Daily Archives: 08/22/2004

22:25 & Still Here

The power went out for about 20 minutes an hour ago. It came back on, and the storm doesn’t seem to have gotten any worse in the last couple hours.

The storm seems to have stalled over Rota. I hope everyone is okay on that island, it is getting pummelled. The last storm track show Chaba slowly pulling away to the northwest.

19:20 & Still Here

Winds are ferocious outside right now. The whole house is rattling with the wind. As much as it sucks here, I am oh so glad I ain’t on Rota right now. Typhoon Chaba is crawling just north of the island. I think Rota’s had eye wall for a couple hours now, judging by the Doppler radar.

One bit of good news. GPA is hopeful they can keep the southern end of Guam energized. I’m thankful for the little things at this point. I’m still cooking up frozen foods with abandon today – odds are they will just go to waste in the coming days.

I sandbagged the front door with bags of potting soil, it seems to cut down on the seepage into the house.

Stormy Weather

Well I take back the negative things I spoke about the meteorologists. It looks like the typhoon is actually turning to the northwest, and the eye will pass between Rota and Tinian this evening. The weather is still a bitch here, with winds probably about 50 mph with gusts to 60-65 mph. The power is still holding up, but I expect it to cut out in about 15 minutes. I have a foolproof guarantee of that.

See, Stalag 17 is showing on AMC right now, and I am cursed to never watch the final 20 minutes of that movie. Something always happens, bad tape at MCV, power outage, faulty DVD, bad videotape. Seriously, this has happened at least six times. And since it is the Christmas party in the barracks, and everybody thinks Sefton is the bad guy, the power is destined to go off any minute now, right about the time he fingers Peter Graves.

National Weather Service Strikes Out Again

Seriously, NWS is worthless. Absolutely worthless. For the last 24 hours any idiot could see the typhoon was heading right for Guam. “Oh no, it’s going to turn to the northwest,” said the meteoridiots at the National Weather Service. Now it’s Sunday afternoon and it is pretty fucking apparent that Typhoon Chaba is right on top of us. No shit Sherlock.

Yet again it is obvious that listening to meteorologists instead of Barbara White is a mistake. Just like Pongsona, when they insisted the storm wasn’t going to hit Guam, right up until the eye wall struck the island.


TO HIM who in the love of Nature holds
Communion with her visible forms, she speaks
A various language; for his gayer hours
She has a voice of gladness, and a smile
And eloquence of beauty, and she glides
Into his darker musings, with a mild
And healing sympathy, that steals away
Their sharpness, ere he is aware. When thoughts
Of the last bitter hour come like a blight
Over thy spirit, and sad images
Of the stern agony, and shroud, and pall,
And breathless darkness, and the narrow house,
Make thee to shudder, and grow sick at heart;-
Go forth under the open sky, and list
To Nature’s teachings, while from all around-
Earth and her waters, and the depths of air-
Comes a still voice-Yet a few days, and thee
The all-beholding sun shall see no more
In all his course; nor yet in the cold ground,
Where thy pale form was laid, with many tears,
Nor in the embrace of ocean, shall exist
Thy image. Earth, that nourished thee, shall claim
Thy growth, to be resolved to earth again,
And, lost each human trace, surrendering up
Thine individual being, shalt thou go
To mix forever with the elements;
To be a brother to the insensible rock,
And to the sluggish clod, which the rude swain
Turns with his share, and treads upon. The oak
Shall send his roots abroad, and pierce thy mould.
Yet not to thine eternal resting-place
Shalt thou retire alone, nor couldst thou wish
Couch more magnificent. Thou shalt lie down
With patriarchs of the infant world,-with kings,
The powerful of the earth,-the wise, the good,
Fair forms, and hoary seers of ages past,
All in one mighty sepulchre. The hills
Rock-ribbed and ancient as the sun; the vales
Stretching in pensive quietness between;
The venerable woods-rivers that move
In majesty, and the complaining brooks
That make the meadows green; and, poured round all,
Old Ocean’s gray and melancholy waste,-
Are but the solemn decorations all
Of the great tomb of man! The golden sun,
The planets, all the infinite host of heaven,
Are shining on the sad abodes of death,
Through the still lapse of ages. All that tread
The globe are but a handful to the tribes
That slumber in its bosom.-Take the wings
Of morning, pierce the Barcan wilderness,
Or lose thyself in the continuous woods
Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound,
Save his own dashings,-yet the dead are there:
And millions in those solitudes, since first
The flight of years began, have laid them down
In their last sleep-the dead reign there alone.
So shalt thou rest; and what if thou withdraw
In silence from the living, and no friend
Take note of thy departure? All that breathe
Will share thy destiny. The gay will laugh
When thou art gone, the solemn brood of care
Plod on, and each one as before will chase
His favorite phantom; yet all these shall leave
Their mirth and their employments, and shall come
And make their bed with thee. As the long train
Of ages glide away, the sons of men,
The youth in life’s green spring, and he who goes
In the full strength of years, matron and maid,
The speechless babe, and the gray-headed man-
Shall one by one be gathered to thy side
By those, who in their turn shall follow them.

So live, that when thy summons comes to join
The innumerable caravan which moves
To that mysterious realm, where each shall take
His chamber in the silent halls of death,
Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night,
Scourged to his dungeon, but, sustained and soothed
By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave
Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch
About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.

William Cullen Bryant. 1794–1878

Monkeys, Bears, You

I should really show more self restraint, but I can’t help myself. These stories are too good to pass up.

  • Monkeys Terrorize City In Sudan – Rampaging monkeys hold sway in the Sudanese city of Kassala. In coordinated attacks lasting from dawn until dusks, swarms of hungry monkeys assault the city, terrorizing women, children and baked goods. The monkeys break into homes, steal food from children, raid the refrigerators and leave a gigantic mess in their wake.
  • Bears breaking and entering homes in Norway Monkeys might be bad, but bears in the house are worse. On the Norwegian island of Svalbard, polar bears are breaking into homes looking for food. And I mean breaking into homes. The bears tear down doors, smash through walls and break open cabinets and refrigerators looking for food.