Coast Guard Observations

By Tracy K. Lorenz

The Coast Guard Festival has descended upon my town and once again Grand Haven is stretched to the breaking point. Every restaurant, every square foot of parking, every grain of sand on the beach is occupied by tourists trying very hard to look like locals and I don‘t know why. Other than the carnival downtown there’s no difference between this week and every other week but for some reason a couple hundred thousand people stop in for a visit.

I did have one cool experience though; I saw Grand Haven summer resident, and Michigan State basketball coach, Tom Izzo walking around. If I were him I’d be hanging out by the basketball game on the carnival midway. If he can find a kid who can make a basket through an oval rim using an over inflated ball I’d sign him on the spot.

And I did have the opportunity to witness a Coast Guard rescue first hand. There are some large Coast Guard vessels down in the channel that they’re letting people walk through. Outside of the ships a couple of the off-duty crewmen were throwing a football around so I put my hand up in the international signal for “I’m open!” A crewman threw me a pass, I threw it back to another crewman and soon I was in a three man triangle of “catch.”

But when the triangle formed one of the crewmembers moved so he was pretty much standing with his back against the channel wall so the water was right behind him which I didn’t think was such a good idea. Here’s a little tip: just because you can throw a ball directly to a guy that doesn’t mean he has the skill set to catch it. Anyway, I got to watch a couple of the Coast Guard’s finest use a long pole to fish out a ball floating between the channel wall and the USS Mackinac. The waterline was about eight feet below the top of the wall so it wasn’t as easy as it sounds, I’m surprised they didn’t send in divers.

Mostly I went downtown to look at the tourists and make some observations…

It seems everyone is trying to hide behind a physical trait or clothing. They use them like a shield to project a certain image when in fact their hoping no one really sees what’s lurking behind the façade. Beards are a good example, unless you’re out trapping an elk there really isn’t a good reason for facial hair.

Sun glasses are another force field; the first word in sun glasses is “sun” so if there isn’t any sun they aren’t all that necessary unless you’re a cop or a blind guy. Harley gear sort of slips into this category, it’s frickin’ 85 degrees outside and there are men and women walking around in full leathers and do-rags making their own gravy. Why can’t they change clothes like people do in the winter? If I wear a winter coat and then go inside I take my coat off, the only reason to dress like that is because you’re trying to project an image of yourself that isn’t true or you’re trying to be standoffish because you really aren’t that interesting.

Cleavage is another sure sign of no confidence. It’s like a magician who has you look left while he’s doing something to the right. Girls who walk around flopping out of their shirts are just hoping you’re distracted enough to not notice the inadequacies they may possess (usually in the stomach region.) This doesn’t apply to girls under the age of eighteen, their just trying them out and treat cleavage as an accomplishment, like being proud of a new puppy even though you had nothing to do with it.

“The pack.” If you want to hide the best place to do it is in a pack. Whether it’s teenage guys with stupid looking hats and limited vocabularies or teenage girls cruising the streets like vicious little prairie dogs there’s safety in numbers.

Profanity. I was sitting outside the Kirby Friday night when a bouncer had a problem with some little drip in a sideways hat. The bouncer basically told him to move along, very politely I might add, and the little punk just let loose with a stream of profanity, he was just screaming cluster bombs for absolutely no reason other than to possibly impress the women of Grand Haven. I don’t think it worked. Here’s my theory, the kid was very obviously not from here and was probably self conscious about it so the two options are slink away or act so over the top that people won’t notice your bad hygiene. He chose number two and will this sleep alone.

Cell phones: The ultimate pacifier, if you lack self esteem just grab a phone and hold on for dear life. But I must admit that kids walking around with cell phones (in Grand Haven anyway) is down about 90%. Sure, you’ll see the occasional texter walk out into traffic but nature has a way of taking care of them. I’m very happy the texting trend is dying out because it makes riding my bike infinitely easier. Getting down the boardwalk on a bike used to be like playing Space Invaders, the only plus side is when the texter would momentarily snap out of her trance and notice a bike bearing down on her she’d get the eyeball-springs which almost made it worth while.

Children: Or maybe this should fall under “clothes you make your children wear.” I actually saw a baby in a stroller wearing a shirt that said “White Trash in the making.” I’m dead serious. What could possibly be the motivation for putting your kid in a shirt like that? Oh, wait, I saw the parents, I can see why they were trying to deflect the attention.

Driving

By Tracy K. Lorenz

Thoughts and observances while driving 2,000 miles across this great land of ours…

- Going strictly by the people I saw at the gas stations of Dixieland I’m amazed that NASA chose to base operations in the south.

- Whenever I drive through Appalachia I marvel that anyone had the ambition to carve a highway through a mountain range. Somewhere many years ago some boss walked into a conference room and said “Boys, we’re going to build us 700 miles of road right over the top of all those mountains” and there wasn’t a mass exodus from the room. If I was in charge of the highways of West Virginia they’d be about a foot long.

And then you think back to the original pioneers who decided to WALK from New England to wherever they were going. How bad does your life have to get before you say “Honey, pack up the kids, we’re walking to Georgia, make sure to pack the snake bite kit and Deet…” “Are we bringing the cow?” “Sure, it’ll be much easier to walk over 3,000 foot high mountains if we have a cow with us, just tie him to that rickety wagon with the wooden spokes.”

- There are Wal-Mart’s, and then there are Kentucky Wal-Mart’s.

- From Michigan to the Carolina’s if you’re driving near a town of at least 5,000 people that town will contain a hospital ranked in the top ten in America AND the largest Ford dealership in whatever state you’re in. According to the highway billboards anyway.

- Never ever ever set your Garmin to “Shortest route.”

- Who would have thought Little League Baseball could save our economy? Every hotel I stayed at (with the exception of The Carolina at Pinehurst Resort) had a group of kids acting like they owned the place (and the place next door) and they were accompanied by dad’s who were more than content to live vicariously through their kids while coughing up a lot of dough. These guys must have really ugly wives to want to spend a whole summer traveling with a bunch of teenage slack-jawed texting mouth breathers in Adiddas shower shoes. I talked to one Dad and he said they travel to a different tournament EVERY WEEKEND! He had two boys playing baseball and one daughter playing basketball. WHAT IS WRONG WITH THESE PEOPLE! For one thing there is no worse sport to watch than teen-age baseball (with the possible exception of any soccer game on earth.) If you want to spend your summer in the boiling heat watching a fourteen-year-old kid step out of the batters box to adjust his gloves every pitch then have at it. Just remember how much money you spent when your kid turns 15 and decides baseball is “stupid.”

- The larger the truck-stop, the greater the chance there’s a ‘Lion’s Den Adult Bookstore” nearby. I guess truck drivers are big readers.

- I’ve noticed that the country has become much more homogenous than when I was a kid, there are a lot less local specialty stores and tourist traps that sell souvenirs made of highly varnished pine. Somewhere there’s a warehouse packed with unsold “I sat my butt in Tennessee” ashtrays and questionable pecan pies. It’s sad, really, I used to love tourist traps even if the cool one-dollar jackknife fell apart before you got anywhere near back to home.

- Satellite radio is a gift from God.

- When you see the same “Mega-Millions Jackpot” signs in every gas station in every state it helps you realize that you have no chance of ever winning the lottery.

- Low point of the trip: Getting pulled over for doing 68 in a 50 MPH construction zone (completely void of any barrels or workers) and changing lanes without signaling.

- High point of the trip: Talking my way out of the ticket. I did get a computer printout of my warning though so I won’t be driving through Indiana again anytime soon.

Jerseylicious

By: Veda G. Rooks

I’m pretty sure I don’t even need to inform anyone of the happenings on August 4th because everyone must have already heard. Unless you are just getting out of jail or coma there is absolutely no excuse for you to not know that on Thursday August 4th, 2011, the highest rated television show will be returning to the air: “Jersey Shore”. Every Thursday I have to go without this extremely helpful and educational television program a piece of my heart breaks off and dies. In order to revive my soul I, Veda G., am on a quest to make myself Jersey-fied. By the time that glorious Thursday rolls around people will be mistaking me for JWoww by the minute.

The first way that I had to start my journey to Jersey was with a shopping excursion. Wearing Hollister cardigans and Payless shoes on the Shore is like showing up to Heavens pearly gates with a pitchfork and horns. Unacceptable. The only way they would even consider letting me into Seaside Heights requires me to be decked in garments that are bedazzled. I scoured the mall and realized that Muskegon is definitely lacking in the rhinestone department. Our lack-luster of anything Ed Hardy is very concerning to this Jersey-terian.

I moved onto the next category that had to be fulfilled before I made the trek to the Mecca of Italians: tight. Instead of shopping in my normal large I bumped it down two sizes to a small. Just to make sure anything I wore on my temple of a body left nothing to be desired. It has always been said that only good relationships are started on trust, so might as well put it all out there. Making sure every indent or roll that could possibly grace my skeleton was extremely visible (either good or bad) left no gray areas.
Lastly, I had to fulfill the third requirement: minimal. Whether it is jeans or a shirt, it had to be barely there. My mother always said that less is more (I believe that the fact she was talking about make-up is irrelevant), and Guidettes really seemed to latch onto that. As I was deciding between a pair of destroyed jeans or a shirt that only covered my no-no squares to round out my wardrobe, I had an epiphany. Somehow the less there is to the garment, the more it costs. Henceforth, I’m just going to sport my bathing suit 24/7. Just saved this kid about $150. Nobody said Guidettes had to be costly!

After getting my wardrobe in check, I had to continue my Jersey makeover with what to do about my hair. My Irish/Dutch roots and genetics have turned my mop into a sea of red. Nothing is more un-shorelike than a red-head. I had to do the only thing an aspiring-Snooki could do. I drove my little purple car to the nearest Rite Aid and bought the cheapest and darkest hair coloring kit I could possibly find. After shelling out $7.49 (from my knock-off glitter-encrusted Chanel clutch, of course) for my Piedra in a box I raced home to complete my head-to-toe Jersey Shore transformation. I plopped the tar-like substance on my once rojo tresses and waited for the magic to work. After making my head look like the inside of a sewer pipe, I had to add the finishing touch: a skunk stripe. Finally after adding gallons of hairspray I was able to replicate the pouf and was closer to achieving my JS dream.

My last step to Shoredom was to get in touch with my non-existent Italian roots. Due to Mona Shores placing an odd amount of extremely hot Lumberjacks in my Geography II class, the map isn’t really my “forte”. After consulting Wikipedia and Google to actually find out where on this giant globe Italy actually resides, I continued my research on how to be a Guidette (Wikihow has all the answers). My indoor voice is now a dull roar and over confidence oozes from my extremely spray tanned pores. Anything I say includes the words “hon”, “GTL”, “bro”, “babe”, “kid”, “grenade”, and “fist pump”. Bragging about my Uncle Nino and his ties to the Mafia are a part of everyday life. I eat pizza and baked Ziti for breakfast, and sloppy is my middle name. Unfortunately, my Michigander upbringing has left me unable to portray a legit Italian accent creating a crucial crossroad on my quest to be JWoww.

After a couple weeks of constant yelling and not being allowed out of the house with anything from my new wardrobe, I decided to step it up a few notches and go for Queen of the Guidettes. This season I will just be watching the “Jersey Shore” through a TV screen and pretending I’m in da clubs, yo. OK so in all reality Sweet Pea is done indulging this phase and has ordered an abrupt end to being called “Ma”. I got about as far as making Chicken Parm(esan) before my mom put a screeching halt on my Guidette transformation.
Obviously there can only be one Snooki out there. (thank you Sweet Baby Jesus) so I’ve decided that I’m going to start a revolution that over-exaggerates the roots of West Michigan Dutch/Irish homegirls, and this will start by my demanding that I only be referred to as Veda G. MCVanRock.

Everyone is Smiling in China

By Tammy Derouin

North Korea recently completed a study on happiness. This isolated, communist, media controlled country, somehow managed to survey the world and rate the happiness of people around the globe. The results are amazing! Who would have thought that China would finish in first place with a perfect score of 100 points? North Korea, Cuba, Iran, and Venezuela joined China in the top five. Are people really happy living in a country where the government provides everything? A government that controls and provides for its people doesn’t have the true interest of people in mind. Now the government is telling the people how they feel. It should come as no surprise that The United States came in last place.

Let’s see what other government-issued happiness exists in North Korea. The citizens of North Korea enjoy living in a very isolated country. This isolation provides the people with little outside interference. The government is thoughtful enough to keep technology away from the people. The people don’t need to have news and information from around the world that would only distract them. Didn’t Obama say, “Too much news can be distracting?” Life expectancy is 67.7 years. The mortality rate for children under 5 is approximately 63 per 1,000. There are sever restrictions on freedom of association and movement. Dissent of any kind is stopped immediately. Those that are detained are subjected to forced labor camps. There is also torture and mistreatment that result in death, and executions. Medicine is very difficult to get. Thousands cross the border into China searching for food and prosperity. Thankfully, the happiest country in the world smiles on those that are just slightly less happy. China arrests those that cross over and sends them back to North Korea where they are held in detention, interrogated, and tortured.

China, the land of 1,364.1million smiling faces. Life expectancy is a little higher at 73.5 years. Mortality rate for children under five is 25 per 1,000 if you’re male and 35 per 1,000 if you’re a female. The Chinese government will imprison and persecute people for peacefully expressing their views, practicing a religion that isn’t sanctioned by the state, standing up for reform and human rights, or defending the rights of others. Millions do not have access to health care. Many children are unable to attend school due to fees. China blocks media and social internet sites. News and information is filtered through the state run news outlets. They also enjoy corruption within the judicial system. They have detention without trial, house arrests without trial, and re-education by way of labor for people that are detained without charge or trial. Those that are a political threat can be charged with divulging “state secrets.” China requires internet and other communication companies to co-operate in investigations of “state secret” leaks. They face prosecution if they don’t. Thousands are executed every year, many for non-violent crimes.

It amazes me that there are people in The United States that think more government control is the answer. When government assumes it’s their responsibility to provide for the people, freedom of the people will eventually be lost. You don’t see a stampede of people trying to get into any of these top five “happiest countries” do you?

Do we really want to become like them? Yet just this past week Martin Bashir suggested that the media should be controlled by the government. Aren’t there enough left wing media outlets that currently bow down to Obama? Cass Sunstein wants all political blogs to offer opposing views. He would prefer that blogs do this voluntarily but if they don’t, he wants Congress to mandate a law requiring opposing views. This is a violation of free speech. You cannot force people to issue an opposing view if they don’t believe in it.

America must preserve its freedoms or suffer the consequences.

“Freedom is never more than one generation away from extinction. We didn’t pass it to our children in the bloodstream. It must be fought for, protected, and handed on for them to do the same.”

Ronald Reagan

From the soapbox

Tammy H. Derouin

I’d Like To Thank

Jim Rudicil for once again saving my giblets and helping to get the site back up after its two week hostile takeover. On the plus side, I did get a great deal on a mortage in Warsaw.

Tracy

Corn

By Tracy K. Lorenz

I just got back from a nice little 1,958 mile cross country drive. If anyone ever invents a worm hole I hope it eliminates the state of Ohio. I looked very closely and I really can’t find a good reason that Ohio exists, it’s just a giant void between the lakes of Michigan and the mountains of Kentucky.

The reason for the trip was I was playing golf in the NC Beautiful Classic at the famed Pinehurst Resort (site of the 2014 US Open) in North Carolina. The format was simple, four man teams and you took your best two scores on every hole; we finished at thirty-two under par and came in third. Gyp.

The cool part wasn’t just the golf, it was the event. You can’t believe how they treat you, we showed up and they had a guy from FootJoy there fitting everyone for new golf shoes, you couldn’t turn around without someone handing you a drink or throwing steaks and lobsters at you. We got golf balls, shirts, sweaters, and famed artist William Mangum was there to autograph a collection of his works that was included in our goody bag. It was three days of “Yes sirs” from the guys who took care of our clubs.

What the heck was I doing there?

One thing Ohio has plenty of is corn, billions of ears of corn. It was while I was driving past those billions of ears that I had a legal flashback…

Back when I was in college I spent a summer living with three guys of questionable character and little money and, accordingly, no one was throwing steaks, lobsters, and free golf shoes at us. One day we rode our bikes to Lake Lansing (which is only called “lake” because “Pond Lansing” doesn’t have a nice ring to it), Lake Lansing was a nice place to go look at the townies and forget our poverty. I remember that day for two reasons; 1) On occasion my roommates and I would talk backwards, not whole sentences just certain words. For instance “Nroc on the Boc” sounds cooler than corn on the cob, riding your ekib to the rab had a certain undeserved panache, and so on. Anyway, one of my roommates, Peter Duguid (pronounced Do Good, seriously) and I were standing in line at the drinking fountain and the guy in front of us was some biker and he was COVERED in tattoos, Pete looks at him, then looks at me and says “Nice oottats.” Now if you’re a guy covered in tattoos and some dink college kid behind you says “nice oottats” you don’t need the Rosetta Stone to crack the code. A short yet heated discussion ensued.

2) The bike ride back home was kind of depressing because we knew we were heading towards an oppressingly hot apartment and very little food. That’s when I spotted the corn. On the side of the road was a giant Michigan State corn field and it was ripe for the pickin’. A nice little treat after a hard day of lying on the beach.

The corn field was next to a busy street and we didn’t want to look like we were stealing corn so Pete went in to do a little harvesting while Paul “Scrap” Carlsen, Sir Chaz, and I stood by the road whistling in an inconspicuous manner. Next thing you know a gigantic ear of corn comes flying out of the field. There was some rustling and then another ear came flying out.

Because Pete was deep in the field and completely hidden by corn stalks we couldn’t tell where he was and he couldn’t tell where we were. His strategy was to pick one ear off random stalks so in the event anyone took inventory of the, oh, seven million ears no one would notice a few were missing.

So Pete’s chucking corn at us like a combine but because he didn’t really know where we were he was overthrowing us by a mile and the corn was heading into traffic. It was like trying to catch punts on a freeway. Making over-the-shoulder corn catches with a Ford bearing down on you tends to tweak the senses.

In a short period of death-defying time we had a dozen ears in our backpacks and we rode home for our feast.

We shucked the first ear and it had sort of a red tint to it, so did the second. In addition to being red the kernels seemed abnormally large but hey, it was still food. We boiled it for a good while and then sat down to eat; it was like biting pea gravel glued to a stick. We boiled it some more, same deal. About that time the girl from across the hall wandered over, looked in the pot and said “That’s feed corn.”

Sadness.

And that’s where the dichotomy comes into play. I think the idiot dodging cars for feed corn is more “me” than being treated like a Sultan at Pinehurst. If nothing else it truly shows that money and happiness don’t always line up. I was never poorer than I was on that day in East Lansing but I was never happier, I loved having to live off my wits. By the same token I had a great time in North Carolina, I guess it all comes down to the company you keep and the friends you keep it with and I‘ve been unbelievably fortunate when it comes to friends. It’s just odd to think of the winding trail that takes your life from catching feed corn to drinking from crystal, when you actually stop to think about it the whole thing is kind of…earie.