Gone hunting

Think you'll catch me? Ha!

I’m off to Maine, well east of Millinocket, on the Canadian border, to hunt and shoot illegal alien deer with my son John and my friend, Allen Lovejoy. Odds are in the deers’ favor, so weep no tears – it’s just a chance to reestablish some important relationships, really. If there is Internet access, I will blog, but I’m hopeful we’ll be out of touch – now that there’s 3G service at Mount Everest though, I despair at hiding out in our modern world. Still, Maine is pretty resistant to change, so there’s hope. Stay tuned, and if there is nothing happening here this week, know that I’ll be back a week from Monday. Until then, keep your powder dry.

Geeze, this sounds like basketball

Michigan beats Illinois, 67-65 in triple overtime. That’s actually a football score.

Ken Walker – why is this man still alive?

While prowling the Internet in preparation for next week’s deer hunt in Maine with my son John, I came across a website for Ken Walker, a registered Maine Guide. To achieve the status of a Maine Guide requires an accumulation of some petty remarkable skills, and when I was a young kid, going down the Allagash River with Ken, I was awed by his personality, and wanted to be just like him when I grew up.

But I learned only a year ago from someone I know very, very well, (no, not Gideon, you lascivious gossip mongers – we brought a number of kids from Riverside after the first trip went so well)  that Ken liked to pork young boys in the comfort of his camp. The incident I now know of occurred in 1967, so we’re beyond the statute of limitations, but Ken Walker, far fatter than the man he was then, is still posing as a Maine Guide and offering “family trips”.  I would not recommend that you hire him. And yes, this is an open invitation for Walker to sue me. Go for it, fat boy.

It is to weep

Story of Martin Greenberg, tailor, who survived Auschwitz and came here to America to achieve success. The idiot Germans killed or chased off their most talented citizens, from atomic scientists to tailors. We are the beneficiaries of that insanity, and maybe we should reflect on that while considering our immigration laws.