I took my nephews sailing yesterday on my 27 ft yacht, named "Feckless". I am 45 yrs senior to the youngest who is 13 and his brother is 14 yrs old. It was a nice day on the lake. Temperatures in the mid 80's and partly cloudy with winds 7 to 9 mph. We had a great day on the lake. But I made some observations about this younger generation I will share with you if you dare to read on.
I asked them about girlfriends and they said they did not have one. Of course these days one has to be careful, but they assured me they were not queers and I did not press that issue too hard.
I tried to man up the little fellows while in my charge as their father is a bit of a milque toast fellow who is the IT geek at the local hospital. I do not see what my sister sees in Gilbert, but they have been married for 17 yrs and seem to be happy.
Anyway, it was the best weekend so far this spring and lots of big motor boats out with bikini clad gals being driven all across that old lake. I told Caleb and Jacob to wave to "the titties" as they pass by, and they looked at me as though I was some sort of nearly 60 yr old pervert.
I began to wonder what was the difference between this youngest, newest generation and mine which came of age just after WWII. I see a few broken bones each football season now and we never had a broken bone when I played for the Rams in the late 60's. By the time I was 14, like Jacob, I had had at least three serious girlfriends and two break-ups that put me to bed for a day or two when they happened, but I got up and found me another one the next week. These boys will not be ready to deal with rejection and disappointment when they get older and will likely have to take prozac or something to alter their mind chemicals when the reality of life hits them. We took the hits and kept on coming at life when I was a boy.
I cannot say my life has not been a series of serious setbacks and disappointments since I was taken by my parents to see the Beatles in Memphis in 1966. I blame them for my peaking too soon, but I am not a complainer.
Back to the problem with Jacob and Caleb. The environment is cleaner for these too pasty white juveniles. When I was a boy there was above ground nuclear testing and we had lots of radioactive milk to drink which I concede kept our bones stronger than todays youths, hence the lack of broken bones when I competed in contact sports. We also had a fog truck that sprayed DDT for mosquitos in our little town twice a week, and we competed with each other on our bikes to be the one who could ride fast along the fogger truck and stay in the thickest part of the cloud the longest.
We routinely broke and inhaled deeply from vapors contained in the fluorescent lights we would find out behind the grade school when they were thrown away by the janitor. Liquid mercury was stolen from the science lab and played with by all and we even coated our silver quarters with it to make our money shine. I guess the lead paints in our homes protected us from the mercury.
We did not have carseats or seat belts. We drank beer when we were teenagers and the cops, who were all WWII vets, kept us safe and gave us breaks when they caught us. I feel sorry for these boys. What a milque toast world and a milque toast life they are living in.
Wave to the boats with titties boys! They did not, so I did. Is DDT stored and converted into testosterone in the human body. What else could it be? If this is true we must bring back DDT before humanity is ruined!
Is is just me or the times they are a changing?
Jackson Delano Maybolt, president Urban Poverty Law Center
Showing posts with label mercury. Show all posts
Showing posts with label mercury. Show all posts
Monday, April 30, 2012
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Urban Poverty Law Center Policy On Lighting
I know the readers have been clamoring for the policy of UPLC on fluorescent lighting.
Most of you are aware fluorescent lights require mercury to ionize the gas in the bulb or tube to produce light. The mercury is great until it gets out of the bulb and onto your floor. Then it can vaporize and enter your lungs and blood stream and make its way to your brain where it will turn your 100 watt bulb into a 60 watt bulb. The biochemistry and the neurochemistry are way to complex for a publicly read treatise, but believe me, I have it on good authority, mercury in the brain is bad.
Billy Chaterleaux, had a promising career as a line worker at Proctor and Gamble in Jackson. He made pringles and had to make sure the potato slurry was the correct consistency as it was poured into those molds. He had worked without err for over 13 years when tragedy struck. He was in the den watching Bill O'Reily on Fox News when his wife, Millicent, came into the room brandishing a curly fluorescent light, where she removed the old fashion incandescent bulb and screwed the new light into the lamp on the table beside Billy's chair.
Things went well except Billy had to buy 2.25 powered reading glasses since the softer fluorescent light made reading harder for him than the old fashion 75 watt bulb. Then the mercury hit the floor when Billy accidentally toppled the lamp when he struck at a common house fly who was busy practicing touch and go landings on his gloriously bald head. Billy was not sure why the fly was so keen on his noggin, but he pondered if the better view up there might have something to do with it.1
Anyway, when the bulb broke it sent over 1,000 micrograms of elemental mercury into the living space. The fly wisely exited the room immediately and made its way to the litter box where it made a flawless six point landing on a fresh pile. The limited view, though not nearly as breathtaking as the lookout afforded by old Billy's head, was more than compensated by the cuisine and the aromatics the fly encountered in his new local. Jackpot!
Flies are queer little creatures.
Billy picked up the broken glass and got the vacuum out and vacuumed up the mercury dust, but in doing so, he contaminated the entire house. Millicent called the EPA and they came in and closed the house off. Billy and Millicent moved in with her parents while the EPA determines if the house will have to be demolished and placed in baggies and shipped off to Nevada where the spent nuclear fuel rods are stored, or if just tearing out the carpeting,the walls and replacing the insulation, the sheet rock, and flooring will be good enough to reduce the mercury contamination in the home to 0.00000376 nanograms, the maximum allowed in occupied homes. Understand now that an average can of Starkist tuna has 0.00000384 nanograms of mercury.
Billy asked Ned Bunsenburner, the West Tennessee EPA representative, how a can of Tuna could have fully 0.00000008 nanograms more than his home and be safe? To which Ned replied,
"Safe, hell the tuna in that can is dead and it comes under the jurisdiction of the Food and Drug Administration and they have totally different standards than the EPA. We here at the EPA feel they are too lax in their allowances. But we can't allow you back into your home until our quality standards are met. We are just looking out for your health. If you and Mrs Chaterleaux become retarded because of the mercury you would be a great burden on the tax payers and potentially add to the deficit. Good God man, did you ever consider what it could do to the debt ceiling?"
Billy understood about the deficit as well as the debt ceiling.
Three months after the Chaterleaux home was gutted they are still living with Millecent's mother. The EPA has long since retreated back to its offices in Memphis. Billy got kicked in the head by one of his mother-in-laws alpacas. When he came out of his coma he was worse off than if the mercury had had its way with his brain. He is still on at Proctor and Gamble but in a less demanding capacity which is more consistent with his "new skills level" as his physical and medical rehab worker puts it.
Six months have passed since the lamp crashed to the floor, the Chaterleauxs are not back in their home. They are expecting a final ruling from the EPA anytime now, but the decision has been kicked up to a higher level at the regional offices in St. Louis, Mo.
They tried to sue the company that makes the bulbs, but congress granted them immunity. Now I hear the Chaterleaux's are driving to Washington DC with 2 dozen fluorescent bulbs in the car. She plans to protest by throwing all the bulbs from the gallery at congress while it is in session. Should work better than a filibuster.
After a toxic clean up break in the House, perhaps congress will repeal the law against the incandescent bulb and outlaw the toxic ones. Naw, that would be too much to hope for.
There are fools and there are damn fools. We the people are the fools and congress is filled with damn fools.
Godspeed, Lady Chaterleaux!
Jack Maybolt, President Urban Poverty Law Center
"Heat a gold coin to 2000 degrees and you still have gold. Heat a hundred dollar bill to 2000 degrees and all you have left is carbon. There is no paper money in hell." Mother Maybolt 1923-2008
1. Mark Twain from his autobiography, days in Florence.
Most of you are aware fluorescent lights require mercury to ionize the gas in the bulb or tube to produce light. The mercury is great until it gets out of the bulb and onto your floor. Then it can vaporize and enter your lungs and blood stream and make its way to your brain where it will turn your 100 watt bulb into a 60 watt bulb. The biochemistry and the neurochemistry are way to complex for a publicly read treatise, but believe me, I have it on good authority, mercury in the brain is bad.
Billy Chaterleaux, had a promising career as a line worker at Proctor and Gamble in Jackson. He made pringles and had to make sure the potato slurry was the correct consistency as it was poured into those molds. He had worked without err for over 13 years when tragedy struck. He was in the den watching Bill O'Reily on Fox News when his wife, Millicent, came into the room brandishing a curly fluorescent light, where she removed the old fashion incandescent bulb and screwed the new light into the lamp on the table beside Billy's chair.
Things went well except Billy had to buy 2.25 powered reading glasses since the softer fluorescent light made reading harder for him than the old fashion 75 watt bulb. Then the mercury hit the floor when Billy accidentally toppled the lamp when he struck at a common house fly who was busy practicing touch and go landings on his gloriously bald head. Billy was not sure why the fly was so keen on his noggin, but he pondered if the better view up there might have something to do with it.1
Anyway, when the bulb broke it sent over 1,000 micrograms of elemental mercury into the living space. The fly wisely exited the room immediately and made its way to the litter box where it made a flawless six point landing on a fresh pile. The limited view, though not nearly as breathtaking as the lookout afforded by old Billy's head, was more than compensated by the cuisine and the aromatics the fly encountered in his new local. Jackpot!
Flies are queer little creatures.
Billy picked up the broken glass and got the vacuum out and vacuumed up the mercury dust, but in doing so, he contaminated the entire house. Millicent called the EPA and they came in and closed the house off. Billy and Millicent moved in with her parents while the EPA determines if the house will have to be demolished and placed in baggies and shipped off to Nevada where the spent nuclear fuel rods are stored, or if just tearing out the carpeting,the walls and replacing the insulation, the sheet rock, and flooring will be good enough to reduce the mercury contamination in the home to 0.00000376 nanograms, the maximum allowed in occupied homes. Understand now that an average can of Starkist tuna has 0.00000384 nanograms of mercury.
Billy asked Ned Bunsenburner, the West Tennessee EPA representative, how a can of Tuna could have fully 0.00000008 nanograms more than his home and be safe? To which Ned replied,
"Safe, hell the tuna in that can is dead and it comes under the jurisdiction of the Food and Drug Administration and they have totally different standards than the EPA. We here at the EPA feel they are too lax in their allowances. But we can't allow you back into your home until our quality standards are met. We are just looking out for your health. If you and Mrs Chaterleaux become retarded because of the mercury you would be a great burden on the tax payers and potentially add to the deficit. Good God man, did you ever consider what it could do to the debt ceiling?"
Billy understood about the deficit as well as the debt ceiling.
Three months after the Chaterleaux home was gutted they are still living with Millecent's mother. The EPA has long since retreated back to its offices in Memphis. Billy got kicked in the head by one of his mother-in-laws alpacas. When he came out of his coma he was worse off than if the mercury had had its way with his brain. He is still on at Proctor and Gamble but in a less demanding capacity which is more consistent with his "new skills level" as his physical and medical rehab worker puts it.
Six months have passed since the lamp crashed to the floor, the Chaterleauxs are not back in their home. They are expecting a final ruling from the EPA anytime now, but the decision has been kicked up to a higher level at the regional offices in St. Louis, Mo.
They tried to sue the company that makes the bulbs, but congress granted them immunity. Now I hear the Chaterleaux's are driving to Washington DC with 2 dozen fluorescent bulbs in the car. She plans to protest by throwing all the bulbs from the gallery at congress while it is in session. Should work better than a filibuster.
After a toxic clean up break in the House, perhaps congress will repeal the law against the incandescent bulb and outlaw the toxic ones. Naw, that would be too much to hope for.
There are fools and there are damn fools. We the people are the fools and congress is filled with damn fools.
Godspeed, Lady Chaterleaux!
Jack Maybolt, President Urban Poverty Law Center
"Heat a gold coin to 2000 degrees and you still have gold. Heat a hundred dollar bill to 2000 degrees and all you have left is carbon. There is no paper money in hell." Mother Maybolt 1923-2008
1. Mark Twain from his autobiography, days in Florence.
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