Corned Beef And Cabbage

My melancholy cloud has lifted.

Well, sort of.

I am loathe to indulge my "down" times.

I did once.

It damn near killed me.

Last night I purchased a couple of corned beef briskets and a head of cabbage. Neither corned beef, nor cabbage, is recognized as a theraputic treatment for depression.


*not two Prozac tablets*

Well, not so far as I know.

Regardless, my funk hadn't lifted by dinner time.

Instead of having the corned beef, I called in a pizza and large meatball/provolone sandwich to the Italian Kitchen and had Christine pick them up.

Pizza, especially Geno's, is comfort food by the slice.

The meatball sandwich was amazing.

I felt much better.

So today, it's corned beef and cabbage.

Unfortunately, just as I was feeling better, I read this article.

Outside of pilots and air traffic controllers, nobody can even fathom the horror of a "near miss" or "mid air collision".

Trust me.

I've walked through those fires of Hell.

It wasn't pretty.

I stopped a "mid air collision" on May 11, 2001 at roughly 9:15 am. The wreckage would have fallen on three casino/hotels in Tunica, Mississippi. There were 157 passengers and crew on the airplanes involved. One was a B-737 flying from DFW to Memphis, the other was a E145 regional jet flying from Memphis to Houston Intercontinental Airport.

The flaming wreckage would have killed (according to an expert's estimate) around 500 to 1,000 people on the ground.

That, by the way, was a conservative estimate.

How did this situation come to pass?

The controller woking the Delta jet gave his plane the wrong altitude.

He sure as Hell didn't mean to.

Dave was, and still is, a very competent air traffic controller.

I was pretty busy with a number of departures climbing out of Memphis International.

As I was scanning my radar screen, I was stunned to see an arrival at the same altitude as one of my departures.

I stood up, keyed my microphone and yelled, "CONTINENTAL EXPRESS TURN RIGHT HEADING THREE SIX ZERO IMMEDIATELY!!!".

For the record, I can yell really, really loud when necessary.

They didn't respond.

However, I observed them making the turn.

I also observed their radar target merge with the Delta aircraft.

At that moment everybody in the radar room thought the aircraft had hit.

I was in the process of trying not to pass out from trauma.

The controller next to me was crying.

Because of the hard turn I issued and the pilot's understanding of the tone of my voice, the planes missed each other.

The Continental pilot cranked the plane hard right in a move that surely stunned the passengers.

It was only then that the Delta crew "saw the Continental jet through the clouds".

The Delta pilots' words, not mine.

The distance?

37/100th's of a mile, same altitude, at 500 nautical miles per hour.

It was a "swish/swish" at 7,000 feet.

I had nightmares for over two years after that.

I had the "pleasure" of reliving that moment almost every night.

Like I said, it damn near killed me.

I blamed myself for not seeing it sooner.

The level of depression was crushing.

Unfortunately that's just part of the job.

Some men and women go through their entire careers with nothing bad ever happening.

Others are witnesses to the most horrifying events you can imagine.

I'm sure the pilots of the two aircraft involved in the Hong Kong incident were shaking in their shoes during and after the event.

I'm sure the air traffic controllers involved were no less shaken.

Air traffic controllers value pilots' and passenger's lives above all else.

I never met one that didn't.

My heart goes out to those involved in the near miss yesterday.

I don't feel as bad as I did yesterday.

In fact, all things considered, I'm in a good place.

My mind is at peace.

Except for the folks involved with the near miss.

I know what they are going through.

If y'all have nothing else to pray for today, pray for the pilots and air traffic controllers involved, peace of mind.

Y'all can't fathom just how much they all need that today.

I, for one, am glad you can't.

Until the next time, all y'all take care of yourselves.

Air Traffic Mike, ret.

"I Have More Than What I Wanted."

22 seconds into the song.

One sentence.

Seven words.

They define, at least, one life.


Thank you.

Air Traffic Mike, ret.

Mungday

"Mung" is a slang term from my college days.

Believe me, it is in no way a complimentary term.

It best describes how I feel this morning.

No, I'm not sick.

I have few pains, all of which I've had for over twenty years.

My wants are small, my needs far fewer.

I could put my "dreaming cap" on and think of all the big things a grown man could ask for.

That would be a waste of time.

There's nothing on any list that would profoundly change my life. Like the line in the song "Wasted On The Way" goes, "I have more than what I wanted."

I think that's the best line of any song ever written.

Still, even feeling that way every day, today it isn't enough.

I feel sad today.

Very sad.

Sad in only the way a boy who doesn't have his mother anymore can understand.

Mom left us back on January 29, 1993. She sure as Hell didn't want to go, but her body gave her no choice. A stroke she suffered the preceding Friday took her voice leaving her nothing but hand signals by the time I arrived that afternoon.

By the grace of God and the determination of Richard "Dick" Childress, I was on the jump seat of a sold out United Airlines Boeing 727 heading to Philly via Chicago.

Let me tell you folks about Dick Childress.

Dick was a growly looking, no nonsense guy. If you wanted to see what "old school" air traffic control looked like, you need go no farther than Dick. His voice could best be described as "nicotine and whiskey" aged. When Dick gave an order, it sounded like it just came from God.

He reminded me of my own father. That was something I shared with Dick one night over a "rough day" beer after work.

That "voice of God" would come in handy the day Mom had her stroke.

Dick took the call from my brother Kevin. Everybody, Dick included, knew my mother was in dire straits. I had been flying home every weekend for two months to spend my weekends with her.

I was working in the radar room.

I heard the phone ring.

A chill ran up my spine.

I couldn't bear to turn around.

Dick got up from the desk and walked over.

I froze.

He put his hand on my shoulder.

He waived to the controller handling the land line coordinations. The signal was to get me off the radar scope.

I stopped breathing.

Richie, the guy handling the land lines, plugged in. I gave him a briefing on the traffic and stood up.

Dick put his arm around me.

"Your brother is on the phone."

It was then I looked at Dick. He had a tear rolling down his cheek.

I took the call at the Supervisor's desk.

Kev gave me the details.

Everything in my world went upside down.

I put the phone back on the hook.

My heart was racing. I had to get home.

Dick looked at me and said, "Hang up your headset ML(my operating initials). I'm taking you off the schedule until you tell us when you'll be back. Go be with your mom."

Biting my upper lip so as to keep myself from crying, I just nodded at him and walked to the break room.

Then I lost it.

I called my wife and told her what had happened. I asked her to pack my bag and include my black suit.

Then I called the various airlines.

Northwest?

Sold out, jump seat occupied.

Delta?

No flight until the next day.

Continental?

No flight until that night with a connection in Newark, NJ.

United?

Sold out, jump seat available.

Dick came in the break room. He asked if there was anything he could do. I told him I'd wanted to get on the jump seat to Philly via Chicago on United.

He said one word.

"Done."

I signed the necessary paperwork. Nothing was filled in. Dick said, "I'll take care of the rest. You go get your stuff.".

Normally, the paperwork process took a couple days. It required my immediate Supervisor's signature, the Air Traffic Manager's signature, and passes issued from a controlled series of forms for security reasons.

I just signed and drove home.

Dick got done three days administrative work in less than one hour.

That was amazing, especially in light of the fact that my Supervisor was on vacation that day.

Dick actually transferred me to one of his Supervisors (I worked under another Area Manager at the time) so the Supervisor on duty could sign my paperwork legally.

I didn't find that out until later in the year.

Dick called me at home. I'd been in the door for all of 30 minutes.

"Paperwork's all in order. Your flight leaves at 1:30 pm. Plane change in Chicago now. I talked to United's ops manager here. You're good to go. See me in the TRACON."

All I could do is choke out a, "Yes sir.".

My ex drove me to the airport. I was a wreck. I had no idea what I would find when I got to Mom's hospital bed.

I walked in the door to the air traffic control tower. Dick was seated at the secretary's desk.

He wanted to see me in person.

I walked in.

Dick stood up and handed me the envelope with the jump seat passes and paperwork.

I shook his hand, tears blurring my vision.

All Dick could choke out was one word.

"Damn.".

The ride to Chicago was bumpy as Hell. The crew couldn't find smooth air anywhere between Flight Level 200 through Flight Level 330(20,000 feet through 33,000 feet MSL). I barely noticed.

When we reached our final cruising altitude, the Captain asked me if I was going to Philly for some play time. I told him what was going on. It turned out that he had just lost his wife to cancer a few months prior.

I felt bad for bringing the subject up after I heard that.

Later in the flight as we approached O'Hare, the Captain called Chicago base ops to notify we were "in range". Ops gave the pilot our gate number and asked if there was anything the crew needed.

I thought it odd the Captain started talking in a hushed tone, but gave it no thought thereafter.

At least until we got to our gate at O'Hare.

I got off the plane, thanking the Captain and crew for having me aboard.

As I walked up the jetway, an electric cart was right there. The sign the driver was holding said, "Mr. Walker, PHL".

I was not expecting that at all.

As we rode to the connecting flight the driver said, "You must be a very important person."

I asked back, "Why?".

He said, "My base ops manager told us that it was imperative, our number one mission, to make sure that a jump seating Mr. Walker from Memphis made the Philly flight on time.".

I made the flight.

Mom was able to communicate via hand squeeze(one for "yes", two for "no") that she wanted me to have a priest come in and give her the Sacrament for the Sick and Dying (the Last Rites).

It will always be the hardest thing I've ever had to do.

Mom's eyes never sparkled more brightly than that afternoon.

She closed them minutes after the priest left.

They never opened again.

A few weeks later, after my ex and I returned from Philly, I stopped to see Dick.

I thanked him for all of his help and told him what happened in Chicago.

Dick got an impish grin on that smoke craggled face.

"ML, I just called in a few favors."

He went above and beyond the call of duty. Not because he had to, but because that's what Dick did.

Beneath that gruff exterior was a caring man with a heart of gold.

Oh......you noticed I'm speaking of him in the past tense?

Sadly, I have to.

Dick died a few years later of an aneurysm.

The same thing that took my father from us a week short of his 59th birthday.

For the record, my father Richard was also known as "Dick".

He'd have liked Dick Childress.

They were cut out of the same tough bolt of fabric.

So what does this rambling story of woe have to do with why I'm so melancholy today?

Because sometimes a boy needs to talk to his parents.

I don't have that anymore.

Mom's birthday is coming up on the 28th.

Today, I really miss her.

If I close my eyes, I can hear her voice.

Just like I can do with Dad.

Or Dick.

Good people make good things happen.

Great people make a difference.

Like Mom.

Like Dad.

Like Dick.

Thank you.

Love,

Mike

Until the next time all y'all take care of yourselves.

Air Traffic Mike, ret.

What's In A Score?

Forty fucking two to zero.

Are you kidding me?

REALLY?

My beloved late mother always told me to "count to ten" when I got angry and then, and ONLY then, respond.

Yesterday the University of Memphis Tigers got their collective asses handed to them on home turf by the Southern Methodist University Mustangs in what should have been a reasonably close football game.

Please pardon the "run on" sentence. I'm fixin' to 'splode.

It's OBVIOUS that some changes need to be made.

This is now officially an open letter to Dr. Shirley Raines.

I, like the rest of the U of M Tiger fans, want some answers.

I/we want them NOW!!!!!!

Dear Dr. Raines,

What in the cornbread Hell is going on with the University's football program?

Have you noticed how bad things are going?

Do you even know there is a football program?

I, like so many residents of Memphis, supported the football Tigers through some lean years. Once upon a time I was a football faithful. My ex and I showed up at every home game we could. More than once we set out on the road to follow the team at away games. We proudly wore our "Tiger Blues" in some very hostile territories.

I can honestly say we did so proudly.

This morning I can honestly say I can never do so again.

I'm done.

God bless all the other sports programs. At least, it seems, you and the University at large, gives a good God damned about them. Except for the men's basketball program, none will ever be able to financially support themselves. Still, I'm glad to see you embrace them, even if only on paper or in hollow words.

The football team could feasibly support itself and other programs.

Unfortunately your administration lacks the ability to make it so.

As far as I'm concerned I think it is by choice.

I can't read your mind Dr. Raines. I'm not sure I even want to. What I DO want is for you to be honest with those of us who have invested spiritually and monetarily in the Tiger football program and tell us the truth.

One simple question, Shirl:

Do you support the football program moving forward, or is it your intention to let it die?

Okay, that's two questions.

They both deserve answers.

As most of my readers/friends know, I spent 25+ years as an FAA Air Traffic Controller. In those two and a half decades, I never worked on a problem. I always worked on solutions.

That concept seems simple to me.

Surprisingly, I've found that many people with "advanced degrees" seem stunned at the concept.

Perhaps you are one of those.

Like an alcoholic, only you can make that determination.

Dr. Raines, I'm offering up some solutions.

SOLUTION ONE: FIRE R. C. Johnson!!! The guy has all the credibility of a used car salesman with all of the requisite sleaze and none of the redeeming qualities. For Christ's sake, he's even phonier than his hair color, and that's tough to do! Secondly, FIRE Larry Porter. He's a swell guy, but so was Tic Price. Okay, so far as we know Larry hasn't fucked a student. However, he has fucked the entire University with his substandard performance as an alleged Division 1 football coach. I'm not sure which is worse.

SOLUTION TWO: SHIT CAN the entire program, FIRE R. C. Johnson, and admit you hate football. Shirl, there is nothing wrong with hating football. There is a LOT wrong with not being honest to either yourself or the fan base. "Mealy mouthed" is not sexy, nor is it appreciated. Tepid statements get no respect no matter what your degree says. If you don't like the football program, get rid of it and cite the savings to the Board of Regents, the Alumni, and the shrinking fan base.

SOLUTION THREE: HIRE A REAL FOOTBALL COACH and FIRE R. C. Johnson!!!!! Get off some of the "soft donations", solicit some more, and get a REAL FUCKING COACH!!! What's wrong with you people? Are you THAT FUCKING STUPID????? There are over 100 good to great college coaches available (note: Check Div 1aa), yet you grab a guy who has NEVER been a head coach anywhere. That would be like hiring a college President whose area of expertise was in "Early Education".

Shirl, maybe you should be teaching the football coaching staff.

SOLUTION FOUR: FIRE R. C. Johnson!!!!!!!! Shoot his dyed hair having, no talent ass from a black powder cannon and make it a pay per view event. At least that way he will raise money for the programs in a "value" manner.

SOLUTION FIVE: QUIT!!! Go away. "Fire" yourself and admit you were a failure. For F*ck's sake you've been there TEN years and things have only gotten worse. Get over yourself. The University is worse off than when you got there. Coach "Cal" gathered a lot of cash for improvements. You didn't. R.C. didn't. The beloved family of Kemmons Wilson(whose son Bob I hold in the highest regard) built the hotel on campus. You had NOTHING to do with any of that. It occurred in spite of you, not because of you.

Maybe the problem is YOU Dr. Raines.

Folks, the football program is in a shambles.

Coach Porter is in over his head.

The only team we have beaten is a Div. 1aa school, and that's not cool.

As most of you know, I'm retired.

I have 24 hours a day as free time.

I, like the rest of the "Tiger" fans, want answers.

Dr. Raines, R.C., Coach Porter, I'm coming back to Memphis in a month or so.

I've got the time and the drive, to make all of you answer to the Tiger fan base.

You MIGHT want to start before I get home.

Capiche?

Until the next time, all y'all take care of yourselves.

Air Traffic Mike, ret.

GO TIGERS, G........um.....Nevermind.

With 7:00 minutes left in the second half the score is:

SMU: 28

UofM: 0

Probability of tomorrow's blog being an apeshit rant: 100%

Air Traffic Mike, disgusted

Ya Schmooze, Ya Lose

I think that's how that saying goes.

It doesn't matter. I'm not the sort of person that ever felt the need to "work" a room.

Sure, I understand that there is a need for networking in many fields. I've just never been one to graze in those fields.

Last night I went with Christine to the local business association's "Meet and Greet". She is a founder of the group. She saw a need for better communications between various segments of the local businesses. There are some other "buzz words" or "talking points" I could incorporate into this posting, but I think you folks know what I'm talking about.

Since the event was being held at a local riverside restaurant, I made sure I had my camera on hand. I've posted plenty of pictures taken from in front of the restaurant here on the blog.

While Christine was getting her things organized for the gathering, I stepped outside to take some pictures:


The remnants of the old Pennsville-New Castle ferry piers.


Looking north, across the grounds of the restaurant.

That ominous looking factory in the background was once a smoke belching electric generating station. I remember when I was a child there would be huge piles of coal on the south and east side of the plant. If the winds were right, I could see the smoke all the way back at my folks house some five miles away.

In later years, cleaner technology prevailed. The amount of smoke was radically reduced.

Then, on one trip, there was no more smoke. There were still cars in the parking lot. There were still wires running in and out of the main plant. There just wasn't any hint of smoke.

The factory had changed hands. Gone was the coal stockpile and the coal burning boilers. Any power generated there by the new owners would be fueled by natural gas.

According to the new owner's information, the plant only generates electricity for the grid when it is needed at peak usage times.

It seems pretty quiet over there now, compared to when I was a child.

I milled about smartly outside for a few more minutes. I noticed some of Christine's group had shown up. I went over to see if she needed anything. It helps to have someone standing by in these sorts of gatherings.

She had all under control, so I drifted back to the far side of the room and had a "Moscow Mule".

It wasn't too long before I saw a business owner I've known for a long time. He and his family run a couple of local delis. They have the best food, hands down, of any of the local delis and pizza parlors. Here's a link to Geno DeMarco's Italian Kitchen and Roman Pantry stores.

It was good to spend a few moments chatting with Geno and his wife. I don't count that as schmoozing. The only thing I need from Geno and his family is for both stores to stay open. I'm pretty particular about where I get my cheese steaks and hoagies from.

A little later on, while checking on Christine again, I struck up a conversation with a younger fellow who works at a local bank. Nice enough guy. His father drew up my parent's will, and subsequently, my late mother's will. His older sister went to school with my late brother Gary. I felt comfortable enough to chat about some of the local issues.

There are those that would say, "ATM, you don't have a dog in that fight.". I might be inclined to agree up to a point. The fact is that many of these local issues directly affect my immediate family and friends. They also affect Christine in personal, public, and professional ways.

In those matters I am vested.

The local Republican Party was hosting the New Jersey State Republican Lt. Governor in the same restaurant. They were in the banquet hall on the north end of the building.

That explained all the seagulls at that end of the building.

Not that I have any grudges against most Republicans. Most of the them are pretty close to the middle of the road like I am. However, losing the White House sent some of the farthest right in the party on a temper tantrum. A flailing economy sent some closer to the middle chasing after them.

The "Tea Party Tantrum" is currently in full swing.

If the consequences weren't so high, it would make great political theater.

With the business association at one end of the building, and the local Republicans at the other end of the building, it was only natural that those up for election would stroll down the hall.

There's one fellow up for election that I can't really say anything nice about.

So I'll save that for later, closer to election time.

However, one of the fellows is running for re-election. I've followed his stint in office since he first started. He was always a good kid and that hasn't changed in the man. I went over to shake his hand, congratulate him on a good first term, and wish him well in his next term.

I can say that because I don't think there's anyone running who will even come close to beating him.

I also gave him a piece of friendly advice after the other Republican candidate stepped out of the room.

"Dale, be careful of who you hang your hat with."

My guts tell me that if the other guy gets elected as well, there's going to be trouble all around. Especially within the Party.

That's the last thing the citizens of this township and this county need.

By this time I had already said more than I had planned.

Things were going smoothly so I stepped outside to get a quick picture of sunset.

I really didn't have time to fool with the filters too much, so I just shot off a few pics and prayed for the best.


I think I did okay.

We left shortly thereafter and came home.

We had an extra dog for the night so we wanted to make sure things were going well.

The dog in question?


"Smudge the Pit Bull".

We always feel safer when she's around.

She stayed the night, giving "Billy" and "Butter"(who we were already dog sitting) some quality entertainment.

Well, at least until she peed on the floor.


Damned pit bulls.

This morning it's just me and "Boney Billy".


"The Boney One" on a sunnier day.

He's napping, it's raining sideways, and I'm ready for a shower.

Until the next time, all y'all take care of yourselves.

Air Traffic Mike, ret.

Stuffed Animals

One of my friends said this ad somehow reminded him of me.

I've always lived by the disclaimer, "There's a lot of good reasons I didn't go in to marketing/advertising.".

This busted me up the first time I saw it.

It still busts me up.


Especially the "pheasant on a stick".

Air Traffic Mike, ret.

The Debate Over Airshow/Air Races Safety

This debate is nothing new.

It has been going on since the Wright Brothers' days on the dunes of the Outer Banks.

I'm pretty sure everybody knows what happened last weekend in Reno, Nevada and Martinsburg, West Virginia. Just in case some of you missed what happened, here are two videos:

The P-51 accident in Reno.


The T-28 accident in Martinsburg.

Both crashes share some similarities and differences.

The North American P-51 Mustang was built during World War Two to serve as a long range fighter escort aircraft. It was built for speed, maneuverability, and durability. The later models had a top speed of around 440 miles per hour.

It arguably marks the high point of propeller driven fighter aircraft.

Many of these planes went on after the war to be converted into racing aircraft.


The "Galloping Ghost" was participating in a low level closed circuit race with about six or seven other high performance race planes on the same course.

The North American T-28 Trojan began production just around the start of the Korean War. It was designed as a training aircraft. The top speed of the "C" model is listed as 346 miles per hour.


A T-28 in training mode.

The T-28 was a part of a six aircraft flight demonstration team. Flight demonstration teams perform aerobatics and choreographed maneuvers during their portion of the airshow. They are not racing in any stretch of the imagination.

Two different airplanes, made by the same manufacturer. One, a fighter. The other, a trainer. One racing. One performing a flight demonstration.

Yet the accidents themselves seem eerily similar. Both aircraft rolled and nosed over into the ground.

It is too early to declare an actual cause of the accident in either case.

We do know that a trim tab separated from the P-51's elevator. Was that enough damage to create an asymmetrical flight condition, compromising its stability, and bring the P-51 down?

It is a possibility. There was a great deal of video taken up close as the plane crashed. There was operation telemetry available to the ground crew, and it was recorded. There is also the possibility that the National Transportation Safety Board can retrieve moving images from a forward mounted camera on the aircraft. Unfortunately, the aircraft practically disintegrated on impact due to the high speed, hard surface, and angle of impact.

That is a lot of information investigators don't usually get from an accident on this sort of aircraft.

In the case of the T-28 the investigators have footage taken from a distance. They also have the charred wreckage from what was a shallower angle of impact. The shallower angle of impact may work in the NTSB's favor. While it is still a catastrophic crash, there should be larger sections of wreckage. If a cable or pulley failed during flight it may be possible to ascertain that.

One thing about accidents.....they get immediate reactions.

I also knew there was going to be an overreaction somewhere.

Two terrible crashes, with multiple fatalities. It would only be a matter of time.

That time was yesterday afternoon.

I read a poll asking, "Should air races/airshows be banned for the sake of safety?".

My answer? "No.".

Both are very popular sporting events. I've been to countless airshows since I was a child. I've seen the best side of aviation and aeronautics at them. Me, and hundreds of thousands of other children just like me, have been influenced and inspired by them. I've met famous people, American heroes, stood next to then state of the art aircraft, and touched legendary planes from long ago.

Go to an airshow sometime and watch the Navy's Blue Angels, the Air Force's Thunderbirds, or the Army's Golden Knights. You'll leave the show full of wonderment and wishing you had the opportunity to do that.

For the record, all three of the military demonstration teams have had accidents over the years. Yet, they always come back and do so with an improved margin of safety.

Aviation is just like everything else in the world.

It has an unsafe component that we can only mitigate at best.

Just like...


...when you're at work.....


...or driving down the Interstate.....


...spending a relaxing day with your friends at the beach...


...or attempting to set a new high dive record.


Sometimes, it's not even your fault.

Bad things happen to good people every day.

Jimmy Leeward didn't set out that day to kill anybody or himself.

Neither did Jack Mangan.

So, here's a little perspective for those want to overreact to the accidents this weekend past.

Every safety feature on your car, truck, and/or SUV is there because someone died.

Period.

The folks in Reno will learn from this weekend's tragedy, the Trojan Horsemen Aerobatic Formation Flight Demonstration Team will learn from theirs, and they will press on.

Until the next time, all y'all take care of yourselves.

Air Traffic Mike, ret.

The University of Memphis 2011 Football Team Motto

"This is where football comes to die.".

Congratulations to Coach Porter and the team.

I'm sure it was a thrilling 27-6 win over the Division 1-AA Austin Peay Governors.

Take some time to savor that win.

It'll probably be the only one this season.

Fire R.C. Johnson now.

He's done enough damage.

Where's Waldo?

Or should I ask, "Where's Tubbo?".

It seems my portly friend in Trenton is taking great offense at what he perceives as an attempt to invade his privacy.

New Jersey State Senator Loretta Weinberg plans to introduce a bill on Monday requiring the Governor to notify the Legislature every time he leaves the state.

Granted, that sounds pretty harsh. However, unlike being a regular working stiff, being the Governor of any state in the Union is a 24 hour a day job.

Just like being the President.

The job comes with responsibilities that the populace elected the man/woman to take care of.

Besides, the Grubernor promised "transparency" in New Jersey government throughout his campaign.

Apparently "transparency" was meant for others, not himself.

Why is the good Senator proposing this legislation?

It seems "Bim the Governor Man" has been sort of surreptitiously skulking out of the state to attend non-Governor related events.

Recently he met with billionaire and uberconservative David Koch. David Koch and his brother Charles are major contributors to a number of "conservative think tanks".

The Heritage Foundaton?

Koch brothers funded.

The Cato Institute?

Koch brothers funded.

Can you say, "Tea Party"?

The Koch brothers can.

They just pronounce it, "Americans For Prosperity" or "FreedomWorks".

The Koch brothers like to stay out of the limelight. To do so, they let their money do their talking.

Let's face it, when money is talking, politicians are more than happy to listen.

So it was no surprise to find out that Governor Transparent snuck out of the state to listen to what the Koch brothers money had to say. With a couple of bankrolls like theirs he could be picking out curtains for the Lincoln Room today.

What was surprising was when someone busted him for attending a "closed door" meeting with the Koch brothers and friends in Colorado. He was recorded as saying basically he saved Democratic House Speaker Sheila Oliver's job as part of a deal to cut public workers benefits.

I'm sure any other time our transparent friend would deny he even said such a thing.

Unfortunately, facts are stubborn things. Especially when the facts are backed up with an audio tape recording.

The good Governor has made few friends at the State House, even amongst his own Party.

There have been a lot of grumblings, off the record of course, by Republican members that they don't appreciate the arm twisting they receive when the Governor wants them to tow his line.

I think that's why he's acting angry over the prospect of this bill. He knows he's pissed off just enough Republican Assembly members and Senator for this bill to pass. I think too, that he's afraid that if he dares veto it, the Legislative Branch will override it in a power play.

A major embarrassment is the last thing Christie's fragile ego can stand.

I say, "Go for it.".

His reaction will tell the world if he's a Statesman ready to assume leadership of the United States, or if he's a bag of festering hot air, curling up like a whipped cur, at the Koch brothers feet.

Well, in the interest of fairness, let's hear what the man has to say. Click on the video here.

Wow. He's really not happy. Wait until it hits his desk.

Governor Christie, you are the elected leader of the citizens of New Jersey. Nothing more. You are not a national leader in any capacity. If you can't put the citizens and the state of New Jersey first, please hand over the keys to your office.

Then you can feel free to seek out a higher office on your own time, not the citizens' dime.

This rant is over.

At least for today.

Until the next time, all y'all take care of yourselves.

Air Traffic Mike, ret.

Screw The Rain, It's Time To Cook

That was last night's battle cry.

Yesterday, the weather was cloudy, warm, and humid at 1:00 pm.

By 3:30 pm it was blustery and cool.

By 5:30 pm it was downright miserable.

Such is life when planning to grill outside in the late Summer. Actually, I was not disappointed to see the heat leave. The heat doesn't agree with Christine and after the hottest Summer on record, I'm over it.

Still, the windy conditions made heating up the grill a slow process. For a moment I considered throwing a stick of Crisco on it to start a small blaze under the grates.

Never discount the "arson option" when trying to get a grill heated up.

However, I was not in a real hurry. Instead of igniting the innards of the grill, I covered the side air vents with some aluminum foil.

In the event of a gas grill explosion, I'm quite positive that this technique will void both the gas grill's warranty and your homeowners insurance simultaneously.

The grill finally heated up to a respectable 450F.

I went inside and removed last night's "Guest of Honor" from the refrigerator.


A nice seasoned and marinated flank steak.

When I went to the butcher's shop a couple of days ago, they had eight really nice flank steaks laying out in the case. Any one of them would have done a food magazine cover proud.

After careful consideration lasting two seconds, I asked the woman behind the counter for the biggest one.

Like a wise man once said, "Anything worth doing is worth overdoing.".

Speaking of "overdoing", that is precisely the reason why I left the flank steak in the refrigerator until the last minute. I wanted it to come out medium rare. It is a fairly thin piece of beef. By keeping it cold like that, I've found that it allows for a larger margin of error. Especially on a blustery night where the gas grill is having difficulty maintaining a steady temperature.

I kept a close eye on it. Fortunately my instincts were right.


It came out perfect.

It needed to rest for a bit. Christine passed the time with a nice cool glass of Pinot Grigio. I passed the time with a celebratory vodka and bitter lemon.

I also took that time to make one of my favorite side dishes.


Oven roasted herbed potatoes.

I could eat these every night.

I have been known to actually make these as a snack.

They come out crispy, peppery, and with a big herb flavor. When done right, they are not in the least bit greasy.

"New" red, white, or "Yukon Gold" potatoes work the best. You can use regular potatoes, but "New" potatoes have a creamy sweetness that really highlights the herbs and olive oil.

Today, the weather cleared. Christine and I got an early start to the day. We did some volunteer work at a golf tournament. The group raises money to provide grants to teachers for special projects not funded by the local school board. It's headed up by a retired teacher who had the misfortune to have me as one of his students in high school.

I figured a payback was in order.

I have to tell you, I really enjoyed myself. It was great to see some old friends. It was a perfect day to be outside. Best of all, we had our own golf cart to tool around in.

If you haven't tooled around in a golf cart, you don't know what you're missing.

Tonight's going to be a quiet night in.

Tomorrow, I leave the cooking pictures behind and delve back in to politics.

I feel a rant coming on.

Until the next time, all y'all take care of yourselves.

Air Traffic Mike, ret.

Seafood

Usually I try to come with a catchy title for the individual blog posts.

Today, not so much.

Yesterday we were looking forward to going out for a late lunch at Harry's Seafood Grill.

As promised, we went.

People that know me well know that I'm a pretty tough critic when it comes to dining out. I've lost count of how many restaurants/diners/greasy spoons/bistros, etc. I've eaten in. I praise good service and good food generously. I suffer poor service and substandard food poorly.

Harry's Seafood Grill, I'm happy to report, ranks up there with my all time favorites.

We arrived there shortly after 1:00 pm. The lunch crowd was on their way out. I've been to a number of places where this is a weak point in the service. There's a natural let down after the big rush is over. I've been in places where the staff and management allows this to seep into the operation. Not at Harry's. We were promptly greeted and seated. Our booth had a nice view out the windows facing the Christiana River.

We were in no hurry to order. Everything on the menu looked great. Our waitress came over and took our drink order. That gave us time to decide on our appetizer courses. Harry's has amazingly fresh seafood daily. They have limited selections of sushi and sashimi, all of which are of the best quality.


I opted for an order of the Big Eye Tuna sashimi. This was a real treat. It had a wonderfully delicate flavor and a silky texture. It practically melted in my mouth. It paired well with the glass of Pinot Grigio I ordered.


Christine opted for her favorite, the Ahi Tuna sushi. I've had this here before. Had it not been for the Big Eye Tuna being on the menu, I would have opted for this. It is a superior version of the dish. The sprinkling of roe on top gives it a very nice little boost.

We didn't order our entrees until our server brought out our appetizers. At this point in the day, some servers can get a little pushy seeing as how their shift is nearly over. Not ours. She was prompt on everything, but very laid back at the same time.

I have a lot of respect for people who excel at their job. It was a pleasure sitting at her table.

There were a number of compelling choices for lunch. I was having a hard time deciding between the Lobster Roll and the Thai Crab Salad. I've had the Lobster Roll there before. For those unfamiliar, a Lobster Roll is a New England tradition. Lobster meat mixed with onions, celery, and mayo served on a toasted and buttered hot dog bun. It's a simple, yet amazing culinary treat. Christine was torn between having a Baby Spinach Salad or the Crab Cake sandwich. Any one of those choices would have been fine.


As it turned out Christine ordered the Baby Spinach Salad with a Crab Cake at our server's recommendation. The salad came with dried cherries, spicy pecans, and blue cheese. The Crab Cake paired very well with it.


I selected the Thai Crab Salad. I'm very glad I did. It was just what I was looking for. It was light, had a lot of great flavors working for it, and had a generous portion of jumbo lump backfin crab meat. The brown flakes you see are slivers of candied ginger. They were not overly sweet and retained just enough of the ginger heat to set off the lime/soy vinaigrette.

Yesterday's lunch was the most relaxing one hour and fifteen minutes of the week.

For my friends here in the Delaware Valley, or those passing through, I highly recommend Harry's Seafood Grill.

Until the next time, all y'all take care of yourselves.

Air Traffic Mike, ret.

Wednesday FunDay

After weeks of bleary weekend weather, family obligations, and multiple illnesses, we finally have a day of nice weather, no social obligations, and relatively good health.

I'm beginning to understand what my parents meant by, "It's the small things in life that will make you happy.".

Yesterday I went foraging around the county for some good groceries. The produce stand was full of fresh late Summer produce except for lima beans. The lima bean crop took a major hit from Hurricane Irene a couple weeks ago. The heavy rains and high winds knocked a lot of the blossoms off the plants, compromising this year's harvest severely.

That sort of bummed me out.

However, one draft beer at a local tavern and a stop by the butcher's shop made up for it.

Taverns are some of my favorite places in the world.

As you can guess, it was pretty quiet there at 2:45 pm. There were a grand total of four customers, myself included.

Hey, I wasn't looking for a party or anything. I just wanted a cold beer and some quiet time. The conversation was about the Phillies and how good of a season they were having.

One of the guys was wishing they'd hit more home runs while he was at the tavern.

I really didn't understand what he meant by that until I went into the bathroom and saw this:


That's the second best drink offer I've ever seen in conjunction with a Phillies game.

One time I was at a Phillies game where the night's promotion was "A Foamer For A Homer". For every home run a Phillies player hit, adults 21 years of age and older got a free beer. Mike Schmidt and Greg Luzinski got things started by hitting back to back home runs in the second inning. Not to be outdone, the starting pitcher Larry Christensen clubbed one over the right field fence in the fourth inning.

Maybe we can get the Memphis Redbirds to have that sort of promotion next season.

I finished my beer and headed up the road to the butcher shop.

I really like the butcher shop. They have a really nice selection of all things meat. They also have really good service. I needed a whole fryer cut up for last night's dinner. They were more than happy to do so. While that was being done, I purchased a nice four rib pork roast, a really nice flank steak, and a pound and a half of apple wood smoked bacon.

That bacon might be the best bacon in the world.

Oh, and the cut up chicken?


I seasoned it up in herbs, olive oil, and paprika and baked it.

Baked chicken, rice, and asparagus is a big plate full of "happy" no matter where you are.

Now today is going to be a sort of "FunDay" for us.

Christine is working from home.

It's a beautiful sunny day.

We're both starting to feel good again.

I made a "command decision" upon stepping out front this morning.

We're going to Harry's Seafood Grill for a late lunch.

It is a good day for patio dining. We're going to take advantage of it.

The weatherman is calling for rain this Sunday.

"Wednesday FunDay" it is.

I hope your Wednesday is a "FunDay" too.

Until the next time, all y'all take care of yourselves.

Air Traffic Mike, ret.

It's A Bird. It's A Plane.

It's a"FUMOT"!!

Now the Downtown Memphis Gang knows EXACTLY what I'm talking about when I use the term, "FUMOT".

For those unfamiliar with the term, it is an acronym for F*$%ed Up Mode Of Transportation.

If this thing isn't a "FUMOT", I sure hope NASA launches it into a deep space orbit soon. It really hurts my eyes to look at.

In that spirit, here's a Public Service Announcement from the gang over at Air Traffic Mike Heavy Industries, LLC. (the official social think tank of Air Traffic Mike).

Friends, you yourself may be driving a "FUMOT" and not even realize it.

Here are some (but not all) helpful guidelines you can use to see if you are driving a "FUMOT":

- your car's original factory paint job has been replaced by a paint job from an aerosol can.

- none of your tires match by manufacturer, size, wear, year of manufacture, or place of purchase.

- burglars break in and leave you some spare change and a casserole.

- you have a replacement fender or hood from a sister brand.

- you are riding on two or more "space saver" spare tires.

- law enforcement doesn't write you a safety related citation, they politely ask for "Next of kin".

- your vehicle has one or more parts that the guy at the junkyard gave you just to get your wretched vehicle out of his sight.

In other news, Christine's daughters stepped up to the plate once again and have rescued another dog.

The last one, y'all will recall was the late, great.........


Rhondo the Wonder Idiot.

We miss that little dog.

He was one of a kind.

What that kind was, we're still trying to figure out.

Regardless, he was an affable and gentle little soul who was born with a broken set of kidneys.

RIP Rhondo.

I won't get into the details on the new dog, other than to say that she was found starving on the hard streets of Philadelphia. Christine's youngest daughter and her roommate volunteered to be a foster home for the dog. Christine's oldest daughter took one look at it and had to have her.

The paperwork process is under way.

Yesterday, they brought the dog down for us to see.

Folks, she's one scary looking beast.

No wonder nobody wanted to pick her up. This dog is one MEAN looking customer.

I wondered if she wasn't going to shred the furniture and take a limb home as a souvenir.

In spite of my concerns, I really trust the girls' judgement when it comes to rescuing dogs.

After all, the youngest drove all the way to Georgia to bring Rhondo to safety.

Before that, she kept after her mother until Christine agreed to allow her to rescue "Butter" the Dachshund, a Hurricane Katrina orphan.


Butter and Rhondo in happier days.

Like I said, Lauren has a pretty good track record when it comes to dogs.

Still, this one scares me just a tad.

I think she has some pit bull in her.

Seriously.

If I were selling drugs on the mean streets of Philly, needed some defense, and some "street cred", I'd be all over this dog like Kosher salt on a soft pretzel.

Folks, it's my pleasure to present........


"Smudge" the Pit Bull.

Terrifying, isn't she?

Actually, her real name is "Millie". She's a whopping six pounds of now formerly neglected terrier mix.

Like our own "Billy", she was left to fend for herself on the streets. Yesterday I picked her up and held her for a bit. I could feel her bones through her skin just like "Billy" when we first met him.

Why anyone would do something like that to a dog is beyond my comprehension.

The good news is that those days are behind her.

The better news is that I think I just found my new foil to replace Rhondo. I think her alter ego "Smudge" the Pit Bull will fit in nicely with my writing style, just as Rhondo did.

I just hope she has better luck than he had.

I hope we all do.


Especially the guy who owns/drives this "FUMOT".

Until the next time, all y'all take care of yourselves.

Air Traffic Mike, ret.

Four False Starts Later.....

heeeeeee's baaaaaaaaaack!

Glad to be here, too.

It's been a rough couple of weeks over here in Air Traffic Mike World.

I've been sick twice over the last four weeks. Christine has also been sick twice over the last four weeks. Conveniently, she's been sick on my "healthy" weeks.

Like my late Pop would say when frustrated, "Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!!!".

Just keeping all of our temporary meds straight had become a part time job.

Antibiotics for me.

Antibiotics for her.

Percocet and prescription Motrin for me.

Oh, and let's not forget our doctor visits both in the office and in the Emergency Room.

Hell, I haven't had an adult beverage since last Friday night.

Honestly, I haven't even wanted one. That's how bad I've felt.

Overall I really don't feel too much better except for the strained chest muscle from last week's cardiac scare.

I won't even get into Christine's latest malady other than to say it is a minor annoyance to her.

Everything taken as a whole, it all seems to be working out. We're both firmly on the top side of the dirt.

For now.

This morning I was reading the news online.

I have quite an extensive news reading list. I read the local paper, the Memphis Commercial Appeal, the Philadelphia Inquirer, ESPN, CNN, MSNBC, and Fox News (in that order).

Yeah, I just said, "Fox News".

Yes, the same "Fox News" I often rail against.

Why do I read it?

If I didn't read it, I couldn't rail against it.

If I railed against a news site without reading it, that would qualify me for membership in the Tea Party.

I'll be talking politics a little later in the week, so that's all I'll say about the "Tee P'ers" for now.

Right now, I'd like to talk a bit about "Foreign Policy". Sure, it fringes on politics, but I'm looking at the larger issue of National Security.

This morning's news is dominated about the tenth anniversary of the "9/11" attacks and the threat of a new attack tomorrow.

Here's all we as a country need to do to stop this sort of nonsense.

Intelligence indicates that the current Al Qaeda threat is stemming from jihadists from or supported by a cell in Yemen.

Our current policies have us working with the Yemen government to filter out these individuals and eliminate the threat.

That process, while civil, has its flaws.

I point to the USS Cole bombing in October, 2000.

So then, how do we get these countries harboring terrorists to take seriously our safety concerns?

I say shift the "safety concerns" onto them.

Our new policy should be that if a Yemeni terrorist(or Yemeni sponsored terrorist) commits a terrorist act against the people of the United States, the United States will launch enough nuclear war heads to obliterate Yemen.

Period.

Should any other terrorist organizations from any other third world country like to step up and take up the "Jihadist" banner from there, we'll make the response the same.

I'm pretty sure our stockpile of nuclear warheads exceeds the stockpile of third world terrorist producing countries.

You may be asking, "Air Traffic Mike, what do we do in the event that some United States citizen decide to take sides with the jihad against his/her own country?"

Easy.

Gather them all up. Pick out a clunker from the Suisin Bay Reserve Fleet. Refurbish it just enough to get them far out in the South Pacific. Arm it with a small atomic device, and send them up/down to their "Promised Land".

Make sure to film it, too.

Any small group can conspire to, and in some cases pull off, murdering another group of people.

Let's up the ante.

They kill 1,000 Americans, we wipe their country completely off the map.

Their planning takes years and thousands of hours of training.

We push three buttons and wait forty five minutes for the results.

Seems like a reasonable trade off.

Then again, it might just be the medicine "talking" this morning.

Until the next time, all y'all take care of yourselves.

Air Traffic Mike, ret.

Aspirin Or Emergency Room....Decisions, Decisions

"Irony. It's like goldy or bronzy except it's made of iron."

- Author Unknown

* * * * * * * * * *

I was sitting here at my lap top early this afternoon.

I was sorting through a list of topics for today's blog.

Some days I've already decided what the topic will be, other days not so much.

Heck, it was shaping up to be a laid back Saturday. I figured an afternoon blog would give me the time to evaluate my options.

It might have, too.

Except for the fact that I coughed on or about 12:40 pm.

This one didn't feel right immediately. I felt something *pop* in my upper left chest.

Oh, and it hurt as soon as it happened.

For the first time since 14 when I came down with pneumonia, it hurt to breathe.

I thought to myself, "Well, maybe the pain will ease in a little bit.

Thirty minutes went by. It still hurt the same.

I figured maybe a hot shower would help. It got worse as I tried to lift my arm.

The pain was in the immediate vicinity of my heart.

I read somewhere sometime that doctors have noted the positive effects of a low dose of aspirin on victims suffering a heart attack.

Figuring there was no way I was get behind the wheel of a car, and since Christine wasn't home, I took an aspirin and stayed calm.

It was obvious I had a medical decision to make. I took my father's side of the family and noted the various heart problems. It wasn't any prettier on my mother's side of the family either. I factored in my own mildly high cholesterol and blood pressure.

Christine got home. I told her what was going on. In one last act of "denial" I told her that if it didn't improve in 15 minutes, we'd have to go to the emergency room.

I can't say as to how I arrived at 15 minutes.

Regardless, in the next 15 minutes I didn't feel any better.

We hopped in the car and drove to the hospital.

The same one my oldest brother works in.

Fortunately it was his day off and he was down at the shore. I was glad one of us was having a good day.

The kind young lady at the desk where folks sign in wasn't busy.

She called me right over and asked what was the problem.

That's when I learned that the phrase, "I'm having chest pains with some dizziness." is the magic line to pass an entire emergency room waiting list.

I signed exactly one piece of paper authorizing them to treat me and I was on my way to triage.

They took my blood pressure and it came in at a nice 177/105.

That pretty much explained the dizziness.

Next it was time for an EKG. I'm no stranger to EKG's seeing as how they were required every so often for my Class Two Airman's Medical Certificate.

I knew if there was something was seriously wrong, that would be the first test to reveal it.

The technician handling the test took results to a doctor immediately.

I was curious as to the results but they wanted to get me into an examination room.

One wheelchair ride later I was taken to a room where they put more electrodes on my chest. My combined electrode count was now up to twelve.

Now I was really starting to worry. A nurse came in and explained what they were going to do. "We're going to have someone come down and take some blood for tests. The doctor will be in shortly after that. He will have the EKG result and some of the blood test results. Then we're going to have an orderly take you down the hall for some x-rays to see if you have a collapsed lung."

It never occurred to me that a collapsed lung might be the problem.

He asked if I had any questions. I had none. I admired the efficient manner of the operation and the clear manner in which the nurse communicated.

He left.

That's when I mentally drew a comparison to my situation and Scrooge's Christmas Eve.

One by one the test results came back.

The doctor went through the results.

The EKG?

Everything was in order.

Blood tests?

Good to go.

The x-rays?

He brought them up of the flat screen computer right there in the room with us.

No sign of any problems.

Diagnosis?

Strained muscle, conveniently in the location that would give a person a reason to believe he/she was having a heart attack.

He also pointed out that we took the right course of action in spite of the results.

He prescribed some Percoset and Motrin for the pain.

It took four hours and some change, but I sure am glad I went.

I wasn't expecting a visit to the Emergency Room today when I got out of bed.

Then again, who does?

I had mentally readied myself that I was probably going under the knife today.

I'm thankful for decent health insurance, an excellent hospital nearby, someone to drive me to the ER, and the outcome of the day's events.

Until the next time, all y'all take care of yourselves.

Air Traffic Mike, ret.