsolicited phone calls?

Isn’t it enough that they bombard the television stations constantly telling us how awesomely they will represent us? Isn’t it enough that one look at their polished image makes us know automatically that by voting for them they will close the borders or push through that much needed legislation that no one else has ever done?

Heckfire, if this was actually the case, one look at Joe’s big smile and he could sell me a Yugo, and I’d pay list price.

To me and many other Americans, you have less of a product to peddle than the teen selling cheap magazines, and the reason for this is you will most likely make no changes for the good. Not a single danged one. You won’t change anything for the better. History has proved this in spades. Politicians in this country are viewed the same way scribes were in Jesus’ time, as nothing more than interpreters and abusers of the law and this home phone invasion is a perfect example.

If you call my house, I will make a mark by your name and make it a point to vote against you. These characters feel they are so important that they can simply exempt themselves from the very law the past lawmakers passed. They own and operate the law, so they can simply exempt themselves to please not me, but themselves. They forget they are PUBLIC SERVANTS. I wish I could call each of their houses while they are eating supper with their families and ramble on about, well, whatever crosses my mind – after a 20-second pause silence, of course.

On an average, I am receiving four very important phone calls every night to thank me for my future vote for one of these intruders and I have decided that the whole political system is basically representing the political system only and not a single working American. It is a cancer that just keeps getting larger and the doctors are administering the disease.

Back in Rutherford Hayes administration, when you phoned the White House – he answered the phone.

Try to get a state senator or Texas congressman on the line these days and let me know how that goes.

If they do answer, don’t say anything for 20 seconds, and then give them a recorded message of your intentions.

From the bottom to the top official, all we get is promises of change with no results that actually benefit the hard working American. Did we pull out of Guantanamo or Afghanistan the first year our current head official promised (as an example of blatant lemon car selling politics)? Nope. Here we are five years later and more promises that 10 months from now we (read threatening) are again promised we will pull out of a country we invaded 12 or 13 years ago and I might add, has changed nothing, except wound, kill, and mentally wreck our military and their families.

Tell the IRS you’ll send in payment in 12 or 13 years and let me know how that goes, or don’t pay your home taxes for the same amount of time and sadly you’ll be living in a van down by the river.

If you can’t believe the top guy, why on earth would I listen to an intrusive phone call with a 20-second pause while enjoying supper with my family?

Thank you for listening Mr. or Ms. very important current and future law-bending politician.

I’m just another stupid American lemming citizen who unfortunately understands our forefathers fought and died for freedom from a self-serving tyrannical government, and just in case you need a refresher on the word tyranny, I’ll go ahead and dig it up for your future reference: a government in which all power belongs to one person : the rule or authority of a tyrant and/or cruel and unfair treatment by people with power over others.

Yea, the phone call is a little thing, but it sets the stage for elitism and that my friend is diametrically opposed to the term public servant.

BB donates animal mounts to the Eddie V. Gray Wetlands Center

Baytown advocate Bert Marshall donated 2 animal mounts to the Eddie V. Gray Wetlands Center.  One is a javelina (collared peccary) and the other is a  pronghorn antelope.  Both animals are native to Texas and will be used as educational tools. BNC Naturalist Crissy Butcher accepts the two animal mounts.

Baytown Bert and Naturalist Crissy Butcher

Each year, thousands of visitors and school children come to the Eddie V. Gray Wetlands Education and Recreation Center in Baytown to learn about the importance of wetlands and their inhabitants. It is an official site on the Great Texas Coastal Birding Trail.

Other educational offerings include The Wetlands Wagon program taken to schools, libraries, clubs and businesses to educate students and the public on the importance and preservation of wetlands.

Hours and fees

The Wetlands Center is open Monday through Friday from 9 a.m. to 4 p.m., and Saturdays from 10 a.m. to 4 p.m., except holidays. Entry is free. Guided tours and educational programs are offered for a fee. Phone 281-420-7128 for more information and reservations.
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Horse on W. Cedar Bayou Lynchburg and E. Road

The painted and tether horse close to Wal-Mart

 Am I the only one who has spied the painted horse standing by a tree on W. Cedar Bayou Lynchburg and E. Road?  No?  I didn’t think so and like you I wondered if this was a case of neglect, or there is reason and purpose for tethering a lone horse in what appeared to be a small plot of land.

Is this a case of animal cruelty?  Should the humane society, PETA, Houston SPCA, or Marvin Zindler be called?

Well, I thought I would just go over and see if I could talk to someone before I jumped to conclusions.  Hopping in my venerable 4X4 Jeep I call, "The Choppa", I drove over to take photos and possibly get the truth about the situation and this is what I discovered. 

"Get to Tha Choppa!"  Arnold Schwarzenegger

As I drove over Sunday morning, camera in hand, I planned at the very least to get a few photos.  Yesterday, I passed by and the horse was lying down.  At the time I wondered if it was dead.  There were two men and two women unsuccessfully trying to push out a rent truck close to the horse, so I jumped the curb in my Jeep and pulled them out, then inquired about the horse. 

Boy, did I get an education and a good one and on this adventure, I made four friends.

The horse has been in rehabilitation since they acquired it and quarantined from their other horses and for good reason.  The horse was near starvation with bones showing  before it was staked here.  It is on a very special diet to rehab it and they’ve posted no trespassing signs to keep people away, but well-meaning people have been feeding the horse anyway, thinking the horse was starving.

The horse folks building the corral

They showed me on the tree where numerous signs had been posted and each of them had been torn loose.  One of the ladies owns the horse and told me she is a horse person and has other horses and the people secretly feeding this horse are hurting it’s recovery, as it requires a special diet. 

They applied for a permit to build a corral and this has taken much longer than they anticipated.  They delivered the necessary materials today to begin the process of fencing it in and that is how I found them, stuck and muddy truck and all. 

I asked or expected no remuneration for pulling out the truck and after three refusals accepted their money, as they were very sincere about their gratitude.  They were in a great big hurry to build the corral and return the rent truck, so I did not get their names, but I liked every one of them.

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Teach a man to fish...

EDITOR’S NOTE: When Bert Marshall wrote this column in 2006, it fell on deaf ears. Not a single comment.  All folks wanted to talk about was the downgrading of the football programs at RSS and REL because the new school (Goose Creek Memorial) was pulling students from RSS, or the new football uniforms and mascot. Now we are two years behind on preparing young people to enter the labor force. The issue remains important.

Originally published Thursday, June 29, 2006

Teach a man to fish...

Remember the old adage of feeding a man a fish for one meal, versus teaching him to fish and he feeding himself for a lifetime?

If GCCISD would promote the Vocational-Technical agenda of old instead of a general knowledge prepare-kids-for-conventional-college-type high school, wouldn’t there be more people exiting high school with above minimum wage skills?

Most high school students never complete their first semester of college. Why don't we help them early on, to enter the work force with skills that pay much more than minimum wage?

Baytown is in the process of building another High School and we have a smaller VoTech school, the Stuart Career Center, but it is not viewed as a primary option. This school is almost invisible to average Baytownians. If you ask around, folks will tell you we have 2 high schools period.

I suggest we take a hard look at pushing general knowledge (diploma) students with certificates of trade AND a high school diploma. An exiting student would have an actual trade when they graduate, which they could augment at Lee College for a full degree. This could start as early as the 9th grade and all the classes they need would be located at one school.

Baytown could become famous for graduating people who go into young adulthood with success and actual marketable trade skills. Many times a young person exits high school prematurely and finds the job market is dismal to say the least. This sets up a couple of options. One, work for minimum wage and this becomes their life. Two, pursue a life of crime. Three hang out. Four, join the military. Five, live off the government.

As a process operator of 30 years I am shocked at how few craftsmen are available without extensive on-the-job training. When my Plant has an extended turnaround, or new construction we have the hardest time finding craftsmen. What we get are boiler-makers. People hire in on turn-arounds as ‘boiler-makers’ that are not the true craftsmen that the title implies.

In this day and age we have a huge blooming population of young people whose only skill is video game related. Ask the average 18 year old boy to point out the alternator on their new car and they’ll stare at you with a blank look. My Dad could disassemble a car motor at 18 and at 18 I had half that knowledge.

A VoTech Mecca is what this city could become for young people and it’s time the City of Baytown began working to make it a reality.

“Oh! You were trained in the Baytown VoTech? Come in, we’ve been searching for someone with your skills”

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PC Passion - but Never Saw It Coming

 

I bought my first PC computer in 1981 or 82 if I remember correctly and it was love at first sight.  It didn’t matter to me that it was already obsolete.  I owned a computer!  It was made by Radio Shack and was officially named the Tandy TRS-80 or unofficially the Trash-80.  My long time mentor Don Trumps was our church secretary and sold it to me when he upgraded the unit.  It came with a massive printer weighing close to fifty pounds and would print two foot-wide sheets of paper running both directions.  It was as amazing to watch as it was deafening and my bride was appalled when I set all of this up on the dining room table.

I am an outdoorsman to be sure, but also one of those nerdish people who are fascinated with computers.

When I say this, I do not mean that I am a gamer who needs 128 gigabytes of RAM memory on my video card to be happy, or an Angry Birds addict.  Holy hard drives, I’ve never played Pacman, Mario, Frogger, or Duke Nukem for more than a couple of seconds before I became bored.

I am however fascinated by how they work and the vast amount of applications and programs they can run at my command.  I am just as intrigued in 2014 as I was in 1981, so much so that I learned to take them apart and put them together.  I’ve built a bunch of them from scratch, tuning them to the machine I felt I needed at the time.  I can remember when RAM chips were $40 a megabyte and how amazed the guys at work were when they learned I was running an astounding 4 megs of RAM in my machine at home.

My home location is what I facetiously call the OCSC, or the Orbiting Command Ship Central and everyone who knows me, knows I call it this.  It’s where I make stuff happen.  At any given time I’ll have as many as 6 laptops, notebooks, and desktops in various states of maintenance stacked on the giant table with hard drives spinning.

My real passion like I said is not in gaming, but in utilities.  I love to root out virus’.  Recently I got my grubby computer-mitts on 3 dead lap-top’s that were stuck back in closets (because it is too expensive to get them repaired, so I just use my Smartphone).  This is a most common refrain, by the way.  I’ll just use my Smartphone, even though I’m still making payments on my computer.

All 3 lap-tops were dead in the water, so to speak.  They had the dreaded blue screen of death, or wouldn’t boot past the Windows screen.  Now I look at an infected or malfunctioning computer the same way other folks look at a blank crossword puzzle.  I am drawn to it like a fly to the hamburger you are fixing to bite into at a picnic.  I find it irresistible.  I’ll swoop in from work with an infected laptop owned by a coworker, tell my bride I’m going to take it to the OCSC before I shower, and an hour later I’m pecking away at it, while still in my Nomex uniform.

Over the years I’ve had about a 90+% success rate and I figure this is very high, based on the machines I’ve received and repaired after someone else deemed them dead.  I figured after I retired I would supplement my fixed income by doing what I love – cleaning virus’ and repairing computers… or so I thought.

I never saw the Smartphone displacing the personal computer as the default go-to device.

To clarify my statement, I am not ignorant of technology and understand that there will be countless iterations of Internet access devices on the horizon, but please explain to me how staring at a little 2 inch screen and pecking on it can possibly be more desirable than a full-sized monitor and equally full-sized QWERTY keyboard for home use?

Plasma TV power supply repair

I have an Android-based Smartphone with a large screen and use it often, but it is no substitute for the real thing, not even close.  I run two 24 inch and one 26 inch monitors to keep everything where I can see it when I’m writing, reading, building OurBaytown.com, running BaytownTalks.net, or streaming audio/video.  I can’t imagine doing it on a 2 inch screen – well, some of what I do would be impossible to do on my phone to put it bluntly.

I love computers and will always have one, but I can walk away from my PC and go off on an adventure totally unplugged, which I often do.  Smartphones make this almost impossible, unless a person simply shuts it off and disconnects.  After all, who is in charge, you, or your computer?  

Geeze, Bert, you’re mean!

Smartphones should come with a warning on the side in my opinion, which would read “Caution:  Frequent use of this phone when friends are around will make you appear disconnected and anti-social if they do not have their own phone.”

The bottom line is this.  Dig that PC or laptop out of the closet, get it repaired, and when you are out socializing with friends, shut your phone off and disconnect for an hour or two.  You will be amazed what they look like in person.

PC Repair Done Dirt Cheap Facebook page or call me at 832-414-7883
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Enlightenment or Idiocracy and Hashtags?

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 We are living in an enlightened time where almost any question can be answered by simply pulling an electronic device of some sort out of a case, or your pocket and typing – or speaking it into said device and blam, your correct answer – maybe.  You still have the responsibility to sift what you read, hear, or watch and determine if it is in fact, the literal truth.

Huh? #WhatMeWorry

“You mean if it is on the Internets, it might not be true?  Who woulda thunk?”

Unfortunately, there is literally tons of misinformation on the Internet that is incorrect, just like this sentence.  Just because you hate a political candidate and your best friend sends you scandalous or negative information on them in an email, doesn’t write it in stone. 

The way urban legends get started is the writer plans to fool you when they start it by writing a mixture of truth with their tricky fiction.

The second the unsuspecting reader sees the hated candidate’s name and a smidgeon of truth, they feed on it like a toothless starving man with a steaming hot bowl of buttery grits.  They giggle wild-eyed as their hands shake and violently stabbing the send button, they send it to all their other starving grit-eating friends. #ToothlessBum

And they don’t learn a thing.  This behavior continues year after year, even when non-grit eating friends point it out.  Take for instance this new trend called hashtags.  I hate it.  I hate everything about it.  I hate how it is being thrown in my face by every commentator on the news and buttery grit eaters.

It’s time for my version of idiocratic enlightenment folks, so listen up.

More and more often I am hearing people use the term "Hashtag" in conversation, as if a hovering computer is indexing every word they speak.  To me, it borders on absolute idiocy.  It is a Twitter indexing term and Twitter is making people stupider by the millisecond. Now it is working its way into broadcasts, online forums like baytowntalks.net, and Facebook, as if it actually were indexing key words, which its not. 

I joined Twitter, like I do every new thing that comes down the pike (to be progressive in my own education), when it first appeared.  I wanted to stay informed; nothing more or less.  It took me about a week before I dismissed it as blather and fluff.  A year passed and I reconsidered.  Maybe I was wrong.  After all, everyone is quoting Twitter.  Famous people tweet!

The second time lasted about 20 minutes and I closed my account.  There are enough distractions in this life without openly inviting attention deficit hyperactivity disorder to eat grits with me, butter or not #ADHDWithButter.

Now you may love Twitter and that is your right, but one look at the movie Idiocracy and you’ll close your account, I promise, #IWasSoSmartAndNowIAint.  Here is an excellent example of what I am talking about and it was pointed out to me after I began writing this column, #ImMadTooEddie.

Jimmy Fallon and Justin Timberlake, both icons of the generation using this term make fun of the use of this word and how it has schlepped into people’s everyday “conversating”.

In the movie Idiocracy, two under-achievers become part of a US Army experiment which accidentally propels them 500 years into the future. They discover a society so incredibly dumbed-down that they are easily the most intelligent people alive.  Look around us folks.  It’s already began #UhHello.

Take for instance the 7 armored car robberies Houston had in 2013.  Only an idiot would try to rob an armored car with guards carrying copious amounts of weapons and many of these guards have military experience with no compunction against firing said weapons.

Oh, you want another example?  Okay.  Only a person of low intelligence would drink alcohol and get behind the wheel of a car or truck.  What is it now for the first offense?   How about a $2000 fine, up to 3 to 180 day’s jail time, loss of driver license up to a year, and an annual fee of $1,000 or $2,000 for three years to retain driver license?  Then we’ll add in the massive lawyer fees #JustTakeACab.

275 idiots were listed by the Baytown police department for DWI in 2013 and we got us 15 vying for the title already in 2014.  Oh, you think I am being rude #WhoCares?  Well, put yourself in the place of the people who are killed by these morons and the loved ones you leave behind and you’ll change your tune.

Hey!  I don’t claim to be Alfred Einstein or the sage James Finley, but when people idolize celebrities and quote their tweets as if it is the Gospel, I find a quiet place away from the drivel and read a book #ShakinMyHaid.  Then I double check the facts.

Survival, Baytown Nurture Nature Style!

Myself and a small group of men, women, and children hiked down a trail and set camp by a tree line, about 75 yards from a bayou.  The weather was perfect, or so we thought, as we forgot to check the local forecast.  We pitched our tents and without really thinking about it, we placed the rain fly over our tent, ate a great meal around the campfire and since we had a big day planned for tomorrow, we bedded down early.
 

About 1am, we are awakened by a thunderstorm.  No problem, but by 3am, it is raining so hard and the wind is buffeting the tent.  Suddenly, there is a sound we dread – the sound of rushing water and we scramble from the tent, as a wall of water goes over us and takes the tent down with the torrent of flooding water.

We are pressed against the tree line and one of our members believes the violence may have broken their leg.  The only item we are able to save is a lone backpack and we await the storm to pass, in water up to our necks.

By 7am, the storm is breaking and a quick assessment of our situation shows we are about a quarter of a mile from higher ground.  None of us recognize where we are now and it is a bit confusing to say the least, as hypothermia is clouding our judgment.  “We can’t really be in trouble, right?  I mean we were only two miles from the trailhead…” one person says through their chattering teeth.

One of the younger members of our group is inventorying the backpack and calls out what they find to each of us.  “A small first aid kit with some pain meds, lip balm, 2 pill bottles with tinder inside, a butane lighter, a CD of Christmas music, compass, a reflective mirror, some food and candy, a whistle, a space blanket, 50 feet of small cord, sunscreen, a bottle of water, some water purification tablets, a box cutter”, and a couple of other items.

The group decides to give our injured member the two pain meds and using the box cutter, one of our stronger members climbs the trees and begins cutting poles to make a small raft to carry our injured member to the distant shore.  This person is now in great pain and their suffering is taking a toll on all of our nerves.  An argument breaks out over the seriousness of our situation.  A couple of our stronger members want to go for help, but agree to help us get the raft over to the shore, build a fire, secure our injured person, and make a temporary shelter before leaving.

More arguing is caused by the revelation that the young person inventorying the backpack didn’t look in one of the pockets where a large quantity of paper and plastic sheeting was stored and the exhausted child begins to cry further stressing the group, who are now desperate to get out of the water and very cold.  The two alpha personalities, who were working for the good of the group, further exacerbate the stress by arguing who should be in charge.

This particular camping trip never happened, but is a scenario handed to the group I was in at last Saturday’s Nurture Nature survival class, led by the Baytown Nature Center’s Naturalist Christina Butcher.  The second group followed the misadventures of a lone hiker and their group decided what they would do if it were them.

The group I was in had very good input and I feel we all would have done very well.  The stress part was my idea, as I have read many books where this behavior inevitably comes into play.

After our brain-storming session, our instructor added to what we had attempted, praising our collective thought while pointing out things we missed.  She was very well informed, touching on venomous serpents, foods that grow locally, and bringing to our attention little, but important facts we missed.  The group offered many great ideas and we all came away better prepared if and when that information is needed.  Great big kudos to Ms. Butcher and the Baytown Nature Center for these fine programs which are always on the first Saturday of the month at 10am to noon.

Baytown is now big news

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I like to watch the news on the television when it signs on early in the morning.  Like my father before me, I watch the news ad nauseum.  In simpler terms, I watch it till it loops, and then watch it until it loops and loops and loops.  For those readers who think this is humorous, let me say that I “get” it the first time; I just prefer the news to the non-news (read Entertainment tonight), or most of the blather the networks try to force on me like the ridiculous bologna of the Grammy Awards.

I want to go on record as saying I don’t care one iota what Justin Bieber, Miley Cyrus, the non-celeb Kardashians, or the angry faux-Messiah one of them married are doing or saying ever again.

One thing that has changed in the news programs is now Baytown is included in every broadcast.  It’s as if we’ve suddenly been discovered.  Note: It has always irked me when coming up SH-59 that the exit for I-10 directs people to Beaumont – not Baytown.  Maybe that will change also.

The reason for this change in reporting is not Scott Johnson’s great parks program, or Mayor Don Carlos’ charisma, but job growth in the Houston-Sugar Land-Baytown area.  A lot of people work here.  What happens here directly affects them too; like whether or not the Fred Hartman Bridge is ice free.  I like the fact that weather people call it the “Baytown Bridge” and not the La Porte Bridge.

By the way, I do believe I was the first person to jog over it to the bottom of the La Porte side and back.  I was waved off it the morning of the Governor George W. Bush dedication by a security guard after I got off work at 5am, but the next morning it was wide open.  If anyone can assert they did it before that, I’ll give them a gift.  It’s a genuine Cornell Hurd band whoopee cushion I’ve been saving for just the right person.

Speaking of the bridge, the view a visitor gets as they come north is of the marina and Bayland Park.  Has anyone else noticed the gradual deforestation of the park?  This is the place some of John Wayne’s “Hellfighters” movie was filmed, but now a person could throw a fire hose nozzle end to end and not hit a tree.  If you are unfamiliar with that movie, go to Roosters on North Main.  They have a lot of historic tribute material on display.

There are giant pines up by Kenefick that would make perfect replacements for the vanishing forest here.  The young pine-lings are growing everywhere. I think it’s time to replant before we lose them all or just bulldoze the trees to expand the boat dock and parking lot.  One thing is for sure, the current Business 146 double lane situation by the park will most likely become an elevated highway to facilitate State Highway 99 and this is another reason our little sleepy town will be in the news.

The incredible amount of commerce coming from the old US Steel area on the other side of Cedar Bayou will create thousands of jobs and commuters.  I’ve harped on this possibility many times, that as a city, we need to attract and keep people with money by building high-end houses and lodging.  We don’t need more low income anything.  Let attrition and depreciation create low income properties – don’t encourage or build it.

Am I being crass? Heck no.  Take an automobile for instance.  Should automakers create a car for low income people or should the low income person simply buy a ten year old car they can afford?  Unfortunately some do-gooders are simply for the tax-paying population to give low income workers brand new cars and the rest of us pick up the tab and that is exactly what I am talking about on housing.  If you give away stuff our forefathers had to work for, where is the impetus to work for it?

Baytown was just mentioned in the news again and it involves our weather this time.  It is always good when it isn’t crime they are reporting.  Spur 330, I-10, and SH-146 afford criminals easy access to our fair city and they use these same roads to leave after committing crime here.  With the increase in commerce coming, we also need to bolster our city services, especially our police department.

I can’t speak for anyone but myself here and I’m certainly not in a panic, but I find myself “carrying” more and more often these days.  At 3:30am last week I was pumping gas at the corner of N. Main and Massey Tompkins and I had a premonition – something I do not ignore.  Extracting my Charter Arms .44 Bulldog Pug, I checked the action and as I looked around, an SUV pulled into the station and stopped shining its headlights at me.  It wasn’t near a pump and was in the dark part of the lot.

I do not want or intend to be featured on the 6pm news for any reason involving crime, but I surely do not intend to be a victim either.  I have a habit of opening both front and back doors on my Jeep when I am fueling and standing in between them and this is what I was doing.  If someone has an inclination to rob me, they can’t see what I am doing between those doors and it gives me an extra layer of protection to boot.

Maybe they were talking on their phone, or maybe I didn’t project a victim mentality, but I finished fueling and drove off.  I’m glad to finish that story without something dramatic happening.  I simply wanted to get gas and go to work.  Only fools fantasize about shooting someone.

Baytown will continue to be in the news and I am more exited about our town than I have been in a long time.

UG-LEE’S Brings Boudin to Baytown!

I didn’t know there was such a place until I heard about it on BaytownTalks.net.  Holy smoked boudin Batman, I do believe that is the best Cajun sausage I’ve ever eaten.  Leonard Lee gave me a rundown on their quality process and as you can see in the photographs, they are selling what they make faster than they can make it.

I stopped in this morning to check out their custom made products.  While I was there, a discerning customer came in and Leonard gave him an education on their delicious products.  Almost immediately 5 firefighters arrived and Leonard remarked that “It is their normal routine”.

No wonder he can’t keep his shelves stocked!  Ever seen a firefighter put away groceries?

I had an errand to run and left.  On my way back through the area, I stopped in and this time I met the boss, Leonard’s wife.  Talking to her, I learned more about the products and left with over $30 worth of shrimp, Andouille Sausage, and Colby jack cheese-stuffed (and bacon-wrapped) pork tenderloin and a Pork boudin and bacon-wrapped stuffed chicken breast.

For all the naysayers who have complained in the past that Baytown doesn’t have quality food, I give you UG-LEE’s Boudin & Sausage Company!

Cold weather soup & cookies!

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What do you do when it's very cold and wet outside? Make potato soup and cookies.

7.5# Red & russet taters, half gal chicken broth, Velveeta Mex cheese, 3 onions, 2 packs tater toppers, 1.5 sticks butter, real bacon bits, pepper and sea salt, evaporated milk. Cookies are oatmeal w/raisins.

What truly is life?

Life is not what I thought it would be, or rather, I’ve learned that the idyllic life I was expecting to lead is better in some ways, but horribly cruel in others.  This intangible subject of life is one that I ponder often.

My lovely bride and I discuss this subject frequently and it never seems to come to a satisfactory conclusion.  We both agree however that life is not what we expected.  Stepping back to when I was a kid, like most of us, the future was wide open.

*Into the great wide open
Under them skies of blue
Out in the great wide open

That was me and possibly you.  Well, it didn’t turn out quite like that did it?  After high school and four years in the Air Force I gave my life to Jesus Christ, married a local beauty, had two loving children, and spent 37 long years working shift work in the chain link fenced area of a chemical plant.

It is hardly what I expected out of life, but in other ways, extremely rewarding.  The upside was I brought a great measure of security to my family.  I acquired new skills and property.  I worked thousands of hours of overtime.  I learned to repair computers.  I became a writer and author.  In exchange for all this work and commitment, I lost out on family time and this was the downside.

Passing through most of my adult life without serious loss probably put me in the minority, as all of us learn that life can deal us a hand that makes it almost impossible to go on.  Loved ones, friends, and people who are special to us… die.  That’s something that can be so debilitating that our own death seems preferable.

I have a friend who awoke next to his wife of many years only to realize she had passed in the night.  My heart pours out to this fellow and I’m sure his view of life is quite dismal.  I pray the up in his life comes quickly.

I absolutely hate depression or depressing subjects and this is why I couldn’t get through more than a season or so of the award-winning television show, Breaking Bad.  Someone suggested I watch the series Dexter, because “It is so exciting!”  Nope.  One minute into season 1 Episode 1 and I shut it off.  Instead I turned it over to channel 16, our local municipal access channel and watched the Texas Parks and Wildlife’s presentation on prairie chickens, of all things.

Wanda Orton’s column on the antics of Rufus Honeycutt’s father at the Brunson, is the way I choose to see life in the future.  I know there are more setbacks ahead, but I want to see the up coming, even if it means picking myself up off the deck and shaking the dust off after a down.

As a youngster, teen, and man in my twenties, I had no real clue that life for the most part is what I make of it and how I choose to view it.  Guess what folks?  A whole lot of what we see as life is by choice, not necessarily by chance.  Sure, every once in a while a foul ball comes into the stands and there’s not much you can do but cover your face, but this is the exception and even if you are hit, life goes on.

For years I led my life pretty much like an anchorless boat following the current, not realizing that with a little preparation, I could add a rudder and a small motor and danged-well go where I chose.

I can walk into my work place with a good attitude and greeting, or do like most of my coworkers and not even offer a salutation or claim to begin life at the end of their shift.  They are still in the boat drifting and I have a motor.  I’ll take the first choice every time.

Someone said that for every up, there is an equal down.  I think it was the guy who invented the third iteration of Fig Newtons, but I’m not sure.  If you think about it, this is an example of life.  We should be taught as children to not seek a life of pure pleasure and be toughened against adversity.  I don’t rightly know how this can be done in our modern society.  Back in the day, kids had chores and jobs while going to school.  Now they are home more than their parents.

They occupy themselves with anything that can pass the time and it is all based on pleasure.  When the “Fam” can finally get together, it’s time for more pleasure, to “bond the family”.  When anything tragic happens, the kids need counseling, as they are totally unprepared to deal with even the smallest obstacle.

No, life is not what I expected in so many ways and yet, I still have my faith, family, and friends to bolster me and carry me through the low places.  If you are in one of these terrible depths, take heart; you can be sure there is an up coming your way.  It’s Newton’s third law.

* Tom Petty – Into The Great Wide Open

Baytown Bert’s A Cryin’

Imagine you’re walking through a field of thick cane mixed with thorns.  The cane is so tall; you can’t see more than a few feet.  You have no idea if you will scare a rodent, a snake or two, or a coyote out of hiding and you ignore these possibilities and push forward.  Its classic trail-blazing, but you have a purpose and critters are not much of a concern, even though you are in shorts and hiking boots.

You feel the sweat running down your back as a tendril of Cherokee rose thorns tears through your shirt and rips into your skin, effectively arresting you in your tracks.  “Aggghhh!” escapes from your mouth as you carefully extricate yourself from the puncturing barbs.  Your skin is thinner than it was when you were a teen and blood runs down your arm and drips off your finger-tips to the ground.

Your legs are equally scratched with old and new marks, but it’s just too durned hot to wear long pants and you repeat your oft said remark that “If the Brits could conquer the world in shorts, you too can go off the beaten path wearing the same.”  You look at your left leg and see a permanent mark caused by a spider’s venom.  You don’t remember the actual bite, just the two week festering wound that eventually healed.

You stop and lift a bottle of water from your over-sized fanny pack and take a long pull.  Pulling the bandana from the brim of your sun-whitened Tilley hat, you wipe your face and stare up at the sun, letting the wide brim protect your eyes.  As hot as it is, you prefer it to cold weather, a product of two frozen winters in Montana.

Finishing the entire bottle of water, you push on.  As you turn to avoid a chest high nest of red wasps nestled in the reeds, you catch a glimpse of the stubby tail of a cottonmouth water moccasin slithering away just a few feet from your feet and you wait.   The heat is getting to you.  You are only about 1200 feet into the reeds and need to go another 2500 or so to get to where you need to be.

The ground begins to slope down and you hope the water won’t go over your boot tops and you wade off into it.  The thought of more snakes gives way to the thought that anywhere there is water, there are probably alligators, but this doesn’t stop you.  Maybe it’s the heat; maybe it’s because nothing bad has happened in the past, but you find your mind is at peace in this environment.

Crossing over a fallen log, you step far out on the other side, as your dad taught you years ago that snakes often lay right beside a fallen log.  In the middle of the swampy area, you encounter fewer reeds and more briars, so much so, that you ease your El Salvadorian-made machete out of its sheath and begin to hack your way in.  The heat is stifling now and sweat pours off your body as if it is raining.

You check your global positioning system receiver and sigh when you realize you’ve only traveled another 600 feet, leaving 1900 more in front of you.  Pulling another bottle of water from the side pouch on your pack, you steady yourself by placing the machete point against a cypress knee and drain the entire bottle.  There goes half your water and once you’ve arrived at your destination, you still have to walk out.  Your mind is a bit foggy now, but you’ve been here before – this place of exhaustion, that is, and you know your limits.  You always tell yourself this.

Common sense tells you that if it took 2 bottles of water to walk this far, you will need 6 more to get in and make it back out safely, but if you were using common sense, you wouldn’t be here by yourself in the first place.  You push on into the swampy area and now you are wading in knee deep dark water.  You cast about watching for movement and seeing none, you concentrate on your navigational unit and the prize at the destination – most likely a pill bottle-sized camo’d container with nothing inside except a log book and the satisfaction you will receive for being the first to find it.

You know the geocache owner –cryptically known as ThaCatfish is a tricky character.  The difficulty rating is only 3.5 out of 5, but it has a 5 terrain rating.  “It’s probably a tree climber,” you say aloud as your foot slips and down you go into the brown water.  Staggering to your feet, you look around wildly. 

You can feel water running down your legs and you realize with horror that the fall burst your two remaining bottles of water.  For the first time since you began, you doubt your ability to find this geocache.  This one has already turned around one small group and sent two seasoned geocachers to the emergency room – all heat related and you take one look in the general direction of the geocache and wisely turn back.

Note:  Baytown Bert’s a cryin’ - GC3B8ZZ  is hidden off of FM-1409.  Everything in this story has actually happened, but not all of it by me when hunting this cache.  You can watch the YouTube of the actual adventure here:  

The Joke’s on You

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Over the years I’ve been the recipient of a few practical jokes and spawned a few of my own and with a new year beginning, why not start it off with a laugh?

Back in the late 70’s at my job at ARCO Chemical Company on Sheldon Road, a real favorite was dropping a nickel in the soda machine and then filling the coin return with red or green indelible ink.  The price of a soda was a quarter and when an unsuspecting Operator would put money in the machine, it would drop a nickel.  Delighted at the savings, the guy would reach in for change and come out with a red or green finger, which would last a week or more.

The second prank involved taping the black plastic spray nozzle at the kitchen sink with electricians tape.  When someone came up to wash their hands, it would spray them in the chest with water.  One time I did this, and then twenty minutes later accidentally sprayed myself.

I think it was 1979 and one of my younger brothers was getting phone service on Sun Oil Road in Mont Belvieu and seeing that the old rent house didn’t have a phone in a while, they were pretty excited.  He gave me the new number the day before and said to call the next day.  So I did – about 9am.  His Bride, my sister-in-law answered and I identified myself as an employee of GTE, the phone company back then.

I advised her we were “going to be blowing dust out of the line” and to put her phone in a paper sack until it was done.  I hung up and promptly forgot about it until my brother called the house that evening when he came in from work.  You guessed it.  The phone was still in the paper grocery sack awaiting the dust blow.  I found this hilarious, as did he.  My sister-in-law not so much, as she had wanted to use the phone all day.

In 1999 we were starting up a new unit at work and hired a lot of new people.  One particular new guy was a prankster and laughed a lot.  He was infamous for “coning” people, which was the act of placing inverted tape on the inside of a cone-shaped paper cup  and surreptitiously placing it on the back of another person’s hard hat when they looked away.  The unsuspecting person would walk around “coned” and everyone would pretend it wasn’t there and laugh behind their back.  No one was spared including me.  One fellow had three cones on his hat for a couple of hours.

One day “Jeff” and I were sitting in the break room and there was a cheeseburger left over from one of the many overtime meals and he asked who it belonged to.  I told him truthfully it was up for grabs, as were the fries and he cheerfully dug in.  I stood up and yawned and walked straight to the supervisor’s office and enlisted his help in the prank.

He was a fairly cranky guy and in many ways acted superior and he casually walked into the break room after I had retaken my seat.  “Where’s my cheeseburger?” he grunted.  I pointed at the half-eaten burger and as Jeff’s eyes went wide open, he blurted, “Bert gave it to me!”

“I said, “No I didn’t” and the supervisor cursed loudly and left the room.

Jeff said, “You gave to me!  I thought it was yours!”

“Well, you can’t believe everything you hear now can you?  You better get in there and apologize to him!”

Well, the good natured fellow was near apoplectic, but confused and yes, a bit scared, as he was a new guy and he had just ate the supervisor’s lunch, so he gets up and goes in and begins apologizing.  The supervisor can’t keep the charade up for long and the joke is sprung.  We dubbed him the “Hamburgler” after that.

Possibly the best prank I’ve pulled was about 5 years ago and also at the Plant where I work.  I’ve been a computer nerd since my first computer, a Tandy TRS-80 and the folks at the Plant give me their computers to repair.  My company was making a big to-do over brand new Dell computers coming with a tuned version of Microsoft’s Vista, called Vision.  There were all kinds of advance enthusiasm and promises of the latest technology coming to each of us.

One early morning after getting the Plant readings, I stopped in the front offices to fax a copy to necessary parties and behold, a giant new printer was in place.  We went from a fairly simple machine to a glorious shiny plastic behemoth and an idea hit me like a bat to the head.

I did my business and hurried back to my desk.  Surfing the Net, I found an official looking Ricoh document, imported it into Photoshop and made an official document declaring the printer to be “voice activated”.  I even used the company logo and the new Vision graphic.  Hurrying back to the front offices, I placed it on the new shining leviathan and then as an afterthought, I stopped in at the computer lab and made signs advising people at the other printers to try the “new Vision voice activated printer in the front office”.

As is my modus operandi, I soon forgot all about it, being caught up in work.  Some two hours later, my buddy in the safety department calls me and he is laughing so hard, I can hardly understand him.  It seems everyone was having a go at it with no results and this caused them to go to one of the other printers… all, but one fellow.

This determined and savvy geek of geeks spent 15 minutes issuing commands until one of the managers who I used to work for noticed it wasn’t a Ricoh printer, but an HP and declared “this has Bert Marshall written all over it!”

I want to add one caveat to this article on pranks.  Modern MTV-type pranks often include injury.  The best practical jokes do not.  They are funny because you got the person in an awkward moment only.

Baytown Talks Rises From the Dust 1-3-14

Back quite a few years ago in the infancy of the World Wide Web, there existed an online forum hosted by the Baytown Sun, named Baytown Talk or maybe it was Baytown Talks.  It appeared one day and slowly developed a strong following.  The forum was a constant source of aggravation for the last moderator of the Baytown Sun, who I know and like very much.

Amongst other conversations, I remember reading an early thread (discussion) about the Goatman of Evergreen Road and later developed a series of 29 geocaches along Evergreen and Tri-City Beach Road because of it.  The area was supposedly haunted and my series plays this up and is set up for families to take their kids to see if they can spot the dreaded Goatman.

Baytown Talk went through periods where trolls had people ready to fight each other and through the core group of us, we would get it back on track.  I found it a wonderful challenge and regularly learned about the history of our town by asking the right questions and challenging those who found delight in causing trouble.  The forum was rocking back and forth like a ship at sea and by the time Hurricane Katrina blew ashore it was being considered to shut it down.

Robocop - David Alford

Time passed and Baytown, having taken in a lot of the riff-raff from New Orleans began to see an exponential growth of vice and crime, particularly in the Northwood Street area.  I read of it in the Baytown Sun and the police report, but a lot of my information came from police officers who were logged into the Baytown Talk forum and talking to then Captain David Alford.

Around this time someone on the forum dreamed up a contest of sorts to determine who on Baytown Talk was the funniest, the most cordial, etc., etc., and the big poobah of all of them would be voted King of the forum.  Well, believe it or not, I had a reputation for logic, veracity, and an almost clairvoyant propensity for sniffing out trolls (Someone who pretends to be one or more people and are notorious for starting trouble). 

One forum member who I swear to this day is my doppelganger is a woman who cryptically called herself Dagny Taggart.  Whatever she wrote, it was as if I had typed it and according to her, she was equally in agreement with my views.  Faithful readers of the Baytown Sun know her as Natalie Whatley.  Another favorite is Anna Singleton and she has a love of reading and was known as “Books” until I christened her Booksie, due to her innocent and sweet nature.

Chief Byron Jones

Anyway, somehow I was voted King of that forum and that led to me being asked to represent the Baytown Concerned Citizens back when Byron Jones was the police chief and Garry Brumback was just arriving. 

Garry Brumback

Out of this concern came five of us off the forum and by vote, we formed a leadership group to represent the concerned citizens.  

You see where this is going?  The Baytown Talk forum was an important clearing house of information and this was back before the term “Social Networking” was commonplace.

Mike Kercher was one of the original five, as was his wife and he set up a crime awareness website that lasted about eight years, named hotpursuit.com (or.cc) and recently came to an appropriate end at Mike’s discretion.  Tons of information was shared during that 8 years and untold dollars spent by him to keep it running, not to mention the thousands of hours he invested to make it work. I want to speak for all of us and say kudos to Mike and from all of us in Baytown Talk land.  You did good, Mike.

So, about a month has passed and there has been a good number of email messages arrive in my Inbox asking what can be done.  There are now three different Facebook pages set up to try and fill the void, but here’s the problem.  Facebook is a social network site, not a forum.   If you really want to discuss “stuff”, you need what is commonly called in geekland, a phpBB or “PHP Bulletin Board”.

Here’s the second kicker – I know how to do it.  I just didn’t want to and told folks.

Running a public forum can be very taxing for a number of reasons and that is why when I pitched the idea to David Bloom, Managing Editor of our newspaper, his management team declined for a number of reasons.  Baytown really needs a forum though and believe it or not, it truly is a clearing house for information, so I stepped up to the challenge and set one up.

It’s called Baytown Talks Forum and is the third iteration and can be found here:

http://baytownbert.forumchitchat.com/

Unlike other forums of the past, you will be required to create a log-in identity and your email address will have to verified – and then you will have to be manually added.  I say this facetiously, but I wasn’t called the King of the Baytown Talk forum for nothing.

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