Fire Fire Everywhere

I know that it is not safe to snap camera phone pictures while driving 80 m.p.h., as I tend to do, but the fires just west of downtown Phoenix are so startling and surreal that I couldn't resist. Each day I drive the SR51, or Piestewa Peak Freeway, to and from work in North Scottsdale. As you come around the mountain pass heading south, heading home, it appears as though downtown Phoenix is under a churning mushroom cloud of cinder. It's really just west of downtown, in an uninhabited low forest area of desert on the Reservation, but the optical illusion from the freeway is disconcerting and leaves the imagination to it's work. The first day of the fires I literally dropped my phone in the middle of a call, in stunned silence, as many seemed to be doing as they set eyes on this wildfire for the first time. Traffic slowed, and you could see people scrambling to adjust their radio dials to a news channel. Since then, the fire has waged on, sometimes allowed to by the firefighters, who have had trouble accessing the fire due to it's remote setting. Friends of mine who live south of downtown have reported sore throats and coughs, along with the constant smell of burning wood in the past several days. I can only attest that my neighborhood has occassionally been dusted with falling ash, when the wind shifts to the east. My biggest inconvenience being that I drive a black car, which needs to be washed even moreso now that the ash and dust layer are thicker. Luckily, no houses or businesses are in the way of this fire - for now. I wonder how long it will burn untouched by humans, before nature takes it's course.

In other news....

Former skydiving champ plunges to his death

Jun. 23, 2008 06:50 AM
Associated Press

LAKE ELSINORE, Calif. - A former national champion skydiver has died after his parachute failed to open during a weekend accident at Lake Elsinore in Riverside County, Calif.

Richard Alvin Schindler, an off-duty Riverside County sheriff's deputy, died Saturday. The 39-year-old had a back-up parachute, but there was no indication it had been deployed.

A Marine Corps veteran, Schindler began skydiving 15 years ago and had been working part-time at SkyDive Elsinore as an instructor.

At the 2005 U.S. National Skydiving Championships, Schindler was part of the Elsinore Equinox team that finished in first place in the four-way intermediate freestyle competition.

When asked about the tragic events, Wanda Pilsner, friend of the victim responded,

"BIG FUCKING SURPRISE, huh?"

Sorry, I couldn't resist. This was on the front page of the Arizona Republic today, and stories like this make me crazy!
I know I'm going to hell, but at least I'll know how to dress when I get there.

Now he'll finally have his answer!

Today George Carlin will finally get his answer. He'll finally know if his theory on life in this great society of ours was closer to truth, or merely a brilliantly genius take.
I wonder which of the seven words you can say in Heaven?

Thank you, Mr. Russert. You will be missed.

I am normally not one to jump on the celebrity pumping band wagon or self congratulatory and aggrandizing capitalization off of others misery, but I would be remiss if I did not say a word about Tim Russert's passing today.
It was a shock. It just doesn't seem like in this day and age we think about middle aged men dropping dead of a heart attack at work. Maybe in 1976, but not today.
It is saddening. I am sad for his family and friends, but I know that the biggest loss that will be felt far into the future is the loss of his integrity and ethics in the profession of journalism. He is one of the last great journalists that graced us with their wisdom, insight, forthright honesty and candor in the face of great, powerful, and wealthy men and women. He was someone that we could trust to stand up for the rest of us when he interviewed presidents, world leaders, shamed senators and candidates for higher office. He was one we could count on to call 'bullshit' when someone was blowing air up our asses.
I had the luck to meet him once, at a work function. He spoke at our dinner and gave us all signed copies of his latest book. During his speech he began talking about the special connections that he's made over the years, with hundreds and probably thousands of people who have shared his passion for honoring their parents, as he did in his books. He got choked up when he started talking about his father, and the occassion when his father publicly began praising him for being such a wonderful son. He made everyone in that room wish that they could run to their fathers that night and hug them and tell them how much they meant to us. It is that intangible way of making you want to be a better person, despite all the heaping crap life throws your way, that made Tim Russert a great man.
We should all try, in his name, to be a little better to each other from now on, since we can no longer count on his earthly prodding.

Another sunny hot day in the desert

What I wouldn't give for a good ol' fashioned midwestern thunderstorm today. Hot, sticky, then a sharp breeze. Then that sharp breeze is followed up by a deeper, harder wind that sweeps across the yard, bending a few branches and sending up some scattered leaves. Sprinkles first, then the patter. Then sharp raps on the windows, as giant drops are propelled by the coming winds. Thunder, shallow and wilting at first, then crashing in a short hard burst, like a megaton bowling ball dropped haphazardly on the floor. As the rain picks up, the lightening becomes brighter, more frequent, more strobe. The storm presses on your four walls.
And when the storm is at it's peak - the full tilt boogey of crashing clouds, creaking rafters, the weight of mother nature baring down on your house - you forget all your problems. No work matters, no lonely, suffocating long term relationships. No bills, and no family squabbles. Just his storm. Reminding you that your life is insignificant to what mother nature can do in two hours.
I can't wait to one day get back to the midwest for a good ol' fashioned thunderstorm. I miss it.