Author: Dick

I am using the library computers which might all of a sudden go bye-bye so I will make this brief. I am very near a part-time job which should give me the perfect hours to continue freelancing and perhaps, even survive. The only problem is a lack of adequate shelter, meaning none really. Were it not for my meeting a person from my new job tomorrow, I would be on the way to the beach for more solitude. Oh well. Stay tuned for my big homeless adventure.

Wow. I just learned I won 850,000 Euros in the National Lottery of Burkina Faso. I must apologize by saying, I normally pride myself on my geographic knowledge but I’m not certain where Burkina Faso is located.

Okay. So according to Wikipedia, Burkina Faso is in Western Africa and was the country once known as Prince, ah, I mean Upper Volta. I was always intrigued with the name Upper Volta and its twin nation Re Volta. Hah, hah, hah. I am much too busy and yet too lazy to read the entire Wikipedia article or anything else about Burkina Faso-Upper Volta right now, so I guess I’ll have to wonder for awhile as to whether Lower Volta ever existed. I could envision the Voltas in battery terms with Upper Volta being 12 voltas and Lower Volta at 9 voltas. However many amps might have been involved will perhaps remain an even bigger mystery.

The e-mail I received here at EFD from OUAGADOUGOU BURKINA FASO indicated that because a mix-up occurred, I have been asked to:

” … keep your winning information confidential until your claim has been processed and your money remitted to you. This is part of our security protocols to avoid double claiming and unwarranted abuse of this program by some participants.”

In the words of that great mind, Jessica Simpson: “I totally don’t know what that means.”

Apparently EFD was selected among more than 30,000,000 e-mails to receive this substantial amount of money. Perhaps when I receive the sum I will give it back to the nation of Burkina Faso and will forever be known as “That Crazy Man Who Gave Back The Money.” I could just see my great-great-great grandchildren some day visiting Ouagadougou and coming across a statue of me, the great hero of Upper Volta-Burkina Faso-Brangelina. The country will honor me with a week-long celebration in which people give money to each other for gifts and then have to give it all back. Yes, money can’t buy you love, but it can buy you something to eat and drink.

Peace, love and Coco Puffs to my loyal subjects in Burkina Faso. May your days be days and may your feet always smell not-so-bad.

A little solitude is good for what ails you. Thus, I sought the solitude of the beach last night. It was the first time I had been to the beach in some time, so I wasn’t about to let the cold, wind and rain keep me away.

As I expected and had hoped, the cold, wind and rain kept others away instead. McFaddin Beach is about 10 miles west of Sabine Pass, Texas, down an interrupted State Hwy. 87.

The road once was a straight shot from Port Arthur and points North to the Bolivar Ferry which goes to Galveston. Erosion from several hurricanes closed the highway between McFaddin Beach and High Island. I suppose if one had an all-terrain vehicle, the trip could be made between those two points. I don’t know that is a fact, however.

Those well-meaning souls who want Jefferson County to prosper and grow desire that Hwy. 87 be rebuilt where it is now shut off. It would be a closer, thus quicker, route to Galveston from Beaumont and Port Arthur. But it is exactly the desolation created by the closed highway that attracts me so to McFaddin Beach.

Holidays are about the only time when any substantial numbers of people are out there. And when it is 40 degrees with wind and rain as it was last evening, the numbers decline significantly. During the time I spent there — about 16 hours — I saw only one person. He was a Texas Parks and Wildlife warden who was making a pass up the beach. I stopped and asked him a couple of questions and let him know I was camping, not that I had to do so.

Also, I spotted exactly two other vehicles down there during the night. One car sat at the entrance to the beach for quite awhile then took off. It was great listening to the waves and gentle rain lapping the top of my pickup — and nothing else. Yes, I was too lazy to pitch a tent. And, I slept just fine although my neck aches a bit today.

The solitude didn’t cure all of my problems, but it did put them out of sight and out of mind for a little while. I wish I could patent solitude, I’d have more money than Trump, Gates and Buffett (Warren AND Jimmy) all put together.

“I smell a rat,” said the Weasel.

The Bush Boys finally reversed course on their secret, warrantless wiretapping practices as an equally secret court will oversee the program.

Of course, the White House denies that this about face had anything to do with the testimony today of Attorney General Al “The Weasel” Gonzales before the now-Democratic-led Senate Judiciary Committee.

While the reversal may (or just as well may not) be good news for those who like the little nicities of the U.S. Constitution, bear in mind these traits of weasels as outlined by The Free Dictionary:

“Weasels are very active and chiefly terrestrial but are able to climb trees. They prey on small animals by night, often more than they eat, and spend the day in dens made in holes in the ground, rock piles, or hollow stumps. Although they are notorious for destruction of poultry, the damage they do is far outweighed by their value as destroyers of rodents.”

So folks should watch out at night for our friend the AG, not to mention looking up for him in the trees or in holes and stumps. By all means, keep your hens away from this destroyer of chickens and be sure to harbor any pet squirrels or other pet rats which you might fancy. Oh, and also keep your copy of the Constitution away from the likes of the Weasel lest he decides to feast upon it again rather than poultry or rodents.

No, the picture is not of conditions here in Beaumont, on the upper Texas Gulf Coast. I don’t even know where this picture was taken. All I know is somewhere in Texas sometime by someone and it was a National Weather Service photo.

I have been in Southeast Texas since Friday. The temp was in the 70s all weekend. Conditions have plunged downhill since. Luckily, I’ve not encountered any icy roads although the wind, humid air and freezing temperature sort of takes your breath away. I feel fortunate to have missed the really treacherous conditions but I suppose I should not count my chickens, the reason being is that I have no chickens. Or no eggs for that matter.

At any rate, I have work to do so au Revlon.