I don’t know how we missed this Timothy Egan book in 2006 when it was first published, but after starting it last night, we’re hooked. The Worst Hard Time is the epic story of the dust storms that terrorized America’s High Plains in the darkest years of the Depression and the families who stayed and survived the choking dust of our nation’s greatest natural disaster, the “dirty thirties”. From the Introduction:

On those days when the wind stops blowing across the face of the southern plains, the land falls into a silence that scares people in the way that a big house can haunt after the lights go out and no one else is there. It scares them because the land is too much, too empty, claustrophobic in its immensity. It scares them because they feel lost, with nothing to cling to, disoriented. Not a tree, anywhere. Not a slice of shade. Not a river dancing away, life in its blood. Not a bump of high ground to break the horizon, give some perspective, spell the monotone of flatness. It scares them because they wonder what is next. It scared Coronado, looking for cities of gold in 1541. It scared the Anglo traders who cut a trail from Independence to Santa Fe, after they dared let go of the lifeline of the Cimarron River in hopes of shaving a few days off a seven-week trek. It even scared some of the Comanche as they chased bison over the grass. It scared the Germans from Russia and the Scots-Irish from Alabama — the Last Chancers, exiled twice over, looking to build a hovel from overturned sod, even if that dirt house was crawling with centipedes and snakes, and leaked mud on the children when thunderheads broke.

It still scares people driving cars named Expedition and Outlander. It scares them because of the forced intimacy with a place that gives nothing back to a stranger…

History, delivered as though in a novel you don’t want to put down. I find myself stopping to re-read paragraphs, to draw in a melodic phrase or colorful description, marveling at the perfect choice of words and hoping to remember how they were woven, all the while discovering how little I really knew about this part of our history and the very real people who lived it.

I don’t usually recommend a book before finishing it, but this may well be the exception.

Thanks James!

I’m a little late posting it, but here’s another political video mashup from Hugh Atkin…

As Hugh points out, it’s a bit of a “return to the well” after this one…

I saw a billboard yesterday that read:

Out of curiosity, I did.

A Mexican showed up with a tow truck.

I have a hard time understanding the success of MySpace. I know, it’s for “social networking”, I get it. But the personal sites I’ve visited are clunky, crowded, confusing conglomerations that have left me exhausted and wondering why MySpace doesn’t clean up its interface.

Someone once told me MySpace was originally designed for musicians to distribute samples of their music and book gigs. And the music window works great, although it would be a more pleasant experience without the surrounding clutter.

Anyway, kids soon discovered MySpace and the rest is history. Unfortunately, freaks and pervs discovered it too. If you have kids, especially tweens and teens, MySpace is not a safe place for them to hang out.

I found this on DZSokol’s blog and was surprised that, despite dueling comparisons between Sarah Palin’s experience and that of Barack Obama, this simple yet glaring truth had escaped me.

You couldn’t get a job at McDonald’s and become District Manager after 143 days of experience.

You couldn’t become chief of surgery [at a hospital] after 143 days of experience.

You couldn’t get a job as a teacher and be principal after 143 days of experience.

You couldn’t join the military and become a colonel [or even 1st Leutenent] after a 143 days of experience.

You couldn’t get a job as a reporter and become the nightly news anchor after 143 days of experience.

BUT…

From the time Barack Obama was sworn in as a United State Senator, to the time he announced he was forming a Presidential exploratory committee, he logged 143 days of experience in the Senate. That’s how many days the Senate was actually in session and working.

After 143 days of work experience, Obama believed he was ready to be Commander In Chief, Leader of the Free World, and fill the shoes of Abraham Lincoln, FDR, JFK, and Ronald Reagan. 143 days.

And, strangely, a large sector of the American public accepts this. We wouldn’t accept [it] in our own line of work, yet some of us accept [it] for the President of the United States of America.

Come on folks, we are not voting for the next American Idol!

So the next time someone tells you that Obama has more experience than Palin, please feel free to set them straight.

Another Sarah Palin political cartoon from Ken…

I’ve never been much of a hot dog afficionado, but in my youth I suppose I consumed my share. And, as a kid growing up in south Florida, I learned to garnish them with ketchup and mustard. No kraut, no pickle relish, no onions, not even chili. Just ketchup and mustard. And I liked ‘em that way! But when I joined the Air Force, I discovered that people from different parts of the country preferred all manner of garnishment on their dawgs. But I stayed true to my roots, although I learned to incorporate pickle relish and enjoy an occasional chili dog.

My wife, on the other hand, is from Chicago, and if you know anything about Chicagoans, you know they take their hot dogs seriously. In fact, the Chicago metropolitan area boasts more hot dog restaurants than McDonald’s, Wendy’s, and Burger Kings combined!

The “Chicago Style” hot dog got its start from street cart hot dog vendors during the hard times of the Great Depression. Money was scarce, but business was booming for these entrepreneurs who offered a delicious hot meal on a bun for only a  nickel. They’d start with a Vienna Beef hot dog, nestle it in a steamed poppyseed bun and cover it with a wonderful combination of toppings: yellow mustard, bright green relish, fresh chopped onions, juicy red tomato wedges, a kosher-style pickle spear, a couple of spicy sport peppers and finally, a dash of celery salt. This unique hot dog creation with a “salad on top” and its memorable interplay of hot and cold, crisp and soft, sharp and smooth, became America’s original fast food and a true Chicago institution.

Regular readers may be asking themselves why I’m writing about hot dogs when Dawn and I are freshly minted, card-carrying vegetarians. Well, while grocery shopping over the weekend, we picked up a package of veggie-dogs and a pack of whole wheat buns. I don’t know, a quasi-dog sounded worth a try. And, without thinking, I asked if we needed ketchup and mustard.

“Ketchup?” my wife asked as if I’d said something shocking. “You don’t put ketchup on a hot dog!”

“Well, I do,” I said defensively.

“No you don’t,” she said, moving on.” No one puts ketchup on a hot dog.”

That got me wondering if I’d been committing a blatant technical foul all these years, so I did some research and came across the following not-so-serious hot dog etiquette courtesy of the National Hot Dog & Sausage Council:

Don’t…
Put hot dog toppings between the hot dog and the bun. Always “dress the dog,” not the bun.

Click to read more ...

Got this from Mike this morning…

Who Am I?

I am under 45 years old,
I love the outdoors,
I hunt,
I am a Republican reformer,
I have taken on the Republican Party establishment,
I have many children,
I have a spot on the national ticket as vice president with less than two years in the governor’s office.

Who am I?

Click to read more ...

Here’s another political ‘toon from Ken…

Several readers sent this asking that I post it. Watch it to the end.

Knowing how much I enjoy editorial cartoons, my brother Ken sent me a folder full featuring lady of the hour Sarah Palin. Here’s one…

Article removed by editor.

It’s been seven years. Perhaps the emotions you experienced that day - terror, disbelief, anger - have faded. Perhaps you think that day is a horrible part of our history to be filed away. It’s not. The enemy is reforming and will strike again. The war against evil is now and forever a part of our lives. We must be vigilant. We must use all means to defeat the enemy or he will surely defeat us. That is the nature of war. And make no mistake - we are at war.

We must remember the act of war that brought us here. Take a few moments to watch this video. Do you remember that day? Were you angry? Are you still angry?

We are Americans. We honor our dead and we give aid and comfort to those who have suffered. But then we return to the battlefield to engage and defeat the aggressor. He is still there, plotting, planning to attack again. The war is not over…

Remember those who perished that day. Say a prayer for those who carry on without them. Never forget.

This photo from friends John & Deb Phair of their dog “Sophie” made me chuckle. Sophie is a beautiful Coton de Tuléar, usually meticulously groomed. I fell in love with her the moment I first saw her. Well, who knew? She’s not only a little princess; she can rough it in the wild with the big dogs, too!

“You sorta get dirty fishing but it gives me some quiet time.”