(Globe and Anchor CEO Herley, preparing for mission insertion).
OK- I was doing my part in the Ground Game this morning, and drove a pal to the absentee-in-person Early Voting polling station near the Courthouse Metro stop on the Orange Line. That seemed more important than the Daily Story, which had the editorial bullpen in an uproar. They were a little cranky anyway, due to their having stayed up until the Cubs sewed that one up late and escaped from the Mistake By the Lake with one win and one loss.
I am all in for this Series, since something historic is going to happen, regardless of who wins it all. But my son used to live in Wrigleyville in the Windy City, and I would dearly love to see the Cubbies get their first World Series since 1908.
So there was that, and some of the editorial staff had their stingy-brim hipster hats pushed back on their heads and were lighting their eighth or ninth Marlboros of the day when I headed out to see the Physical Therapy people this morning, which turned into some good news and bad news (I am gaining some balance but will have to do something that looks suspiciously like yoga regularly to keep it that way).
Which of course cascaded into the Ground Game support to friends who wanted to vote early and consider the whole sordid mess of the election to be in the rear view of what Jack Kerouac called “America’s shiny car in the night.
When I got back to the casa, I discovered the editors had done exactly jack-squat while I was gone, and the office bottle was on the desk in between two of them, and the bull-pen was a cloud of second hand smoke. I threw the worthless lot out, telling them to go to The Front Page where they could buy their own damn drinks and I could air out the offices.
Which led me direct to the other matter at hand, which is the damned Turkey Buzzards at the farm. In fact, what got me thinking about that was how much the editors actually look like Edgar the Buzzard, all dark clothed and beady eyes, and that led directly to a search for vermin exorcists down in Culpeper County, which is not quite as easy as you might think.
There turned out to be three companies who specialize in pest control, and I talked to two of them that would pick up the phone. One nice lady reminded me that the plug-ugly birds are protected by the Migratory Species Act, which I acknowledged, but told her was not the problem since Edgar and Edwina are not migrating anywhere, but sitting on my fence-posts and pooping a vile white substance all over.
The second company looked promising: the name of the outfit was Globe & Anchor pest mitigation. I had a suspicion this was going to be a veteran-owned business and I poked the numbers in the phone and mashed the ‘xmit’ icon on the screen.
“Globe and Anchor,” said the voice when the call went through.
“Are you a former Marine?” I asked. “One of the Old Breed?”
“No, sorry. There is no such thing as a former Marine,” he replied. “I am a retired Marine and this is my company.”
“I like your style,” I replied. “And I knew that. I would rather deal with a Veteran-owned business any time, particularly a Marine-owned company.”
We exchanged pleasantries and expressed thanks for each other’s service (shouldn’t we really just do that on Veteran’s Day?) and I explained my problem with the pooping roosting buzzards, and that I supported the Migratory Species Act, and had refrained from producing a pistol as part of my negotiating position with Edgar.
Herley- that is the name of the Marine who owns the company- said he had a couple strategies that could mitigate the desire for Edgar to perch on my fence or worse on my deck, looking balefully at me from that scrawny necks and producing more bird crap.
I was disappointed that none of the prospective solutions involved high explosives or man-portable rocket-launchers, but I invited Herley to come by the farm, take a look at the tactical situation on the ground, and see what kind of gentle discouragements we could present for Edgar’s consideration.
I have not had a chance to talk to Edgar since last Sunday to get his input. I do not think it is fair to not let all the stake-holders in this rodeo know what is what.
But just for the record, and as a demonstration of resolve, I have sent in the Marines.
Copyright 2016 Vic Socotra
www.vicsocotra.com