A WOMAN has been eaten by a lion after it escaped from a game reserve in Kenya.
Martha Nduta was said to have been attacked in her own home, and dragged from the property on Friday.
Officials, who searched the area in the Nyahururu district for her, found only a human skull and a few scraps of bone.
Relatives identified the tragic 58-year-old's body from the remains of her ripped clothes and a shoe found at the scene.
Francio Nyamatari, Laikipia West police chief, said Kenya Wildlife Service rangers are now hunting the male lion as panic-stricken villagers fear it may strike again.
It is believed the rogue animal escaped through a broken fence at the private Laikipia Nature Conservancy before entering a nearby village, 110 miles north of Nairobi.
The reserve, which works to ensure the protection of wildlife, is a huge site surrounded by an electric fence to keep dangerous animals inside.
But local reports suggest part of the barrier had recently been destroyed by elephants.
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
When elephants and lions start working together, none of us are safe.
http://www.thesun.co.uk/sol/homepage/news/3703021/Woman-eaten-by-escaped-lion.html
Saturday, July 9, 2011
Reading Ted Williams' autobiography when young
When I was growing up, I was a voracious reader of baseball books, most of which were written by adults. One book I read was Ted Williams' autobiography. My mom picked up on it right away when I started calling people SOBs, without knowing what that stood for.
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Mailman poops in customer's yard.Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night... nor REALLY, REALLY HAVING TO TAKE A DUMP! ...stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds."
Adventures in Spanish
Mark Fowler reports that A friend of his niece has a very ornate tattoo that reads "Last of a dying bread." Reminds me of a few adventures in Spanish.
Once in a Juarez bar, Don Felix, I asked for a "vaso de hielo," wanting a glass with just ice. My friends behind the bar gave me a hard time; seems their glasses are all made of glass, not ice.
A few years ago in Dallas, they had signs at bus stops that included the phrase, "...entablar el camion...," wanting to refer to getting on the bus, but instead, their idea of "boarding the bus" meant nailing boards to the bus.
Finally, at Danals Restaurant in Irving, TX, a favorite hangout of mine, most of the customers and employees spoke Spanish as their primary language. One of the waitresses, not so much. Having a sore arm, she said, "Me duele mi arma." I did not laugh at her, but I did have a good time re-telling the story to other people in the place. "Arma," of course, refers to a weapon, not a body part.
Once in a Juarez bar, Don Felix, I asked for a "vaso de hielo," wanting a glass with just ice. My friends behind the bar gave me a hard time; seems their glasses are all made of glass, not ice.
A few years ago in Dallas, they had signs at bus stops that included the phrase, "...entablar el camion...," wanting to refer to getting on the bus, but instead, their idea of "boarding the bus" meant nailing boards to the bus.
Finally, at Danals Restaurant in Irving, TX, a favorite hangout of mine, most of the customers and employees spoke Spanish as their primary language. One of the waitresses, not so much. Having a sore arm, she said, "Me duele mi arma." I did not laugh at her, but I did have a good time re-telling the story to other people in the place. "Arma," of course, refers to a weapon, not a body part.
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
What is a Job Worth?
I've been rich and I've been poor. Rich is better - Sophie Tucker
I used to believe that. I'm not sure, any more.
I've had high-paying jobs, and low-paying jobs. High-paying jobs are better.
This, I'm sure of. Because, when they pay you more, they also treat you better. Lots better. That doesn't really make sense to me, but it definitely seems to be true.
The way I look at it, the worse you get treated, the more you should be paid. Busboys should be paid, I figure, about 35 bucks an hour. I know I wouldn't want to do that job for less. The same for doing hard work in bad weather. I don't think being a forest ranger is such a crappy job, but being a lumberjack sure seems to be. You have hard work, weather, sawdust, dirt, branches, and insects. That would be worth $125 an hour.
A few days ago, I mentioned here that I worked at a place in Houston where they did animal testing. In that job, I dealt with cages after the animals moved on to, er, Animal Heaven. Fortunately for me, I usually got the cages after they had been washed, but not always. I think that job paid little more than minimum wage. It just doesn't seem right.
I've been a substitute teacher. It's fun teaching little kids, but at the middle- or high-school level, you get treated as an incompetent boob by administrators, teachers, and students. They expect you to control a bunch of bratty kids, and they don't give you the power to do it. I guess I was paid a tenth of what I should have been. I quit when they decided I should pay $50 for the privilege.
I've been a highly-paid computer nerd. I was a systems programmer, a database administrator, and just about everything else in computers. Considering what they paid me, I should have been spat on and locked under the building at night. Nope. I almost never punched a time card. I reported to my boss how many hours I worked each week, and I even had one job where I could have worn shorts and a T-shirt to work, and sometimes, come in any time of day I wanted.
I guess I could spend the rest of my life wondering why life isn't fair.
Right now, if things were how I think they should be, working at McDonalds should be worth $50K a year, and dancing on Dancing With The Stars for a couple of months with those gorgeous dancers, should be worth negative $50K.
I could do with a year like that.
I used to believe that. I'm not sure, any more.
I've had high-paying jobs, and low-paying jobs. High-paying jobs are better.
This, I'm sure of. Because, when they pay you more, they also treat you better. Lots better. That doesn't really make sense to me, but it definitely seems to be true.
The way I look at it, the worse you get treated, the more you should be paid. Busboys should be paid, I figure, about 35 bucks an hour. I know I wouldn't want to do that job for less. The same for doing hard work in bad weather. I don't think being a forest ranger is such a crappy job, but being a lumberjack sure seems to be. You have hard work, weather, sawdust, dirt, branches, and insects. That would be worth $125 an hour.
A few days ago, I mentioned here that I worked at a place in Houston where they did animal testing. In that job, I dealt with cages after the animals moved on to, er, Animal Heaven. Fortunately for me, I usually got the cages after they had been washed, but not always. I think that job paid little more than minimum wage. It just doesn't seem right.
I've been a substitute teacher. It's fun teaching little kids, but at the middle- or high-school level, you get treated as an incompetent boob by administrators, teachers, and students. They expect you to control a bunch of bratty kids, and they don't give you the power to do it. I guess I was paid a tenth of what I should have been. I quit when they decided I should pay $50 for the privilege.
I've been a highly-paid computer nerd. I was a systems programmer, a database administrator, and just about everything else in computers. Considering what they paid me, I should have been spat on and locked under the building at night. Nope. I almost never punched a time card. I reported to my boss how many hours I worked each week, and I even had one job where I could have worn shorts and a T-shirt to work, and sometimes, come in any time of day I wanted.
I guess I could spend the rest of my life wondering why life isn't fair.
Right now, if things were how I think they should be, working at McDonalds should be worth $50K a year, and dancing on Dancing With The Stars for a couple of months with those gorgeous dancers, should be worth negative $50K.
I could do with a year like that.
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Boy, I just hate it when people leave unintelligible voice messages on my home phone. The land line, which doesn't have Caller ID. Yeah, I know, I hate a lot of things. Right now, though, I hate this.
Most messages, I know right away what to do with them. Some, I delete immediately. Some, I recognize the voice, and call them back when I can. The others, I actually have to understand, especially the phone number. This is when I get pissed off by people that blurt out their message as fast as they can, then hang up. Makes no sense to me. Why leave a message, if you aren't going to take the trouble to leave one I can understand? Just blow me off with no message; THAT'll teach me to not pick up.
I could even understand someone leaving a clearly-spoken, taunting message: "Hey, I'm not going to leave a message. Because of your machine, you just missed out on free money (or something like that), and YOU DON'T GET ANOTHER CHANCE!"
But, even though these calls are for me, the equivalent of a crank call, the messages that I can't understand are not left that way for a reason. The caller is simply a thoughtless dolt.
Clerks from doctors' offices seem to do this a lot. Thanks to the internet, I can track them down. My Primary Care Provider was just changed - the previous one no longer accepts my insurance - and the new guys are very eager to have me run in there and get a free checkup. I know because they called me and gave me an appointment when they first became my PCP.
When I went to get my free appointment, after I had spent a while in their nice waiting room, they wouldn't even see me, because my insurance card had the old doctor's name on it. I asked them what I would do if I couldn't wait until I got a new card. They told me to go to the emergency room. Such helpful people.
This time, they left me a message telling me that, BTW, I had a doctor's appointment the next day. I didn't know who it was - they use multiple doctor's names at this place - so I had to track down the information.
I decided to give them a taste of their own, er, medicine. I waited until after hours, then called the number, intent on leaving a half-garbled message about somebody that wasn't coming in for their hastily-scheduled appointment. As usual, I was too clever by half - they had an answering service. One of those rare moments when you actually get to talk to a human being! Not only that, a human being that isn't located in India!
Taken by surprise, I stuck to my script: "Glj;ejr;lkjgt."
"What?" they said. "I didn't understand you." Well, yes. Of course. That was my point, though it wasn't as satisfying as I had hoped.
"Could you repeat that?" they asked. I was stumped. Determined to get something, I gave them the best I could come up with, then hung up.
"Do you have Prince Albert in a can?"
Sigh. Another missed opportunity for glory.
Most messages, I know right away what to do with them. Some, I delete immediately. Some, I recognize the voice, and call them back when I can. The others, I actually have to understand, especially the phone number. This is when I get pissed off by people that blurt out their message as fast as they can, then hang up. Makes no sense to me. Why leave a message, if you aren't going to take the trouble to leave one I can understand? Just blow me off with no message; THAT'll teach me to not pick up.
I could even understand someone leaving a clearly-spoken, taunting message: "Hey, I'm not going to leave a message. Because of your machine, you just missed out on free money (or something like that), and YOU DON'T GET ANOTHER CHANCE!"
But, even though these calls are for me, the equivalent of a crank call, the messages that I can't understand are not left that way for a reason. The caller is simply a thoughtless dolt.
Clerks from doctors' offices seem to do this a lot. Thanks to the internet, I can track them down. My Primary Care Provider was just changed - the previous one no longer accepts my insurance - and the new guys are very eager to have me run in there and get a free checkup. I know because they called me and gave me an appointment when they first became my PCP.
When I went to get my free appointment, after I had spent a while in their nice waiting room, they wouldn't even see me, because my insurance card had the old doctor's name on it. I asked them what I would do if I couldn't wait until I got a new card. They told me to go to the emergency room. Such helpful people.
This time, they left me a message telling me that, BTW, I had a doctor's appointment the next day. I didn't know who it was - they use multiple doctor's names at this place - so I had to track down the information.
I decided to give them a taste of their own, er, medicine. I waited until after hours, then called the number, intent on leaving a half-garbled message about somebody that wasn't coming in for their hastily-scheduled appointment. As usual, I was too clever by half - they had an answering service. One of those rare moments when you actually get to talk to a human being! Not only that, a human being that isn't located in India!
Taken by surprise, I stuck to my script: "Glj;ejr;lkjgt."
"What?" they said. "I didn't understand you." Well, yes. Of course. That was my point, though it wasn't as satisfying as I had hoped.
"Could you repeat that?" they asked. I was stumped. Determined to get something, I gave them the best I could come up with, then hung up.
"Do you have Prince Albert in a can?"
Sigh. Another missed opportunity for glory.
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Getting Off With Murder
I see that the killer whale that drowned his trainer at SeaWorld of Orlando, Tilikum, is going back to work.
I know Barry Bonds is thinking, "Damn! I could've killed my trainer?"
I get that we hold animals to a low standard. Sometimes. I mean, if a dog or a snake kills somebody, it gets euthanized, which is a euphemism for 'executed.' I think the word is interesting; I worked at an animal lab in Houston where the animals were 'sacrificed' after being subjected to different chemicals. It seemed to me that the animals had already made a big sacrifice in being exposed to stuff that might very well harm them. If they survived that, WE were making a sacrifice? Besides, the word 'sacrifice,' calls up images of making a tribute to the gods. I guess, since we had no more use for these animals, maybe we could get the gods to give us something for killing them, which we were going to do anyhow. Maybe some rain. No, Houston has enough rain. Maybe a tax break.
I mean, it's not like we could keep these animals. I don't know how many were involved, but it was certainly more than a thousand mice, rats, and rabbits a year. OTOH, if you only have a few killer whales, and you paid lots of money to bring them to your giant aquarium, and you have thousands of people paying to come see them... well, you don't want to waste an asset like that, right?
I'm not actually in favor of putting a cap in Tilikum's ass. Like they say, killer whales will be killer whales.
RIP, trainer Dawn Brancheau.
I know Barry Bonds is thinking, "Damn! I could've killed my trainer?"
I get that we hold animals to a low standard. Sometimes. I mean, if a dog or a snake kills somebody, it gets euthanized, which is a euphemism for 'executed.' I think the word is interesting; I worked at an animal lab in Houston where the animals were 'sacrificed' after being subjected to different chemicals. It seemed to me that the animals had already made a big sacrifice in being exposed to stuff that might very well harm them. If they survived that, WE were making a sacrifice? Besides, the word 'sacrifice,' calls up images of making a tribute to the gods. I guess, since we had no more use for these animals, maybe we could get the gods to give us something for killing them, which we were going to do anyhow. Maybe some rain. No, Houston has enough rain. Maybe a tax break.
I mean, it's not like we could keep these animals. I don't know how many were involved, but it was certainly more than a thousand mice, rats, and rabbits a year. OTOH, if you only have a few killer whales, and you paid lots of money to bring them to your giant aquarium, and you have thousands of people paying to come see them... well, you don't want to waste an asset like that, right?
I'm not actually in favor of putting a cap in Tilikum's ass. Like they say, killer whales will be killer whales.
RIP, trainer Dawn Brancheau.
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