Eight Feet Deep

Okay, I know that where there is smoke there is fire. I learned that one long ago. The trouble is when there is smoke and you don’t know where the fire is located.

Smoke has enveloped my portion of the Upper Texas Coast this morning. It looks as if God had exhaled a Lucky Strike factory. It’s got an organic smell to it, so at least one of the chemical plants is not on fire.

I could probably make some calls to find out where this smoke is coming from but it would not serve much of a purpose other than to satisfy my own curiosity. And, of course, it would arm me with knowledge when I walk down the street and somebody says: “It sure is smoky.” Then I could say: “Yeah, _ _ _ _ is on fire.”

Now I have my theories about where this smoke has originated and I have narrowed it down to several sources. a)The coastal marshes south of here are on fire. b)The coastal marshes in Louisiana to the southeast are on fire. c)Smoke is wafting up from Central America. d)The smoke is coming from Mexico. e)The smoke is coming from a KISS concert.

I just know that it is smoky out. But even though the state environmental agency says the air is unhealthy because of high PM2.5 levels, it wasn’t too bad walking in it this morning. The heat and humidity at 7 a.m. was probably pushing the heat index up close to 90, and that’s not too spiffy. But at least I wasn’t choking from the smoke. So maybe it’s going to be a good day after all.

A friend and I went to the opening reception this afternoon for the exhibit “Robert Rauschenberg, Artist-Citizen: Posters for a Better World” at the Museum of the Gulf Coast in Port Arthur, Texas. The collection of posters created by the artist is on loan from the Smithsonian for a 10-week exhibition in the museum, which is located in Bob Rauschenberg’s hometown.

Mary Lynn Kotz, Rauschenberg’s biographer, gave a very detailed (kind of long-winded) talk and slide presentation on the life and works of the painter, sculptor and graphic artist, now 80 years old. It was a rather interesting discussion nonetheless about someone who has been able for many years to take the most common of objects and turn them into compelling art.

The posters included a number that he made for various events and causes ranging from the first Earth Day to posters for NASA.

I guess what has always attracted me to Rauschenberg’s work is the sense of whimsy in so many of his collages, or combines as he calls them. I did notice early on that he used a lot of chickens in his work. What I did not know until listening to Kotz was that chickens were part of his childhood in Port Arthur and he often uses objects of significance in his life as a recurring theme in his work.

It also is interesting to think about such a heavy-hitter in the art world as Rauschenberg, as well as the legendary blues-rock goddess Janis Joplin, both hailing from Port Arthur. I may be wrong but I feel Rauschenberg, while he got the hell out of Dodge while the getting was good, does not seem bitter about his youth spent in Port Arthur as Janis Joplin did. Then again, Janis had some various issues. We all do. I still loved her and will never forget her returning as a big star to Port Arthur for her high school reunion. I remember seeing her on the local TV news in her finest Pearl duds. Man, did she shake some cobwebs loose in that part of the area when she returned home. Janis’ psychedelic convertable is also at the musuem.

Looking at the work of a legendary artist and thinking about the work of another (Janis) is not a bad way to spend a Sunday afternoon.

I like the TV show “NCIS,” which is both drama and partially comedic about the Navy Criminal Investigative Service. NCIS is the detective agency for Navy and Marine Corps crimes. How much the show represents today’s NCIS, I don’t know. From what I’ve read, from real NCIS investigators, not much but they find the show entertaining.

My experiences with what was then called “NIS,” the Naval Investigative Service when I served in the Navy 30 years ago, was limited. But the civilian detectives I had dealings with in NIS were not the most brilliant Crayons in the box. I voluntarily met with NIS agents once after my barracks roommate decided to rob a pizza delivery guy one night with a knife. The guy had told me prior to it happening that he thought he was going to “rip some people off.” What can you say to someone like that? Especially to a 23-year-old alcoholic who talked to a rock? I didn’t know what to make of this dude, whether he was serious or not. The guy and a buddy ended up robbing a pizza delivery guy on the base of $50 and a pepperoni pizza. They were caught trying to go out the front gate of the base.

I ended up talking to NIS because I had told my division officer of my roommate’s revelations. The two detectives I talked to were just like Joe Friday and his partner on the old “Dragnet” TV series. Both were obviously old men, stone-faced and where in the hell they had come from before being NIS detectives in Mississippi, God only knows. But I will never forget one of the questions one of the NIS agents asked me. It was:

“Did you see the subject eat pizza?”

Well, no I didn’t sir. I saw the subject drink beer at 0700, just after he got up to get ready for work. But I never saw him eat pizza.

Somehow, I don’t think those are the kind of questions Mark Harmon would ask. My roommate ended up getting 7 years hard time, by the way.

Until I figure something different out, I now have set up an entirely different blog to post some of the comments I receive sometime after they are e-mailed to me. Hit the link under “EFD Readers Write.” I will try to post comments from those who write, just as long as if you aren’t trying to sell me something or if you aren’t way too snarky.

Well, the cable guy has yet to come but things seem to be working better on my link to the world of cyber. Maybe my Internet is acting like when you go to the doctor when you are ill sometimes. You know, you are sick as a dog until you go to the doctor, then you are just fine.

I have thought long and hard about this but recent comments from spammers including several today, especially one that hijacked me for about a minute until I could click everything off, have finally led me to my breaking point. I like having the give and take of comments well enough. But I will be damned if I will let comments on my blog be a forum for free advertising through the back door.

That is why I have decided to disable comments on EFD. I have set up a new e-mail address that sits just above the saline soldier where you may send your comments. I will also pick my way through this thing to figure out how I can post some of the comments I receive from e-mail. I’ll see how that works for awhile and if I get lonely for the old give-and-take of open comments, I might switch back. You never know what’s going to happen here.

Thanks for checking in,
The Proprietor