The Kwik Kar Archives: Debbie Injury Update

Please bear in mind that today's Kwik Kar of Weatherford Blast from the Past happened a decade ago. Debbie has since healed up just fine. Sadly, however, she's never ridden a horse since the accident. Instead, she now rides goats, because you don't fall nearly as far in the case of a spill. The horse was relatively uninjured, and went on to an illustrious career as the CEO of a Fortune 500 company. So, without further ado...

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The Kwik Kar Archives: Irish Wolfhound to the Rescue!

Let's take a peek back in time — a little over a decade, to be exact. Dachshunds no longer rule the earth. It's the Age of Irish Wolfhounds. Read on...

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The Kwik Kar Archives: Miniature Golf!

Right up front, I'd like to briefly address a controversy which this ad touches on. Here, I call miniature golf the "silliest sport." However, I've had other folks swear up and down that curling is the silliest sport; while others are quite sure that egg tossing or gurning fits the bill. Despite my verbiage in the ad, I'm really neutral on what constitutes the silliest sport. But I have to admit that curling is just about the most bizarre competitive endeavor I've ever seen. I say "bizarre" here but what I really mean is that it's the most unusual, exotic, somewhat hypnotic, cryptic, fluid, graceful yet inscrutable sort of thing. What are these people doing? How do you score points? Do you even score points? Well, apparently there are enough folks who will gather and watch curling; just look at the viewer stats on this YouTube clip:

(Screencap)

Watch this clip at: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TpP30ADVTfA

126,935 people viewed this clip! Apparently, curling is Big Stuff in places I don't hang out in much. But, like I said, I do find it strangely hypnotic. Go watch this clip and pay attention to the guys with the 'brooms' (my terminology) who appear to sweep the ice ahead of the 'stone' (their terminology) as it glides down in a stately procession of stone and humans. What are those guy's positions called? What are they doing, exactly? It's most perplexing. I notice that 22 people out of 65 who bothered to express an opinion said they "dislike" this clip of curling. Those must be the Scottish folks. Sorry, Scotland. Better luck next season! Do they even have seasons in curling? Oh, well.

On to this week's Kwik Kar of Weatherford glance back in time, from 2004:

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The Kwik Kar Archives: Flu Season!

Today's Kwik Kar Blast from the Past first saw ink in March, 2005:

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The Call of the Small But Wild

I've noticed that a lot of folks in my area call them 'locusts', but it might be a bit less confusing to call them 'cicadas', which is their other common name.  You might be in a part of the world that doesn't have cicadas, so here's a photo of one:

Don't bother clicking, it doesn't get any bigger.

I'm used to hearing the word 'locust' used in reference to grasshoppers. I think that in the King James Version of the Bible, whenever locusts are discussed, the reference is to a grasshopper species native to the Mediterranean region and/or North Africa.

Anyway, if you've never lived in an area that has cicadas, you don't know what you're missing! Their pulsating, drumming, cycling song is such a familiar part of the sonic environment that to me it just doesn't feel like summer until I begin hearing them. I can understand why some folks might get annoyed with the racket they can throw up, but to me their plaintive attempts at communication are pure music.

Now, in nature no species exists in a vacuum, so to speak. In many parts of the United States, we have other species that feed on these big, juicy insects. One in particular has always struck awe in me, and that is the so-called 'cicada killer wasp' (Sphecius speciosus). These are huge wasps, whose main claim to fame is that they are able to catch, paralyze and haul cicadas in the air back to their nests.

Here's a photo of an Eastern Cicada Killer Wasp in the act of hauling a cicada. This photo was found at Wikipedia.com and is said to be in the public domain, but I'd like to give a public tip of the hat to Mr. Bill Buchanan of the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service for getting what must be a pretty rare look at the wasp at work.

 Photo courtesy Bill Buchanan, U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service. Public domain.

A brief search on the Interwebs indicates that there are two species found here in Texas, the Eastern and Western cicada killer; my local variety are the Eastern. I've been stomping around in the wild — with a camera — for decades, and I've never actually seen a wasp hauling a cicada like this, but I knew that they did this and have always hoped to see it one day. We've got several cicada killers now nesting in a city park just a couple of blocks from my home. I've starting doing morning walks in the park again for exercise, and almost ran into one this morning as she hovered around the dirt mound that marked the entrance to her burrow in the ground. She was not aggressive in the least, although she hovered close for a few seconds, checking me out. According to the Wikipedia article on these wasps, they'll generally not attack humans and will usually only sting if you attempt to handle one roughly or step on it with a bare foot. However, the sheer size of these creatures, and the fear of what that sting must feel like, has always caused a deeply conditioned urge to arise in my mind —the urge to flee at a rapid departure rate! Interestingly, the Wikipedia article relates that one person stung by a cicada killer has stated that the sting was little worse than a "pinprick." Somehow, I'm not completely buying that, but I'll try to remind myself of what this guy said next time a wasp the size of a small hummingbird is hovering next to my face!

So early this afternoon, on my way back home on foot from downtown, I passed by the city park, and just barely beyond the park I happened to glance down at the sidewalk and saw a wasp lying there dead. It was right next to Main Street, and appeared as though it might have been struck by a vehicle, although damage to the creature's exoskeleton was not immediately obvious. I walked past a ways, then turned back to pick it up, thinking "I'll photograph this guy and put in on the blog somewhere." As I approached what I thought was the location of the wasp on the sidewalk, I found that what I was now looking at was a cicada, lying there with no apparent damage whatsoever. Looking around, I soon spotted the wasp I had seen, just a few feet away. An idea formed in my mind about why I was finding these two large insects lying so close to each other and out of commission. I surmised that the wasp was hauling a freshly caught cicada across Main Street, heading back to its burrow with the meal, when hunter and prey were hit by a vehicle. It made perfect sense. I picked the cicada up and examined it closely. There was not the least sign of injury to the insect; it was just lying there. This made sense, because the wasp paralyzes the cicada with a venomous sting but doesn't kill it. The animal appears dead but is actually just immobilized and quite alive. The female wasp (the males are supposedly stingless...I'm not sure I'm buying that one, either) hauls the living but helpless cicada down her burrow, lays her eggs on it, and when the baby wasps hatch — voilà! Instant cicada meal! It's as fresh as fresh gets, and even more convenient than frozen! No microwave needed!

 I cautiously picked up the wasp by one wing. Not much damage to the body, but the other large wing was missing about a third of its length. I believe these insects have two sets of wings; if so, she also had a severely messed up small wing on that side as well. And she was dead as a doornail, poor girl.

Here's her death portrait:

Clicking on this photo won't get you anywhere, either.

She's shown larger than life in the photo, but notice how relatively massive her body proportions are compared to other wasps, like this guy:

 Public domain photo.

She's built for hauling heavy loads, I'd say. And here's a photo of her together with the (probable) cargo:

That's pretty impressive, to be flying with something that I'd estimate weighs three to four times what she does.

No wonder wasps give me nightmares! Images like the following in the media don't help, either:

'Wasp Woman' images are apparently now in the public domain.

"A BEAUTIFUL WOMAN BY DAY —A LUSTING QUEEN WASP BY NIGHT." Sounds like a girl I used to date. For a wasp-creature, she's kind of attractive and looks a lot like Susan Cabot from the neck up. Who's the guy? He doesn't look like he's having a fun date at all.

This image is in the public domain.

The good folks at aircraft engine builder Pratt & Whitney had an ad that ran in a 1952 edition of the Saturday Evening Post which featured this great illustration of a Wasp-Turbine hybrid. Interestingly, P&W had an engine series named 'Wasp' but they weren't jet engines as shown here. Thanks to fellow blogger PhilAreGo! Read his description here.

That's all. I've gotta buzz off to bed.

A Miracle Needed...

What humanity needs is a religion/spiritual practice which teaches you to not be offended, angry or sad when you encounter people who don't believe the same way you do. Wouldn't that be a real miracle?

Inspiration #001

Having Buddhist leanings means that my take on spirituality will probably be a bit different from folks who are Christian or Muslim or Jewish or Hindu or Native American, etc. In fact, I used to think that I was “spiritual but not religious,” as they often said in my support groups. I felt this way for a long time. However, a couple of years ago I went to the trouble to actually look up the word “spiritual” to see what it really denotes. Well, it turns out that the word “spirituality,” logically enough, has its root in the word “spirit;” spirit denotes (according to most of the standard definitions I’ve read) the soul or supernatural spark which drives consciousness and the body. So spirituality is, in its most bedrock definition, concerned with the idea of a supernatural soul or eternal self. Well, as a Buddhist, I feel that I’ve seen the truth of anatta, or “no self,” which means that I don’t perceive of an unchanging, eternal “me” behind my experience and consciousness. No permanent spark (there may be a spark there, but its not permanent); no everlasting spirit. OK, but what about Truth...Beauty? I always felt that spirituality was the intimate friend of Truth and Beauty, that the epiphany which I perceived as part and parcel to the spiritual experience was concerned with the Supremely Aesthetic.

Apparently, I was wrong. Particularly in the Western, theistic religions, spirituality appears to mainly be concerned with man’s identification with a supernatural essence, bestowed upon him by God/Allah/Brahma/the Great Spirit. As nearly as I can tell, anything else beyond that is optional. This may explain why most spiritual literature of the Great Theisms leaves me cold. It seems that this idea of spirituality is mainly concerned with power (the personal identification with the All-Powerful, God) and clinging (to the idea that we must possess this great gift, this thing called the “spirit”); no matter how sincere and heartfelt the motivation. It just seems so trifling, so limited in scope, so unmindful of the real miracle happening right now, under our very noses. This miracle has nothing to do with the supernatural, or our supposed eternal souls, or all that high-blown power worship that passes for religious experience for many people.

I’ve decided to stop using the word spiritual to describe myself. The word is dead to me now; it’s no more meaningful to me than a cheap advertising slogan, now that I understand what it really points to. It’s too shallow and narrow to describe my experiences of profound connection to Just What Is.

Likewise, it’s tough for me to find much inspiration in writings that originated in the English language; very few in the English-speaking world appear to have experienced the same things that I have, nor to have interpreted them in the same way. Now, I know that this can’t be precisely true; reflection on our common experience tells me that at least a percentage of my fellow beings in this culture must be having the same profound “awakenings” I experience from time to time. Maybe this society’s overlay of Judeo-Christian theology and supernaturalism serves to suppress the expression of such culturally-unapproved experiences. However, sometimes I come across something that tells me that I’m not alone.

Here’s two small snippets of writing, from the English-speaking world, culled from my collection of inspirational things:

“What he actually said is that life is blissful, there’s joy everywhere ― only we’re closed off to it. His teachings were actually about opening up the joyful or blissful nature of reality. But the bliss and the joy are in the transitoriness. Do you see this glass? I love this glass...it holds the water admirably. When I tap it, it has a lovely ring; when the sun shines on it, it reflects the light beautifully. But when the wind blows and the glass falls off the shelf and breaks, or if my elbow hits it and it falls to the ground, I say ‘of course!’ But when I know that the glass is already broken, every minute with it is precious.” ―Mark Epstein in the documentary The Buddha (2010)

“I had always heard your entire life flashes in front of your eyes the second before you die. First of all, that one second isn't a second at all, it stretches on forever, like an ocean of time... For me, it was lying on my back at Boy Scout camp, watching falling stars... And yellow leaves, from the maple trees, that lined our street... Or my grandmother’s hands, and the way her skin seemed like paper... And the first time I saw my cousin Tony’s brand new Firebird... And Janie... And Janie... And... Carolyn. I guess I could be pretty pissed off about what happened to me... but it's hard to stay mad, when there's so much beauty in the world. Sometimes I feel like I'm seeing it all at once, and it’s too much, my heart fills up like a balloon that’s about to burst... And then I remember to relax, and stop trying to hold on to it, and then it flows through me like rain and I can’t feel anything but gratitude for every single moment of my stupid little life... You have no idea what I’m talking about, I’m sure. But don't worry... you will someday.” ―Lester Burnham (Kevin Spacey’s character) in the film American Beauty (1999)

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The Kwik Kar Archives: Maverick Turns to Mustang!

Back in 2003, I actually owned the Ford Maverick which appears in the upper left corner of this ad. Forget Mr. Haley's 'Stang, my Maverick was the Beast! Or not. But seriously, I recall being stopped at a light once, and a very young guy next to me rolled down his window and asked if my Maverick was a Ferrari. "Why...yes, YES IT IS a Ferrari! Wanna buy it?"

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The Kwik Kar Archives: Desperado Ducks!

Today's peek back into Kwik Kar of Weatherford history comes to us from March 15, 2005:

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