February 2nd, 2007 --  THE REAL ESTEBAN MIRANDA?
Tarzan fans will recognize the name of the character who impersonated the ape-man in two of the novels.  It's been a long while since I've had a rant, but this was too strange to pass up...

It all began with an article titled "Famous Iowans" appearing on DesMoinesRegister.com, spotlighting an old actor named John Frederick who claimed to have filmed 18 unaired episodes of the Geroge Reeves "Superman" series during a time when Reeves' continuance on the show was in doubt.  This attracted the attention of Steve Younis from SupermanHomepage.com, who began attempts to contact Mr. Frederick for comments, as there seemed to be no other corroborating evidence to support Mr. Frederick's claims other than small photos of Frederick dressed as Clark Kent, and in some form of tights and a cape (sans Superman logo).  All else seemed stacked against his story being true, including the fact that neither Noel Neill (Lois Lane) nor Jack Larson (Jimmy Olsen) had ever heard of him.

I found this very interesting and odd at the same time, and started digging around on my own...  There was little to be found about Mr. Frederick on the Internet, though I discovered he had written a memoir of sorts in 1999 called "Name Droppings On Your Head:  My Own Anecdotal Odyssey Through Hollywood's Glamorous Golden Age", published by Blue Dolphin Publishing.  The blurb on Blue Dolphin's website sported endorsements from such classic names as Debbie Reynolds, Jane Wyman, and Buddy Rogers, which seemed, well...  a little artificial, if I can say.  Then, lo and behold, on further reading I discovered that he claimed to have appeared (quote) "as Lord of the Jungle in Tarzan Meets His Mate".  Was this true?  There was no film with such a name, at least not to the knowledge of any expert I know -- the closest match was Johnny Weissmuller's "Tarzan And His Mate".  Not wanting to be overly skeptical, I considered the possibility of a typo in the title, and that Mr. Frederick might have performed as a stunt double for Weissmuller.

I read anything I could find on him, and searched IMDB.com for his history -- several films/television shows are listed (mostly uncredited, or under the name John Merrick), but no mentions of either Superman or Tarzan.  I also contacted Steve Younis about this -- his first attempt to contact Mr. Frederick by phone was unsuccessful, so he sent a letter.  I had the option of doing the same, but decided it best to wait to see what Steve came up with before pursuing it further, or commenting here.  As it turns out, Steve received a handwritten letter in return, supposedly from a caretaker for Mr. Frederick, stating:  "On his upcoming birthday Mr. Frederick will be 91.  He can no longer give interviews but wants to thank you for your interest in his career."

Phooey...  With no other sources to support his claims, I have no choice but to consider him a fraud at this point -- a spinner of great, tall tales.  He might have gotten away with it even 20 years ago, but he seems to have failed to consider the power of the Internet today.  The shame of it is, no one wanted to challenge this guy, but would have loved for his story to be true.  It would have been of great interest to both Superman and Tarzan fans.  Way to go, Esteban!


April 10th, 2005 -- "TARZAN AND THE INTRUDER", PART ONE -- "An Uninvited Guest"
NOTE:  This adventure has taken place over the last month, but I wanted to post the entries together so that they would read well from beginning to end.

We've lived in our house for four years now, and have never had a problem with intruders.  We have a state-of-the-art security system to warn us of perimeter breaches, and for extra safety, I sleep with my hunting knife (a huge Bowie) within reach.  It wasn't until a month ago that Susan told me she thought there was "something in the attic".  I did occasionally hear some scratching above, but as a first time homeowner that isn't used to maintaining his own residence, I paid little attention to it for a few weeks.  But the noises got worse.  My attention was piqued when I was shaving in my bathroom one morning and heard something rustling about directly behind the wall to my left.  It wasn't six inches away from my left elbow, and it was then that I felt a sense of urgency to resolve the matter.

As I mentioned, I had lived in my house for four years, yet remarkably had never gone up into my attic.  It's not one of those attics with an easily accessible pull-down ladder, but instead is only reachable through two very inconveniently placed panels which are located over shelves in closets.  I didn't relish the thought of digging my way up there to see what was going on, but the noises continued to worsen... it soon seemed that I was greeted with the rustling behind my bathroom wall each morning when I shaved.

I started knocking on the wall with my palm, and could hear the intruder scampering upwards in response to my racket.  At first I thought it was a squirrel, but later guessed that it might be a raccoon due to the indication of larger bulk given off by the noises behind the wall.  So when I couldn't stand it anymore, I readied my blowgun, knocked on the wall, and quickly ran outside to the front lawn.  There is a triangular-shaped vent on the roof that leads into my attic, which I suspected was the point of entry.  The louvers of the vent had become bent out of place, indicating forced entry.  So there I was, blowgun aimed, and within a few seconds, a furry head appeared from the louvers of the vent...  it was a RACCOON!!!


April 10th, 2005 -- "TARZAN AND THE INTRUDER", PART TWO -- "The Pursuit"
I fired a dart at the raccoon, but although I am a great shot with a blowgun, the distance from my position to the roof worked against me, and I saw the dart bounce with a sharp "whack" against the vent, missing the raccoon by about two inches.  The furry head disappeared, but a paw remained in sight.  I shot a second dart and again missed, and the paw quickly withdrew inside the vent.  I wanted to pursue the issue, but was running late getting to the office and had no time to spare.

The next day I was ready, with my blowgun loaded.  I had just gotten home from work, and had heard the raccoon behind the wall of my bathroom.  I grabbed the blowgun, and asked Susan to count to five and turn the attic fan on.  By this time I had realized that I had a much better vantage point to the roof when standing on the rails of the deck on the back side of my house.  It was dark by this time, and I had also equipped myself with a flashlight.  I didn't see the raccoon exit, but surely enough, when I turned my light upon the roof from the deck, two bright reflective eyes shone back at me.  I fired another well-aimed dart from my blowgun and hit the raccoon somewhere in its midsection.  I didn't expect to do much damage, and it didn't cry out in pain, but instead ran to the other side of the roof and disappeared into the darkness.

For two days, we maintained this dance, except now I had upgraded my armament to my lightest compound bow (about a 20# pull... I didn't want to knock a big hole in my roof with a missed shot).  I got lucky on Saturday, when Susan hit the switch of the attic fan perfectly in time with my arrival on the deck, and as the raccoon began to drop from the compromised vent, it raised its head and saw the tip of my drawn and readied arrow.  THWACK!!!  I have become a damn fine shot with this bow (which is cheetah-print, by the way), and at 20 feet, fully expected to impale the raccoon with the feathered, aluminum shaft.  Unfortunately, even though I was coaching myself on the shot, in my excitement I plucked the string and the arrow lodged between the louvers of the vent (harming neither the arrow nor the vent).  I missed the intruder by no more than a half-inch!  The startled raccoon quickly scampered to the other side of the roof, but I wasn't prepared for pursuit, and by the time I had made my way through the house to the front lawn, there was no sign of the masked bandit.  Where had it gone?

I was kicking myself for missing such an opportune shot, and was about to give up my search when I thought of the storm drain at the front of my neighbor's house.  On a lark, I walked to the gutter and crouched down, peering into the Stygian darkness, and within a moment I saw the raccoon appear at the entrance of the circular drain.  It stopped and stared at me as I readied my arrow, but as I began to draw the string, it backpedaled and once again disappeared from sight.  I muttered an oath under my breath, and wasted the next few minutes waiting for it to reemerge in vain.  Then I remembered that the tunnel emptied behind the fence in my next door neighbor's back yard.  This was part of a new drainage system that had been built to address problems that occurred five years ago (prior to my purchase of the house) when the construction of a new sporting goods store up the hill caused massive water flow into our area during heavy rains.  The problem was so intense that the water actually knocked the house to our left off of its foundation.  The city purchased the property, removed the house, and divided the emptied lot equally between the two adjoining properties.  Hence, my house resides on 1.5 lots, giving me a great back yard with lots of space for archery practice!

I haven't had a reason to enter the "jungle" behind my house this year, and a grim half-smile crossed my face at the thought of the opportunity.  I released my hair from the elastic band that held it pulled back, and grabbing my bow and quiver of arrows, my hunting knife, and a small flashlight I bounded the fence and made my way to the storm drain.  Having crossed the 30-year mark in my life, I hadn't done anything like this since I was a boy of 8 or 9.  The drain itself was very clean -- a circular concrete structure that stood about four feet in height.  I stooped before entering it, and switching on the flashlight which I grasped between my teeth, I fitted an arrow to my bow and began to navigate the tunnel.  No luck...  Within a few minutes I became certain that the raccoon had exited several minutes before as I stood fruitlessly at the other end awaiting its return.  I withdrew from the drain and returned to my house, intent on continuing the pursuit at the earliest opportunity.


April 10th, 2005 -- "TARZAN AND THE INTRUDER", PART THREE -- "Danger In Close Quarters"
I have a neighbor who is a med student (and who inherited the other half-lot, thanks to the afore-mentioned drainage problem).  Before beginning med school, he was a trained engineer, and he can build or repair just about anything.  I've hired him a few times to repair things around the house, and as always, he does an incredible job.  He's just as obsessive about quality as I am in my work, so I have the utmost confidence in his abilities, and am always more than pleased with the results.  I had asked him if he would be interested in repairing the vent in the attic, as well as inspecting the space for damage caused by the intruder.  He accepted, but unfortunately wasn't available that Saturday, and I found myself needing to enter the attic myself for the first time and survey the situation.  I did so, and saw how the raccoon had bent open the vent and torn the protective mesh screen away from the area to allow entry.  I also found the single drop-down where it had managed to crawl into the space behind the wall of my bathroom.  I bent the vent back into shape and located the missing metal pieces which helped hold it in place, and replaced them in position.

I made a trip to Home Depot to purchase tools and materials I thought I might need to repair the area, but by the time I returned, I noticed that the vent had been bent again to allow entry!  I knocked on the bathroom wall, but heard no sound.  I turned on the attic fan, and again, no sound.  The raccoon must have come and gone.

When I was a child, twice was our attic intruded upon by raccoons, and twice did my father end their intrusion with a .22 caliber rifle.  Remembering the experience, I called him for advice, which he gave... "They are extremely intelligent, mean as hell when threatened or wounded, and if you don't kill them on the first shot, they will either attack you or crawl into the most remote, inaccessible place in your attic and die there.  The smell will help you find them a few weeks later!"  Nice!!!  I also did some research on the Net for info on raccoon intrusions, which was very informative.  But as the raccoon seemed gone, I went ahead and entered the attic with my flashlight, hunting knife, and the repair materials.  I made my way to the vent, but stopped at the opening which led to the wall behind my bathroom and shined the flashlight.  The raccoon WAS there, looking up at me!  What was keeping it in the house?  I heard sounds -- high-pitched warbling noises that I guessed equaled raccoon speech.  This was an opportunity that couldn't be missed -- it would end tonight!

I asked Susan to pass me my bow and arrows, but after a few minutes, realized that there was no way in that cramped space that I could even draw the bow adequately, so I quickly abandoned that idea.  With the length of the drop-off (about 10 feet), I figured a spear might be the best approach, and thus I fashioned a crude spear from an extendable aluminum painter's pole from my garage and a small kitchen knife which I firmly affixed to the pole with duct tape.  It was perfect!  But because of the limited space in the attic, I had to retract the spear extension to position it into the shaft, reach down into the tunnel and extend the pole as far as possible, then twist to tighten it. 

It was difficult to maneuver in that space, and I feared that a mistake might prove disastrous if the raccoon tried to escape while I was at the opening of the drop-off.  I laid my hunting knife beside me, and holding a flashlight in my left hand and the extended spear in my right, I probed gently downward with the spear until the tip dangled and swung pendulum-like a fraction of an inch above the nose of the curious raccoon.  Why wasn't it panicking?  It seemed a cool as a cucumber under the circumstances, but perhaps it was just waiting for a chance to escape.  Had it gotten used to the banging on the wall and guessed that I was not an immediate threat?  For several minutes I weighed my choices.  I had gauged that I had enough reach to impale the raccoon from my position, but also debated raising the spear a bit and hurling it a few feet downward for maximum effect, though the risk of inaccuracy was greater.  Also, I had read that a scared or wounded raccoon could do a lot of damage to your residence while trying to escape, and I was concerned it might rip up the insulated ductwork if I didn't make quick work of it.  I tested the raccoon by reaching down a little farther with the spear until I made light contact, and the reaction was everything I had been warned about.  Wiith an unbelievably vicious growl and a lightning fast lunge that would make Sheeta the leopard proud, it attacked the spear, which I quickly withdrew.  I judged soberly that this was too risky an option, especially with the lack of a speedy retreat in the event of failure.  It was time to come up with a better plan.


April 10th, 2005 -- "TARZAN AND THE INTRUDER", PART FOUR -- "The Routing"
I decided to make a trip to Wal Mart for supplies, but it was Easter night, and they had closed early.  Just my luck!  The only choice I had left was to bother my other neighbor (an older gentleman) for advice, plus, he has every conceivable tool and gadget under the sun.  The first two options he gave, which were to either wait out the raccoon or lower a noose and try to snare it, didn't excite me.  Then he mentioned that he could loan me a small .32 caliber automatic pistol which had belonged to his father (yes, it was OLD!).  The bullets were even smaller than a .22, and therefore seemed perfect for the task.  I accepted, and after familiarizing myself with the safety and the action, I made my way back into the attic.

Although I am an expert shot with a pistol, I was wary of this gun because it wasn't any bigger than a Derringer, and I guessed it to be much less accurate than an average-sized handgun.  I got myself into position above the drop-off, and the raccoon was still there.  Gently, I attempted to chamber the first round, but the gun jammed!  I wiggled the slide a bit to see if the bullet would free itself, but instead, the slide began to come loose from the gun... sheesh!  I worked it back into position, and after removing and reinserting the magazine, the bullet chambered properly.

I lowered my gun arm into the tunnel, again holding the flashlight in my left hand.  The raccoon was in full view, but so also was an electrical wire which ran directly across its length a few feet above.  I was extremely concerned about hitting the wire by accident due to the probable inaccuracy of the pistol.  After another moment I had satisfactorily repositioned the electrical cable using the spear, and then took aim once again with the pistol.  I waited until the raccoon looked straight up at me, and with a steady hand I aimed very carefully between its eyes.  I squeezed the trigger very slowly until... BLAM!!!  The smoke from the shot obscured my view for a moment, so naturally and wisely I retreated by scooting backwards, balancing myself on the 2x6 beams to avoid stepping through the drywall ceiling by accident.  There was no response -- no shriek or sounds of movement -- I was certain I'd killed it.  After a few seconds, I made my way again to the opening and peered downward... There it was, but though very still, I could see its body pulsating while breathing.  Was it dying?  I wasn't certain anymore that I'd even hit it, but again took aim...  BLAM!!!  There was no guessing about the second shot, as the raccoon started, and then panicking began to make its way hastily up the shaft toward my position and possible freedom!  I grasped my hunting knife between my teeth and backed away again, and the raccoon emerged from the tunnel and sought to exit the newly repaired vent.  It seemed confused due to the wound as it didn't immediately hit the right spot to allow escape.  Once again, I took careful aim and...  BLAM!!!  The third shot struck true once more, and the raccoon fell from its position on the vent, but then turned and started to scamper in my direction.  With my knife still clutched between my teeth, I hastily exited the entrance to the attic, and plotted my next move.

I had parked a utility light above the tunnel, which I attempted to withdraw by reeling in the cord.  Unfortunately, the light bulb was jostled in the effort, and the attic went pitch black.  After retrieving the light and replacing the bulb, I slowly reentered the attic, looking quickly in all directions.  There was no immediate sign of the raccoon, and the vent had not been compromised again, but I immediately noticed the faint "copper" scent of fresh blood in the air.  I worried that my father's warning had come true... the raccoon had crawled into the most remote, inaccessible place in the attic to die.  I made my way back to the entry of the drop-off to find clues as to the whereabouts of the raccoon.  Beginning in the lower part of the shaft and continuing all the way up were heavy drops of blood, indicating that I had indeed struck it at least once before its attempted escape.  And again, by the vent, I found a large and messy blood splatter... the result of a shot that had passed clean through the body of the raccoon.  I attempted to track its spoor from that point by casting my flashlight back in the direction I had last seen it coming, but only found two small blood drops on a few of the 2x6 beams, and no noticeable blood on the insulation between them.  The trail ended there!  Once again, I carefully cast my light around the attic in all directions, but could see no signs of the intruder.  At this point, I exited the attic to brief my neighbor on what had happened, and to thank him again for loaning me the pistol.

I wasn't away more than 5 minutes, when on returning I once more focused the beam of the flashlight on the triangular vent of the attic to find it bent out of shape again...  the intruder had escaped!!!  Once again, I entered the attic, and this time examined the vent and surrounding area very carefully, but curiously, there was no new blood spoor.  I pointed my flashlight between the bent louvers of the vent onto the roof certain that I would see blood, but...  again, there was none.  Finally, I examined the outside of the vent louvers, fully convinced that such a wounded creature couldn't exit without leaving a trail, but only found a single faint blood streak, which had already dried.

All I knew for certain was that it had escaped, but what condition it was in, I could only guess.  I repositioned the louvers of the vent a third time, and exiting the attic, called it a night.


April 10th, 2005 -- "TARZAN AND THE INTRUDER", PART FIVE -- "A Surprise Discovery"
A couple of days had passed since the battle with the raccoon, and that day when I arrived home from work, I mentioned to Susan with pride that it appeared to be gone for good.  No sooner had the words exited my mouth when I heard a distinct high-pitched warbling noise from behind the wall (the same noise that I had mentioned earlier).  I raced to the outside of the house, but saw that the vent had remained undisturbed.  Had the raccoon fooled me into thinking it had escaped?  Or... there must have been a baby!  Two days without its mother and nourishment had caused it to cry audibly during the day for the first time.

I had considered the possibility that the raccoon was trying to start a family in my attic before, but had not seen sign of any young when I had scanned the drop-off with my flashlight two nights ago.  But this explained why the raccoon had not attempted escape much earlier that Easter Sunday, and also why it seemed so resolute to guard its position while I was taunting it with the spear.  How would I get the thing out?  There was only one choice... I would have to cut a hole in the wall!

After carefully measuring from every angle, I ended up cutting two holes with a drywall saw... one in the upstairs hallway outside my bathroom, and one in the coat closet behind the bathroom on the middle level.  I cut both holes small enough that they could be easily masked with a faceplate, because the thought of butchering my walls was torture.  The view from the hole in the upstairs wall was obscured by an air duct, and though I could hear the raccoon directly behind, I couldn't proceed further.  The view from the hole in the coat closet was also obscured by the meeting of the air duct with a vent pipe surrounded by insulation.  I had no more easy choices, so I widened the hole enough to pull the insulation away from the vent pipe, exposing a one-inch gap.  Surely enough, the noises got louder, and within seconds the head of a baby raccoon appeared in the fissure!

It couldn't have been more than a few days old... it didn't even have its eyes open!  I tried in vain for 30 minutes to coax it out of the hole, but I was unsuccessful.  Finally, I developed an idea to try to manually pull it through with the aid of a straightened coat hanger.  I got very lucky on the first attempt, and the baby was now on my side of the ductwork.  I couldn't help but immediately pick it up with my hand and examine it.  It was precious -- slightly larger than a gerbil, and with only the faint beginnings of teeth it its mouth.

It had dried blood in two places on its head near its snout, and I was worried that I'd scratched it, but that turned out not to be the case.  I gave it a bath in the sink, and after a few minutes the warm water had softened and disintegrated the blood to reveal no wounds underneath.  This means that the dried blood had come from the baby's mother that I had shot two nights before, and with that realization, my heart softened as I felt the weight of the implication in my soul.  Animal or not, the loss of one's birth mother is a catastrophic event.

Susan hated what I was doing, and has some inexplicable fear of wild animals, but this echoes the fundamental conflict between Tarzan and Jane...   though bound by love, they were separated by nature.  Jane could accept Tarzan as a mate, but could never truly relate to or condone his wild heritage.  Basically, Susan said, "You're NOT keeping it!" (YES, mates have virtual "scarlet scars" that glow red from time to time).

Instead, I called my mother and her husband over to see the baby, and they were immediately taken by it.  I asked my mom to help find a home for the suckling, and they did so.  The baby is now being raised by mother's brother-in-law, who is retired and has plenty of time to attend to it.  And as of last report, it's thriving, growing lots of hair, and doing very well!  I have visitation rights, and am looking forward to seeing the baby again soon!  That was a very special evening... if you are interested, we took several pictures, and you will find them here.


April 10th, 2005 -- "TARZAN AND THE INTRUDER", EPILOGUE
Another week had gone by, and I'd been swamped at work, with little to no time to think about the baby raccoon or the needed reinforcements to the vents in the attic.  So there I was, deep in slumber one night when I was awoken by a loud noise overhead at 4am in the morning... With a start, I grabbed my hunting knife and arose to full attention.  What I heard was so telling... a rapid, seemingly fearful dash by an intruder into the house and down the drop-off into the raccoon's former nest, and after a brief second of silence, the sound of a mad scamper upwards and out onto the roof.  I ran to part the wooden blinds above my couch, just in time to witness a shadowy form pause at the gutter in front of my neighbor's house, which quickly disappeared into the gloom beneath.  I dressed myself long enough to run outside and focus my flashlight on the outer vent, only to find it pried open wider than ever before...  Returning to the house, I felt the mother's grief as I sank back down into my bed, and it was another two hours before my restless mind relinquished itself to the peacefulness of slumber.

The intruder hasn't returned...

~ FINIS ~


March 1st, 2005 -- "TARZAN AND THE GIANT KILLER"
IT'S HERE!!!  My "Tarzan And The Ant Men" replica bow arrived in the mail recently, and I'll be damned it it isn't a perfect working replica of the bow pictured in the Boris Vallejo book cover!  It's AWESOME!!!  I've christened it "The Giant Killer" -- most appropriate if you've seen the original artwork.  Took me a few days to get used to it, and the first time I fired it I popped the HELL out of my wrist (the bruise took two weeks to heal... haha) but now I'm becoming most proficient in its use.  I had to have some custom arrows made as well, and they are gorgeous.  I have pics of the bow, and Susan has snapped a few shots of me shooting it.  I will be posting pictures SOON!  Shout-outs go to Damon Kent from www.kentarchery.com for crafting such an excellent bow that has been the envy of everyone that has seen it so far, and also to Daryl Olson of Olson Traditional Archery for making the arrows.

Next up, I've asked Damon to craft for me a replica of the African self-bow that Jock Mahoney is seen using in the movie "Tarzan's Three Challenges".  It will be named "The Challenger", in honor of the film.  Stay tuned!


February 10th, 2005 -- SPOILS AND PLUNDER
I was excited to find that my tax refund this year was rather rewarding -- as is my tradition, I earmark a modest percentage for pure, unadulterated splurging.  : )  I've gotten into archery once again, and after buying a few bows and related gear have been very pleased with my progress in such a short time.  I found a bowyer online who specializes in primitive and traditional bowmaking, and have hired him to craft me a replica of the bow seen on Boris Vallejo's Ballantine cover for "Tarzan And The Ant Men".  The guy's name is Damon Kent, and his website is www.kentarchery.com.  Anyway, Damon seemed looking forward to making the bow, and was instantly confident in the materials he would use to duplicate it.  Even better, I e-mailed a picture of another bow he'd made (which was very similar) to Boris himself, and Boris commented on its definite likeness to the "Ant Men" bow.  Should have the finished bow in a few weeks, and will post pictures.  Keep checking back!


January 23rd, 2005 -- ERB IN MP3 !!!
As much as I love to read, I unfortunately don't find myself with much time to do so.  I've been intending on reading other works of ERB such as the Martian series for a long time.  Then, over the holidays I purchased a personal MP3 player (about the size of a pack of gum), and discovered that free audio books in MP3 format were available for many of ERB's works (not to mention tons of other classics that are now in the public domain).  I'm in heaven, finally catching up with books it would have taken me forever to get to if I had to find the time to read them.  I'm able to listen in the car, in the gym, and even before I go to sleep with ease -- I'm averaging one book per week, and am finally enjoying "A Princess Of Mars" for the first time!  Some people don't care for the computer-synthesized voice present in many free MP3 audio books (designed originally as an aid to the deaf), but I was able to adjust rapidly to it and it doesn't bother me a bit.  I would encourage anyone as time-challenged as I am to go to www.gutenberg.org and check out what is available.  A link directly to the ERB books available is here. 


December 27th, 2004 -- "TARZAN'S ARCTIC ADVENTURE"
I've lived in my house for 3 years now.  I remember that while having some painting done shortly after the purchase, the new A/C system conked out right on the coldest day of Winter.  My father-in-law was trying to paint a room which had descended to 50 degrees Fahrenheit (NOT easy).  I called the service company whose phone number was stickered on the side of the unit, and after three minutes of shutting down and restarting the system, the heat came back on without further issue for a year.

I had forgotten about this incident until the next year, when the heating unit failed once again.  Needless to say, the outer temperature had dropped such that I was willing to pay any price to continue to live in my house.  So the A/C guys came out, found that the drainage line had frozen, and told me that the A/C unit will automatically shut down if the drain gets clogged.  Rather than tracing down the blockage, they replaced the entire drainage line.  It cost me $100, but it was the last time I had problems that year.

Fast forward to half a week ago, December 2004... This is the coldest Winter we've had in a long time, with temperatures falling well below freezing.  And we had just gotten snowed in for what looked to be 3 to 4 days.

I was asleep when my wife awakened me around midnight to tell me that the heat was out... I probably wouldn't have noticed the drop in temperature if she hadn't told me.  But it WAS cold...  I was concerned at first about the ability to get the unit repaired, until I remembered the cause of the problem the year before.  I got dressed, and went outside to find the naked copper drainage line buried in the snow and frozen at the tip.  I tried a lighter, but it wouldn't stay lit in the chilling wind, so I regathered my thoughts, and brought out a gallon of steaming water which I poured over the exposed tubing.  It did the trick, and the heat resumed operation.

I did mention, though, that this was the coldest Winter that we'd had ever since buying the house.  I was asleep for a few hours, when I felt a chill reach straight into my bones.  I awoke again, at 3am, and realized that the heat was again incapacitated.  I got dressed one more time, and tried the hot water trick to no avail... The freeze had reached beyond the exposed 5 inches of drainage tubing.  I had a choice.... either bundle up and go back to bed, or get underneath the house to try to succor the frozen copper line again.  Did I say I had a choice?  I really had NONE, with a wife and my little Balu sleeping under the same roof.  I decided that if I was going to have to get up at 3 o'clock in the morning in the coldest part of Winter to crawl on my hands and knees in the crawlspace underneath my house, I would be a savage about it and have some fun with the experience.

I got dressed, sort of.... I let my long hair hang down in my face, and tied a scarf around my head to keep my view somewhat unobscured, and embarked on my "adventure."  I hadn't been underneath my house since I'd bought the place, but I crawled through the cobwebs with a flashlight acting as my torch until I reached the copper tubing that served as the drainage system for the A/C unit., batting away the cobwebs as I frequently encountered them.  Balancing myself in a very uncomfortable position, I proceeded to pour hot water down the length of the pipe until at the last moment, my ears were rewarded with a "pop" and a "hiss" as the blockage cleared from the line and the pent up water drained out.

The next day, I ventured out in questionable road conditions to Home Depot to purchase some pipe insulation.  I thought this would be best, as the weather forecast predicted an even colder night to come, and I wasn't up for another 3am arctic adventure.  One more trip under the house to apply the insulation, and my plan worked well, as the heat has not failed since (and hopefully never again).

Normally, I would count this memory a lesson learned, and one which I would never hope to repeat.  And practically, this is so, but inside, I am thankful for the opportunity to get me out of my shell, go wild and give in to my sense of adventure.


October 31st, 2004 -- TWO FAMILIAR VILLAINS
In the spirit of the day, I decided to watch some of the newer horror movies on DVD.  I specifically was interested in "Dawn Of The Dead", not having seen it or any of the original George Romero classics.

You'd think that in any situation where civilization and the human race was at stake, people would drop all differences, combining their resources in an effort to survive.  But here, we have two specific characters who are hostile from beginning almost to the end.  One was a mall security guard who strongly resists allowing other survivors to join their ranks (ever heard the term "strength in numbers", buddy?).  When he finally gives in, he takes the newcomers' weapons and keeps them locked up.  He makes it known at one point that he is willing to kill everyone in the group to ensure his own survival.

The other jerk is a sleazy playboy type -- he really reminded me of Christian in "Nip/Tuck".  He is not willing to do anything to help the group, and spends most of his time antagonizing and downgrading them.

However, of these two villains, one eventually redeems himself.  The security guard at some point learns something about honor, and ends up putting himself at the forefront of the danger to protect the rest of the group.  The playboy, however, is worthless and unredeemable, eventually meeting a satisfying fate.

In my observation, both of these characters had parallels to various Tarzan villains.  The security guard was like the Hon. Morison Baynes from "The Son Of Tarzan".  Baynes started out as a selfish, egocentric man with dastardly designs, but at a point in the story, realizes the shame of his ways and goes to extreme lengths of pain and hardship to redeem himself, eventually losing his own life in that quest.

The playboy was definitely like Nikolas Rokoff from "The Return Of Tarzan" and "The Beasts Of Tarzan".  He was evil to the core, and didn't possess internally anything capable of being redeemed.  His end was satisfying.


October 2nd, 2004 -- A CHOICE WE ALL MUST FACE
Many people consider me to be highly "political".  This isn't really accurate, because I have no tolerance for the posturing and deceit that makes up so much of the process.  However, I do have strong beliefs, and I am always willing to share them with people that ask (if you are reading this, I'll assume you are interested).  Having these beliefs, I am naturally interested in what is going on in the world -- especially with elections that help determine the future of the United States of America.

The sad thing is there are so few who run for office with the people's best interest in mind anymore.  They place their own personal ambitions and hunger for power far ahead of the betterment of mankind, and will do or say anything to achieve their goals.  And unfortunately, I'm concerned that an ever increasing number of people are willing to gobble up the lies, half-truths and emotional plays without the healthy skepticism and curiosity that lead to making smarter, informed choices in life.  Greedy politicians know this, and focus on carpet-bombing the people with misleading statements and advertisements, coming thru to scoop up their ill-gained votes once they've been "softened up" enough.

It's bad enough for any of us to be intellectually lazy, but even worse, as some people are getting dumber, they are becoming more opinionated!  There is little else that gets my goat like the mealy-mouthed, arrogant rantings of the unschooled!  :-)  And so I encourage these people to educate themselves a little more before pulling a lever in the voting booth that might lead to America falling into the Earth's Core.  Please drop your steady diet of reality TV shows and grocery store tabloids, and learn to quit judging people based on the most superficial criteria.  A person's history and past actions say everything about what you can expect from him in the future, while a big smile and a cool tie mean little to nothing.  Be an individual and make up your own mind, rather than aligning yourself with popular and trendy opinions.  And most importantly, vote based on your personal convictions rather than emotions, which are unreliable and change with the wind.

I'll stop short of identifying my choice in the 2004 Presidential elections, but will say that I see an extremely clear distinction between the two candidates.  As for the one I'm not voting for, I think Tarzan would hold him with the same regard as Nikolas Rokoff if the two ever met.  :-)