Monolithic Domes at Morehead City

In the distance, a light fixed to the arm of an industrial crane blinks to the tune of a chirping insect. The faint hum of cars that creep over the bridge into Morehead City intermingles with the rustling of reeds and the hush of the wind along the seawall. From afar, the peak of a domed storage facility is barely visible along the horizon- nearly imperceptible, a faint black silhouette amongst the shadows of the night.

Now turn on the lights. Industrial elevators and conveyor belts, which only hours before were enveloped by blackness, now shoot visibly upwards to form a supersized jungle gym. Three monolithic domes housing pre-fertilizer phosphates emerge from the tangle of metal support rods like enormous bald heads. Narrow cranes built of crisscrossing metal scrape the bottom of clouds like the tongs of forks. Exposed- the Port of Morehead City is abrasive and unharmonious, a vertical triumph against gravity. It is the antithesis of natural beauty: the mottling of manmade grays and stark beiges is rough and ugly in the midst of the glistening Newport River.

But as the covering of darkness belies the port’s vastness, the callous outline of machinery conceals a newfound conservationist undercurrent to make the facility “green.” Since 2007, the North Carolina Port Authority has been committed to becoming environmentally friendly, reducing the shipping hub’s dependence on oil and installing high-efficiency light fixtures. Tractors power to life on ultra low sulfur diesel, coughing bio-product, not petroleum, into the air. And, with the switch to biodegradable lubricants, spills are no longer toxic to the environment. The state is even looking to finance solar panel roofing on one of the 17,000 ft2 storage warehouses, which would reduce the facility’s electricity guzzling 100-fold. In all of its activities, from packaging to processing to loading, the shipping center is striving for ecological awareness.

The industrial complex is well on its way to becoming environmentally conscious, but can the Port of Morehead City ever really fit in? The waste products may become cleaner, the emissions lower, the lighting cheaper- but the harsh, uneven landscape of intercepting metal will continue to break against the horizon as a sharp reminder of human manufacturing. Cranes will still trespass against the sky. And the whitewashed concrete and bare, weather-stained storage domes will persist in evoking thoughts of mankind’s offenses against the natural world. In short, regardless of how environmentally friendly our technological masterpiece may be, a misshapen eyesore it will remain. What can we do to find harmony with the gentle hues of Nature? Well for one thing, I suggest green paint.

 

See the North Carolina Ports website for more information on the Port of Morehead City.

As much as I wail on Macs, I’d be lost without my classic white Macbook. I’ve had it now for a number of years, and I’ll be damned if I can ever find another computer that is quite as resilient. It’s had a good innings, that’s for sure. Some of it’s greatest triumphs:

  • Surviving a thorough dousing of perfume.
  • Getting splattered with cookie dough. Repeatedly.
  • Being stepped on by a very, very heavy cat.
  • Wet fingers on the trackpad. Again and again.
  • 2 powercord burn-outs. I’m talking melting wire.
  • Flour. Lots and lots of flour.
  • A hard drive reformat (by a complete novice).
  • Having a camera dropped from 2 feet onto the keyboard, resulting in a pretty colored, pixelated screen for several minutes.
  • Everything, repeat, everything being sprayed, wiped, and generally ground into the screen.

That does not even scratch the surface on the list of things this computer has withstood. I simply cannot do this sucker justice.

But all things wear out, and I am sad to report that every time my trusty Macbook awakens from slumber it emits a painful crunching, as if electrical innards are being forcibly displaced. I have taken to violently smashing the spacebar (repeatedly)- it’s the only way to get it out of hibernation (to which it ventures all-too frequently). Software updates sent to me from Apple can no longer be applied because the operating system I am running (old 10.4) is no longer supported by the newer programs. Safari crashes inexplicably. Saving pdfs is like pulling a 3-year-old’s teeth. And even running the bare minimum of applications causes overheating and a first-class wind-turbine-like commotion in its general vicinity. All-in-all, the computer is on the downward slope.

Don’t fail me baby, don’t fail me!


The Blue Crab

05Nov09

Female blue crab

The blue crab sits with appendages flexed at her sides, claws poised, hind swimming legs splayed. Her tough, brown, shell-like body is ridged with a row of short teeth; their serrated white coloring compliments the orange chelae that rest open beneath her mouthpieces. A deep azure extends outwards from the chasms of her leg joints, spreading along her stiff, segmented limbs. Two eyestalks poke through her carapace and twist through the water with intensity and purpose. Like a spring, she crouches, churning the water with her antennae, epipodites flashing wildly, hungrily.

Suddenly the crab is awakened. A wedge of flesh splashes against the surface of the water and she flies into motion like an odor-activated machine. She reaches upwards madly, claws grappling with the floating buoy of fish meat. Her parts seem disjointed yet powerful and unforgiving. Like two orange-tinted swords, her chelipeds crash against the tank, her tight suit of armor meeting the glass with a crack. Within seconds the crab skewers the meat, bringing it to her abdomen where she tears it to slivers. Then- quickly- the ragged scraps disappear into her horizontal mouthpieces; only a slight cloudiness in the water remains. A sudden stillness. Pacified, she plants herself on the ground, poised, intent.

Credit to Have Some Fun for the great photo. Find out more about blue crabs here.

Oh, look how far we've come!

The idea that animals should be treated with respect is not a new one; in fact, the first American protection law dates back to 1641 when the Massachusetts Bay Colonists established the basis for humane cattle farming (see above). The first activist group, the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, emerged after the civil war, and by 1907, every state had enacted some form of a protective statute. Since then, animal rights activists have splintered into innumerable groups and associations, each with their own unique opinion and methodology. But, while 96% of Americans agree with a degree of protection from harm and exploitation, one organization by the name of PETA consistently crosses the boundary of acceptable and appropriate.

Since its establishment in 1980, People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals has taken its proposed ideology of kindness and awareness to the extreme. Some of their most inflammatory propositions include:

  • Suggesting that a U.K. music group named Pet Shop Boys change their band’s name to Rescue Shelter Boys
  • Designing a vegetarian ad campaign to inform men about how eating meat hurts their “manhood”
  • Brainwashing children against their parents with the use of graphic and disturbing anti-fishing and anti-fur flyers

As recently as September 2008, PETA wrote a letter to Ben and Jerry’s Ice-cream in Burlington, VT proposing that the company use breast milk instead of cow’s milk to lessen animals’ suffering. Within 24 hours PETA’s blog was flooded with baffling logic and health statistics that attempted to prove that cow’s milk was the leading cause of conditions such as allergies, obesity, and heart disease. After two weeks of intense publicity, during which the activist group thoroughly reveled in the attention garnered from their “buxom beaut of an idea,” PETA continued to stoke the media’s flames; virginal baby Jesus sharks, hunting-induced impotence, or naked fur-free campaigns anyone?

With one absurd proposal after another PETA continues to generate waves of rabid controversy, planting the animal rights movement firmly in the media spotlight. Whether their extreme tactics and inflammatory claims are justified- well, that’s up to you. But judging by the fervor of their endless self-assertions, there can be no doubt that PETA enjoys all the attention. Watch out ladies, with PETA on the prowl breast-feeding women may just become the next hottest commodity.

Thanks to Complex.com’s History of PETA’s Craziest Publicity Stunts

Kings, according to Wikipedia, is “common among college students in the United States.” For once, Wikipedia isn’t being a lying sack of crap; Kings really is popular with the drinking kind. And if you’re wondering what the hell I’m talking about, please, go sit in the corner while I marvel at your blasphemy.

In Kings, cards are shuffled and arranged in a circle, usually around a can of beer. Players take turns choosing a card at random. Depending on what is drawn, different mini games are played. For example, if a 6 is pulled, all the “chicks” drink. If a 9 is chosen, the player says a word, then the players go round in a circle saying words that rhyme with that word. Anyone unable to come up with an original rhyme, drinks. One full set of rules can be found here. But, like the best games, Kings comes with variations. Everyone plays it a little differently; different cards mean different things to different dorms, frats, or entire campuses. Make up your own rules- and get drinking!


Alton Brown rocks. Why don’t more people love his show?


You’re a freshman in college. You’re at a party with guys and somehow the drunken conversation turns to Star Wars (if you are thinking that this is an unlikely situation, then you clearly have never been to a college party). At this point, 3/4 of the room will begin trash-talking episodes 1, 2, and 3, saying how stupid Jar-Jar is and wondering at what type of crack George-y boy was smoking when he wrote the dialog. The minority will become enraged at such disloyalty- screaming will ensue. Finally, a mediator will emerge to stymie the argument. His point? “Has anyone seen that Star Wars Robot Chicken episode? That shit is funny.” Then someone else will pipe up “WHAT THE HELL IS AN ALUMINUM FALCON!?!?!” The entire crowd will laugh, and you, my dear unenlightened freshman, will have no idea what is going on.

Let me prevent your pain. Go here and watch the Robot Chicken episode. Great fun, although it does help to be a Star Wars fan. I’ll save your sorry ass the next time someone says “Vader! How’s my favorite sith?”


snails

21Sep09
Fasciolaria tulipa (Tulip Snail)

Fasciolaria tulipa (Tulip Snail)

I’ve been working with snails. Lots and lots of snails. They are so beautiful that I need to share the stills I’ve taken recently. To determine if a snail is right or left-handed, point the spire away from you (aperture towards you). Whichever side the aperture is on is the handedness (or chirality) of the snail. Enjoy.

Pleuroploca giganta, right-handed

Pleuroploca gigantea (Horse Conch), right-handed

Busycon perversum, left-handed

Busycon perversum (Lightning Whelk), left-handed

Ilyanassa obsoleta, right-handed

Ilyanassa obsoleta (Mud Snail), right-handed

Fasciolaria tulipa, right-handed

Fasciolaria tulipa (Tulip Snail), right-handed

Fasciolaria tulipa (Tulip Snail)

Fasciolaria tulipa (Tulip Snail)


life:falling

21Sep09

Written last year.


wal-mart joke

20Sep09

A Wal-Mart store was going through their exclusively competitive job app process. The manager narrowed down the applicants to 4 men, each equally qualified. As the final part of the process, he brings them one by one into the interview room for final questioning.

The first man walks in and the manager asks, “What’s the fastest thing you can think of?” The applicant ponders this for a moment and replies, “Thought. Yeah, thinking is fast.” The manager agrees.

The next man enters and when asked the same question replies, “A blink. Blinking happens and you don’t even realize you did it. It must be fast.”

The third man comes in and the manager asks him, “What’s the fastest thing you know of?” To this, the applicant replies, “Light. You turn on a light-switch and before you know it, POOF! The light is on.” The manager agrees, nothing is faster than light.

Finally, Bubba walks in. “What’s the fastest thing you can think of?” Bubba thinks for a long time. Then, just when the manager was worried that Bubba wouldn’t be able to think of anything, he says “Diarrhea.” “Diarrhea!?!?” the manager says, stunned.

“Yeah, I wasn’t feeling so good the other day, and I ran to the bathroom. But before I could think, blink, or turn on the light, I had shit my pants!”

Bubba is now the welcome salesman at a local Wal-Mart near you!