The Scheming Daughters Of The World's Worst Tyrants

Fairly lurid stuff:

The consequences of crossing [Gulnora] Karimova became clear in 2001 when she divorced her husband, an Afghan-American businessman with extensive holdings in Uzbekistan, and took their children out of the United States in violation of a court order. The unfortunate ex-husband’s Coca-Cola bottling factory in Uzbekistan was promptly shut down, three of his relatives were imprisoned, and 24 were deported at gunpoint to Afghanistan. In 2006, Karimova, whose business interests include most of Uzbekistan’s tea industry, reportedly sent hooded men with machine guns to shut down a rival company and liquidate their holdings.

In recent years, Karimova has been focusing on her budding music career. A music video she recorded under the name GooGooSha, her father’s pet name for her, was in near-constant rotation on Uzbek MTV in 2006.

You Just Can't Make Up This Stuff

No sir, no novelist would dream this stuff up:

First, Birther Queen Bee Orly Taitz released a purported Kenyan birth certificate for Barack Obama. Then reporters discovered that the Obama 'birth certificate' was actually a forgery based on the birth certificate of an Australian man, David Bomford, who was unfortunate enough to have uploaded his own birth certificate onto a family genealogy website during the summer of 2009 America birther mania.

Now Taitz is accusing him of having forged his own actual birth certificate in order to discredit the phony Obama birth certificate that was in turn based on his real birth certificate.

Hospice Humor

As the dread moment approaches, the funnier.... Here is an E-Mail exchange with my sister Marra (starting with Marra):

Hi Marc,

Thank you for the pictures that you took. I was wondering if Michelle is keeping you informed of what is happening with Dad or not. If she is not then I would send you information. Let me know.

I called Michelle I think on Tuesday morning to let her know I arrived safely, and she told me Dad had had a bad night, with an aching back. But since then, I’ve heard nothing. How is Dad doing? How are you doing?

Dad is getting weaker. He fell/stumbled on Tuesday night against the kitchen counter and later we found out the stove. When Michelle went over on Wed morning the place was filled with gas. She opened up the doors and windows and cleared the gas out. Dad did not seem to have any affects from the gas, no headaches. Then last night he fell again and hit his head against the recliner. Did not seem to injure himself but scared both of us. Took me 4 tries to get him on his feet. I don't want him to know that it did injure my back. Will try to get an adjustment tomorrow. I will have to walk him every place in the evenings because he just tips over since he is so tired at that time. Hospice was going to check him out today and see if there are any injuries.

Oh, that doesn’t sound good at all. I was actually pleased when I was there how few problems he had had with falling.

.....

Don’t worry, we won’t ask Hospice to check your back out too.

(Sorry, bad joke....)

bad joke but it did make me laugh.

Chaco Canyon, And The Problem Of Water

Here is an excellent blog post that explores the question of water use during ancient times at Chaco Canyon. The author makes the important point that the cultural flowering there was achieved under today's adverse water conditions - a real triumph of ancient civilization!:

Looking at the remains of the great houses in the canyon today, it’s hardly a surprise that many of the most common questions visitors ask are about water. Where did they get it? How did they store it? Was it wetter then than it is now?

The answer to the last question is no, which comes as a considerable surprise to many visitors. Some of them even seem very skeptical, like I’m trying to trick them. It defies common sense to think that anything like what we see at Chaco could have arisen in an environment as dry as what we see today. And, indeed, many early archaeologists who worked on Chaco assumed that the climate must have been more favorable, and there has been a considerable amount of research into this topic over the past few decades, much of it using the precision available through tree-ring studies to great effect.

Rather surprisingly, what that research has shown is that the climate has not changed significantly in at least the past several thousand years. There were variations in the amount of precipitation on the order of decades, but always within the range seen in modern records.

Time To Get Your Papers In Order

You can never have too many official-looking documents proving your identity!

The one and only, genuine Republic of Kenya Birth Certificate Generator.

Problems In The Tubes

Sounds like I'm not the only one with problems in the tubes:

Denial-of-Service (Dos) attacks have been launched today against Twitter, Facebook and LiveJournal. Twitter and LiveJournal were taken completely offline and Facebook service has been degraded.

Somebody needs to call a cyber plumber to come out and fix the tubes.

The Wise Latina Triumphs

Didn't even slow her down.

Transporting Jagged Heavy Objects In Tiny Fragile Spaces

What was that E. was saying?:

MMMMMAAAARRRCCCCC! There is water under the back porch! I looked everywhere for a leak, but there's nothing

Sigh. This happens every six months to a year, or so. The house's sewage line dates from around 1940, with a 60-year expected lifetime. There is a break in the house's sewage line not far from the house and roots from nearby trees periodically block the line. Water backs up and flows from an open pipe into a concrete basin under the back porch. It is impossible to wash clothes or take showers without creating a health menace as collateral damage.

Prior to 1940, the house's water closet was located where the back porch is located now. The old toilet pipe is still there, and open for back-up flows. It's spooky to watch munched up toilet paper, spider webs, and other black, unidentifiable debris, come bubbling up like an oil strike from that pipe!

Until I spring for a new sewage line, the interim solution is to use a 75-foot snake (the approximate length of the pipe) to get rid of the roots and restore flow. I bought a snake with a 1/4" cable several years ago, but I kinked it last year. Apparently it was not heavy enough for the job. So, it was time to check out the rental equipment at the rental equipment place and get the 75 foot 1/2" snake for the night. Sometimes Joe The Plumber helps out with this, but after the big loss in Vegas I didn't want to pay this time. Self Reliance is the New Black.

The only trouble, of course, is that the motorized snake, with its sharp, wicked root-gouging blade-encased tip, is very heavy. Plus, I didn't have a pick up truck, and I was working all by myself. Well, I've done all this before, and I can do all this again.

I showed up at the rental equipment place at 4:25 p.m. and the rough and ready guys there gave me that expression - you know, like a fish, with a big oval for a mouth - when some eccentric customer rolls in and proposes the impossible just 5 minutes before closing time. "Can't you get a pickup truck? The snake won't fit in a compact sedan! It's too heavy for you! You need some some help! You'll destroy your upholstery! You know, it'll make your car stink!" "Listen," I said, "I've done all this before! The 3rd door on the Saturn SC-2 coupe gives you options! There is a blanket on the back seat to protect the upholstery. Just give me a little help!" So, three of us muscled the savage, heavy object into the car's back seat. "It's not secure! It's not secure!" whined one of the Nervous Nelly Muscle Men. In response, he used a seat belt to help keep the plumbing equivalent of a black hole from rolling if I ever tapped on the brakes on the way home.

I was a bit exasperated with these guys. I mean, I've done this before! Trust me on this!

Rolling home, I tapped on the brakes, and I heard what sounded like a ninja star hit the side of the car: "TTTHHHHWWWAAAACCCKKKK!". Apparently the seat belt wrapped around the motorized snake destabilized the snake and made it sit up abruptly as I braked. As the snake stood up, the sharp, wicked root-gouging blade-encased tip rotated at high speed and punched into plastic interior wall of the car, making a small hole. Wow! Cool! Still, it made me impatient. Nervous Nellie Muscle Men! Secure my ass! Look, I've done this before! It's not as hard as it looks!

At home, I wrestled the monster from the car, tried to avoid dropping it on my foot, and rolled it into the basement. After the DMTC Board Meeting, at about midnight, I went to work plumbing the depths of my sewage pipe. Despite two plunges, the sharp, wicked root-gouging blade-encased tip never ripped into roots. I'm not sure what caused the clog, but a load of laundry demonstrated that flow was finally reestablished.

In the morning, it was a real challenge to wrestle the dense, gravity-warping motorized snake back into the car, but by using an Igloo cooler to help stair-step it upwards, I managed to get it into the back seat. Of course, the sharp, wicked root-gouging blade-encased tip dinged up a little bit the weather-stripping on the 3rd door as I dragged the motorized snake into the back seat. Plus, I hyperextended my knee a little bit. But that's the price of Self Reliance.

Returning the snake to the rental equipment place, the Rough and Ready Muscle Men gave me that familiar oval-mouthed fish-faced expression when they saw me roll up. They helped me unload the monstrous tool and finalized the rental transaction.

As I started to drive away, one of the workman flagged me down. He pointed to my front license plate frame and asked what the slogan emblazoned on the license plate frame meant. Let's see, the slogan reads "So, Far From God; So Close To Kylie!". I explained that I was a fan of the pop singer Kylie Minogue. He said he knew who she was, she is very pretty, and that she's been singing for years. But did the slogan mean I didn't believe in God?

No, I explained, the slogan meant that I would be very happy if Kylie was my girl. He smiled and agreed with that sentiment.

Trouble In Dinosaurland

As always, it's that dadgum gummintosaurus:

A federal judge has cleared the way for the government's seizure of a creationism theme park in Pensacola owned by a couple convicted of tax fraud.

A ruling by U.S. District Judge Casey Rodgers states that the nine properties that make up Dinosaur Adventure Land as well as two bank accounts associated with the park will be used to satisfy $430,400 owed to the federal government.
Kent Hovind, who founded the park and a ministry, Creation Science Evangelism, is serving 10 years in federal prison for failing to pay the Internal Revenue Service more than $470,000 in employee taxes.

He was found guilty in November 2006 on 58 counts, including failure to pay employee taxes and making threats against investigators.

The conviction culminated 17 years of Hovind sparring with the IRS. Saying he was employed by God and his ministers were not subject to payroll taxes, he claimed no income or property.

Hovind is incarcerated at the Edgefield Federal Correction Institution in South Carolina.

His wife, Jo, also was sentenced to a year in federal prison for her role in the tax fraud. She's currently jailed at the Federal Correctional Institution in Marianna.
Rodgers' 16-page order released late Thursday gives the government the green light to divide up the nine properties in and around the 5800 block of North Palafox Street and begin to sell them until the $430,400 forfeiture amount is satisfied.
The properties have a combined value of more than what the Hovinds owe, according to Rodgers' order, and any excess property available after the sales will be returned to the Hovinds.

The Hovinds' son, Eric, and business associate Glenn Stoll unsuccessfully tried to block the government's attempt to seize the properties. They said they are the legal owners.

Only Eric Hovind, who has managed the park since his father's incarceration, was successful in his claim, according to Rodgers' order.

Stoll said he owned nine of the 10 properties in question, according to a motion filed with the court. Eric Hovind claimed ownership of a single property, where he lives with his family. He will be allowed to keep the Cummings Road home.

Kent Hovind made a series of quick transfers to conceal his ownership of the properties at risk for seizure, according to documents filed by the U.S. Attorney's Office.

Soul To Bare - Joi Cardwell

Sleeper Train

"Sleeper Train": New, in my Deborah McMillion-Nering collection.

RIP, Mrs. Lovett

Surprisingly quick onset of congestive heart failure.

Right now, she is gamboling on green, green meadows with Scruffy, and Peaches, and Sparky too.

Many condolences to Steve and Jan.

Tonopah McDonalds Update

Passing back through Tonopah, and against my better judgment, I checked the status of the McDonalds there (the disastrous first report is here).

Well, the air conditioning was working again. The toilet, while dirty was functional.

Nevertheless, the windows were still smudged. The mop bucket was sidelined by the waste paper bin, indicating that someone had at least thought about cleanliness (although there was no sign that anyone had actually mopped).

The restaurant was filled mostly with Asian folks who had stepped off a tourist bus parked outside. Even though it looked like these folks had been served already, there was still an interminable wait: the only fellow detailed with handing food to the customers at the counter seemed slow and incompetent.

The crisis du jour was the absence of one dollar bills in the till. The reason? I heard the manager say that "no one told me" about the absence of cash.

I ordered a hot fudge sundae and was told the ice cream machine wasn't working (even though I had just seen an employee leave the restaurant with a hot fudge sundae and head off walking towards town). The fellow collecting money at the counter was pleased my order came out to exactly $5.00, since that meant I didn't require any one dollar bills in change.

Leaving town, heading off towards Hawthorne, I wondered whether incompetent employees or uninspired management were to blame for the situation there. Perhaps it was a toxic combination of both, feeding off each others fecklessness.

Thrashed In Vegas

Left: I stayed at the plush Desert Rose Resort, just off the Strip (behind Hooters). There were quite a few families staying here too - a more family-friendly alternative to the big Vegas Hotel casino/resorts.

Left: A dead mouse just outside the Excalibur. Sort of emblematic of my $1,051.00 loss at Luxor's blackjack tables.

Left: Mandalay Bay, and Luxor.

Left: Luxor's big beam!

Below: The Tropicana Hotel.



Left: New York, New York.

The Ghost Of Sam Kinison (II)

Several years ago, I blogged about looking for the exact spot on Highway 95, near the NV-CA state line, where the comedian Sam Kinison died after a head-on collision with a drunk driver in 1992. My search was confounded because there is no monument - not even a roadside cross - to mark the spot.

Belatedly, I discovered a Web Site where the spot was described as being exactly four miles north of Interstate 40, where the state police marked the accident site, as they usually do with accidents, with white paint sprayed on the pavement to mark the locations of the cars. That gave me something to look for. But would the paint still be on the roadway 17 years later?

Exactly four miles north of Interstate 40, sure enough, there were white marks on the pavement. But was this the right spot? The marks looked less like spray paint and more like thick white goop that had fallen out of the back of a truck. I looked around for telltale car debris, but aside from a shredded tire at the road's edge, and some other unrelated junk, there were no certain relics to rely upon.

Well, probably close enough......

Desert Miscellany

Left: Thank you for your cooperation in keeping Luning safe and happy!

(since the towns of Luning and Mina are on the primary route for trucks to bring ordnance to the army base at Hawthorne, these warning signs do serve an important purpose).

Left: Fun with spray paint at Coaldale Junction, NV.

Left: Too cute! (at Goldfield, NV).

Left: Roadside ruin at Vidal, CA (very much like a modern ghost town).

New Tires In Needles

Even before I started my trip, I had noticed a vibration in the front end of my car. The tires looked pretty ragged too. I did what I usually do under these circumstances: I slipped into denial, decided to ignore the situation, and took off down the road.

The vibration worsened considerably during the trip. Still, onward I rolled through the hot deserts of the Southwest.

Trying to pull away from the pumps after filling up at the Needles Shell service station, I was suddenly confronted by a sweaty mechanic animatedly gesticulating at my right front tire. What could possibly be wrong? Well, sure, maybe the tire was falling apart. So what has that to do with me?

Reluctantly, I decided to listen to the mechanic's advice: costly but sound advice. I sprung for four new tires.

And the vibration disappeared.

The next morning, on Las Vegas TV, the lead story was about a fellow who drove off the freeway and rolled his car after a blowout. There but for the grace of God go I!

Desert Vistas

Beautiful sky and mesa, just east of Red Hill, NM, late afternoon, January 8, 2006.



Left: The same mesa, midday, August 2, 2009. There is less grass in this picture, suggesting that those cows have been out and about in the summer warmth.

Left: On the road, heading to Mesa, AZ, from Payson.

Before Highway 87 (the Bumble Bee Highway) rises over the Mazatzal Mtns. from the Tonto Basin, it goes over a spur of the mountain range. In the early 80's (about 1981), when the road was narrower, I got into trouble right here, on the descent of this spur. I tried to pass a semi-truck trailer in my 1970 VW Bug just as the road began its steep descent. The semi wouldn't let me complete passing as we both accelerated downhill, and so I traveled a mile praying that there wasn't any oncoming traffic.

Semis scare me....

Left: The Big Maria Mtns., just north of Blythe, CA.

Even in the desert, all mountains sport vegetation, but the mountains in the Lower Colorado River Valley have so little vegetation that they begin to approximate the ideal of perfect lunar barrenness.

Left: The Big Maria Mtns., Lower Colorado River Valley, CA.

Left: A dust devil lazily spins away the afternoon, hardly travelling at all, but staying essentially in one place, at Dry Lake, in the Eldorado Valley, just south of Boulder City, NV.

Left: A hillside of Joshua Trees, just north of Lida Junction, NV, on the south-facing slopes of the Goldfield Hills.

The northernmost extent of Joshua Trees along Highway 95 lies between the north-facing slopes of the Goldfield Hills and the south-facing slopes of the San Antonio Mountains, where Tonopah is located.

I find it mysterious that the Joshua Tree demarcation lies between these two ranges of hills. There is no reason I can divine why Joshua Trees, the signature species of the Lower Mojave desert, couldn't spread farther north. Maybe it's a dynamic boundary, and perhaps the only reason Joshua Trees haven't spread farther north is that they just haven't had time to do so yet.

Left: Brock Mountain, San Antonio Mountains, just SW of Tonopah, NV.

Left: The wave-cut benches left behind by the high-water mark of now-vanished, ice-age Lake Lahontan are particularly noticeable in the Wassuck Range just northwest of Walker Lake, NV. The wave-cut bench here is the pale horizontal feature just below the picture's middle.

Here, gullies from the hills drape steep alluvial fans over the wave-cut bench. Apparently, sediment-bearing water from the gullies abruptly ran into the calm water of the ancient lake and swiftly dropped its sediment. Now that the lake has vanished, the gully water is now digging into and eroding away the alluvial fans they laid down in a wetter era.

Left: Wilson Canyon, West Fork of the Walker River, Singatse Range, near Smith, NV.

This is a very pleasant place. The big mystery is why a canyon like this is here in the first place. It's rare that a river chooses to cut right through a mountain range. Perhaps the river predates the mountains and the land is rising swiftly as the river tries to maintain its status quo.

High Noon At Blythe

Left: The Colorado River at the I-10 bridge.

Misreading The Danger

Stayed overnight at my customary Phoenix motor hotel destination (Holiday Inn Express, I-10 & Chandler).

Preparing to take a shower this morning, I decided to put the rubber bath mat outside the tub, since the bathroom floor seemed so slippery.

Mistake. Once wet, the tub's bottom was infinitely more slippery than the bathroom floor. I fell, and smacked my cheekbone against the soapdish. I sensibly finished my shower sitting down.

Ow. May as well look at the bright side. A bit of rouge has always suited me well.....

Time to leave Phoenix, and head for Vegas! No dangers there, no sir!