From Beneath the Carolina Moon

May all the Irish blessings come true for you in the coming year, except for the one of being in heaven a half hour before the devil knows you're dead.

2008 promises to be one of the most unique years ever, especially here, beneath the Carolina moon!

Until then,

Dread

Yes, it's Christmas in Dixie, but it seems, no matter what, the mood just hasn't struck me. I don't have that Christmas sparkle, that tingle, or Christmasy feeling. I don't detect it in many places either. Maybe its the weather. It's been too warm here for too long. Maybe its because there seems to be more tension in the world than normal. Maybe everyone is afraid that the big rubber-band is about to pop.

I don't know. It's Christmas. Well, almost. There's still time for hope, and I guess that's part of what Christmas is about. Hope.

Traveling

Took a little trip across the Savannah, and came across this interesting edifice. There's a particular feature above the steps leading to the front entrance door that caught my eye. I understand that the same creep that wrote The Da Vinci Code, which was admitted fiction, is now burning a hole in Washington DC and something of George Washington's affiliation with the fraternity of which the former owner of this home was also. Me thinks that would require more history than even a fiction writer can compile into one book. A history that goes back over 275 years, just here beneath the Carolina moon, is a history many times older than the nation itself.

Click the pic for the really large view.

Happy World Toilet Day

Insert your own off color pun here.

Yes Virginia there's a holiday for everything!

Another Inverse Lesson in Being Southern

The gentleman sitting in the center is not; a gentleman, nor is he a southerner. Given his smirk, my best guess is Californicator or Damnyankee. But, those are just my guesses. I suppose he could be a French Canadian. He's definitely not French. He isn't inhaling deeply enough to be French.

We know these things, here beneath the Carolina moon. I'm not going to explain how. Just take my word for it. We know.

Now back to our regularly scheduled program

It's Hog Killin' Weather!

In the rural south, that means the weather is cold enough to keep the meat chilled while you butcher the hog. When I was a kid growing up in the country, that was an exciting day with a lot of hard work, but looked forward to. Hams and side meat were salted and hung, fat rendered for lard to cook with for another year, and saussage and liver mush ground and packaged. If you were one of those families with a smoke house, there might be some hams, shoulder, and side meat that was smoked to put away for special occasions. You knew that cracklin cornbread would be on the table for the next few days, and that was a real treat.

Today, I don't know anyone who still raises and dresses out their own hogs. I'm sure there are still a few people who do, but not in numbers like when I was a boy. I miss that home made saussage and country salted/smoked ham too. My cholesterol is healthy, but I sure miss the big fluffy biscuits with the products of the hog.

Okay. Truthfully, I do splurge on a saussage and egg biscuit a couple of times a year. And, sometimes I even eat a buiscuit at Christmas with a piece of country ham in it. But, that's it. I don't eat cracklin cornbread at all now. I don't eat cornbread at all now. Nobody knows how to cook cornbread anymore that won't choke you.

I'll warn you ahead. If you come to the south and visit a restaurant for real southern cookin', then skip the cornbread. I doubt it's anything like what was once real cornbread. And greenbeans out of a can, swimming in grease aren't "southern" either, and besides they proabably will serve whipped margarine instead of real butter with it and that's just gross.

Anyway. The weather finally has cooled. It's a month late, and I'm not complaining, except for the bugs we had unti now, like mosquitos, wasps, jellowjackets etc. Now, you'll get to read my gripes about cold weather for another 4 months. Aren't you thrilled?

Posted by Dread, who also remembers pulling peanuts and boiling them at this time of year, only usually you also took into consideration the moon phase; at least we did here, beneath the Carolina moon.

Two Wrongs Don't Make a Right but Uglies Can Become Beautiful

No. Two wrongs can't make a right, but uglies can make for beauty, except in the case of the Clintons which generally proves if you take two halves of two uglies, you only get another ugly.

Last week William Jackass Clinton came to town, to campaign for the witch that pulls his puppet strings. That was really ugly. Then he left. That was beautiful.

Now, the dog above is ugly. The doggie bowel is also ugly. But, the statement he is inadvertently making; BEAUTIFUL.

It's November and we haven't even had a killing frost here yet, to knock back the insect activity. That's ugly. But, this afternoon the Divine Miss N and I toured around the lower mountains near Chimney Rock, and found that the autumn leaf colors, which usually would be gone by now, were still in full abound. That was beautiful, and so is she.

If you leave out the Clintons, which are ugly; and insects, which are ugly, and politics, which are ugly, life is good, and beautiful.

Miss N and I forgot to take the digi-cam with us this afternoon, so here's an autumn cuteness shot to make up for lost leaf beauty.

Posted by Dread who needs to relocate the justice for the alphabet.

Air Force One Under Clinton Act Two

I couldn't resist. It's too hard to improve on the truth, even beneath the Carolina moon.

Posted by Dread who just shakes his head.

Three Things Southern and Beautiful

Taking a cue from Clare, who writes Three Beautiful Things, (and is linked over there --->) today we have three things southern and beautiful.

First, I awoke this morning and stumbled to the kitchen to prepare coffe and soil the first dish of the day. It's customary here to leave a clean kitchen before retiring for the evening.

Secondly, I have added a mercinary link in the sidebar to Amazon, that from henceforth will feature products very much relevant to and from the south. Today an out of print, very much in demand, and hard to find southern cook book is featured. I've seen these on ebay go for $200 to $300, so the price is fantastic.

Thirdly and best of all, you read it here first. Palmetto Sweetheart, also a link over there ---->, and her hubby are now (finally!) the proud parents of another son of the south. Yes! It's a boy!

Zippity do dah!

Posted by Dread who at first lost the stork graphic for today's post, then later, much later, finally found it.

alphabet justice: a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z

Cheap Shot

Okay, the above has nothing to do with ability. But say it did. Would it be any different? Hunger for power, and for all the wrong reasons, as if a right reason could be found, is an ugly thing. But then, it is the season of witches, erh? I can just see it now; years from now, Boy Scouts telling scary stories around the campfire, an one starts in about the time a witch named Hillary tried to fool the American people into electing her Empress of the Universe.

Personally, I think she WANTS to be called MR. PRESIDENT. But to me, she'll always just be, WITCH! I promised I would keep something against Hillary on the front page of this blog, until she is no way in the race for President, and I will, whether or not its a cheap shot. I figure a cheap shot is better than no shot. After all, truth, justice, the American way of life and freedom itself is at risk.

Posted by Dread, who's glad Hillary came through Arkansas, and not from beneath the Carolina moon.

alphabet justice: a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z

A Lesson (a nice "L" word) in Not Being Southern

Johnny Lee and Bobby Ray being good little southern boys would never do this. They know that if they even thought it, their Momma's eyes in the back of her head would see their thoughts and their own little butts would be glowing red if they had any butt at all left.

What they don't know, and probably never will, is that Dad would like to take them to the corner store and buy them an ice cream for bravely and boldly stating the truth. Dad, however much admiration for bravery he has, isn't stupidly brave himself though, and is most likely to just stay away from the whole incident. There is a high probability all these thoughts will cross his mind while he is hosing off the walk, but then they will quickly fade.

For little yankee children, this is a good lesson in the unfairness of the world and how the truth isn't always supported with justice. For southern children, it just never happens; period. They know better from birth, and for the ones that don't, we have memorials.

And that's today's lesson, inversely taught perhaps, in not being southern. You don't have to be Judith Martin to teach and learn common manners, not here, beneath the Carolina moon.

Posted by Dread, who all in all has had a good week.

alphabet justice: a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z

A Rose by Just Any Other Name, Wouldn't Be Naughty

Sometime over the past two or three days, the Divine Miss N and I were watching some odd something nor other on the soon to be defunct, non-digital television, when a fast moving choppy pictured ad came on for, actually I forget, either Dollywood or Pidgeon Forge. I'm not sure there's really any difference, but that's somebody else's beef to blog about. In this flickering fandango of advertising, flashed a view of Dolly Parton herself in a flaming, red-orange, dress. "Wow! Did you see those two big ol'e, orange pumpkins?", I asked Miss N. She took the comment good humoredly, probably because with all the flickering, choppy, picture shuffling of the commercial, there just might have been a couple of big ol'e orange pumpkins. Who could say?
So, it was ironic that when browsing through a rose collection a day later, I came across this big ol'e, flaming, red-orange rose, and lo and behold, it's name is Dolly Parton. Sometime soon, I'll repost my philosophical meandering about the irony of abundance. In short, where there is abundance, there is irony. None lost here, beneath the Carolina moon.

Posted by Dread who has more than his share of irony in his life, and abundance, of course. Here in the south, we are blessed.

alphabet justice: a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z

Naughty and Defiant; Good "N" and "D" Words

The last few weeks there was a lot of controversy about a tee shirt with the above pic on the front. It was even removed from the shelves and is no longer for sale. Well the naughty and defiant side of me says, "Screw that!". Do we still have free speech in this country? Does the truth sting the powers that be? What the heck?

Last weekender the Divine Miss N and I were cruising around the Blue Ridge Parkway and some discussion of our heritage and the way this shirt was being reacted to came up. We agreed that "Homeland Security" has been an issue for Native Americans since 1492, or earlier according to which version of history you buy into. So what's wrong with people selling the shirt that states the truth? Can anyone tell me? Personally, if I could get a large graphic made of this I would hang the poster in my office and have a shirt made and a jacket and anything else I could find to plaster it on.

Why do you think there is a Western and an Eastern band of Cherokee? Because the homeland was secure? I could go on and on, and usually do, but I'll stop here so as it doesn't get nasty. For now, defiance is enough, even here beneath the Carolina moon.

Posted by Dread who has been very very busy lately and absent from the interweb.

alphabet justice: a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z

The Bare Truth (A "T" Word)

This was the original artwork from which this blog logo was gleaned. I came up with it some years ago and actually passed it on to a friend to use as her private avatar. For the blog, I resurrected the graphic and cleaned up, or clouded up, the actual mooning part that the Beneath is beneath.

My second thoughts are, maybe I should have left the mooning part. But then, I might have to change the blog name to Beneath the Mooning Carolina instead of... well that sort of changes the whole perspective of the blog, or would... so. Maybe just leave well enough alone?

Maybe I shouldn't have shared this. Some secrets are better left as secrets. But then, some secrets are just too good to not share. I'll get to a few of those in due time. All in due time. Everything has its season, here beneath the Carolina moon.

Posted by Dread who enjoys a naughty edge to life, just so long as its not pushed beyond naughty.


Naughty is that twilight between nice and nasty, where people blush, but don't as yet feel compelled to complain.



alphabet justice: a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z

A Red Tail Raptor

I caught this majestic bird that sometimes soars at over 3,000 feet in altitude, coming to rest on a flag pole in the middle of a cemetery. I was on my way home from work when I spotted the huge Red Tail Hawk gliding to this perch. I pulled the car into the cemetery drive, parked directly beneath the flag pole, and took a few shots. He/she kept turning his/her head (hard to tell with this species) but I finally managed to get this classic shot. A magic moment in a magic place; beneath the Carolina moon.

Posted by Dread, who has been busy and a bit distracted.

Oops! (An “O” Word) I’ve Jumped the Track!

Oops! I’ve jumped the track and must get back on! This blog, or whatever your particular cultural flavor prefers to call it, began as having the south or rather THE SOUTH as its focus, or things southern, and particularly those things of the Carolinas (thus the blog name). On occasion it would stray off course to a point of interest; a perfectly acceptable practice, as long as it wasn’t too far and made a hasty return to the main subject. However, I’m afraid that I’ve strayed perhaps a bit too far. And, therefore, having recognized such straying, as in more or less completely jumping the track, I now herewith and with all sincerity, and other such bull malarkey, promise to hastily get back on track. (Hah! we wiped the smile off that train engine!)

One more however, however. HOWEVER, from the get go, I have made no beans about being a dedicated opponent of the Clintons, or anyone kin to them, or even wishing they were kin to them, such as the Clintonistas of New York (Obvious imbeciles!) therefore, any and every reader of this blog may, from now, or actually before now, anticipate that there will always be at least one post appearing on the front page of this blog that is Clinton resistant, until there are no Clintons nor Clintonistas running for public office. There my be other political commentary also from time to time, but I do pledge to get back to the main thrust of this blog, focusing on things southern, and particularly things Carolina.

In fact, I just watched an old movie Sunday evening that reminded me of several major southern, Carolina in particular, facts, subjects, and cultural eccentricities that I should be discussing here. Or for those of you who hail from places unsouthern, perhaps for your edification, my disseminations shall be of useful or entertaining value. I know more than one story of a damnyankee whose life was spared as a direct result of their clever and timely remembrance of some minor southern trivia. You see, here beneath the Carolina moon, even trivia is no trivial matter, and a gentleman’s word is his honor, and... oh nevermind.

A few of those stories will appear here sooner or later. For now, I’ve babbled on enough for one day and a single post. Next post, will be back on track, and maybe with a different train. Yah know, I still don’t remember reading that book as a kid. Must have been after my time. Train named Thomas? Nah. Don’t remember’im.

Posted by Dread who never leapt a tall building, but once rode a powerful locomotive, and has since, never been the same.

alphabet justice: a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z

Unpaid (a "U" Word) Political Commentary

This is for all the Hillacare supporters. This is not an endorsement of any political candidate. I happen to think that all politicians suck. Some of them are just dangerous while some of them are more entertaining than others. I consider Hillary to be on the dangerous side of the field and Fred to be on the entertaining side. Enjoy!

Posted by Dread who is still giggling.

alphabet justice: (doesn't seem to work with YOU TUBE but will return with the next post)

Letter - An "L" Word

I've not been up to posting lately, and September 11 came and went without a mention here from me (or any other post). So, today I catch up a bit, even though I'm not back up to speed. I'm re-posting a letter that I posted somewhere on one of my, then existing, web pages, just after the atrocity of September 11, 2001.

An Open Letter to the Would Be Terroists of the World

Dear Would Be Terrorist:

Last week you struck out at the United States of America. Through some unimaginable twisted perversion of your souls, you may have deemed your actions as having struck a mighty blow of oppression and terror upon the great satan. If that is the case, then you are as badly mistaken as you are psychologically twisted and spiritually perverted.

Your actions did not oppress and did not terrorize the people of the United States of America. The senseless murder of our people and destruction of a few of our buildings only managed to draw back the veil from the true face of our great nation. And now the world sees clearly that which it could only see dimly before.

The world sees a people bound together under the Fatherhood of God and the brotherhood of man. The world sees a nation where there is freedom for all, not because our leaders allow it, but because each and every individual is determined in their heart to be free, and to promote freedom for each other. It is literally impossible to ever truly oppress or terrorize such a people. And the world sees that more clearly now than ever before.

Now that the veil is lifted, the world sees that the great truths upon which our nation was founded are immortal and as vibrant today, as when our founding fathers first set them to written word. Had you studied our history, you would have seen in the very first official document of our nation, even as we were forming as a nation, that we pledged to the cause of freedom, "our lives and our fortunes, to each other."

Today pictures are televised around the world of our citizenry putting their lives on the line for each other, and giving freely of their worldly wealth, to aid and assist each other. The world does not see a greed driven satan as you postulate, but rather an unoppressed people, united for their common good, and the common good of all people.

While the smoke still rose from your cowardly deeds, our nation was committing publicly and privately to not only protecting our freedom, but also the freedom of all of the earth's inhabitants whose hearts cry out with each beat, "Live free or die free!" That is the level of our commitment to freedom. That is the face of freedom. That is the face you revealed when you lifted the veil. Your objective was not obtained, and your mission failed. Freedom lives. Freedom thrives. Freedom cries out from every American heart!

Your twisted madness lays as an open book for all sane people of the world to view. You have tried to oppress that which can not be oppressed. You have treid to terrorize those that do not recognize terror. You have set out to physically destroy that which is spiritual in nature. The futility of your purpose is self evident. The evidence of your complete insanity is only exceeded by the evidence of your spiritual perversion.

The holy trinity of failth, hope, and love is recognized by the religions of time. Faith manefests itself by that indwelling spirit, that portion of the divine that imparts life to us. Hope is the glimpse of eternal essence of divinity which is imparted to us by Jesus of Nazareth, and the wise of the ages. Love is the only manner by which we can conceptualize the grand design of the universe and it's Omnipotent Architect, and bind our own soul to wholeness.

The religions of time recognize divinity by many names. Jah, Providence, and God are but a few. But divinity has always been defined by it's essence. No, matter the language, in English, it translates to three simple words. "GOD IS LOVE." To claim that Love is manifested in acts of hate, or even in apathy, is the most complete perversion of religion imaginable to the human mind.

Would be terrorits, religious zealots that you dreamed to be, you have become that which you fear most. You have become beasts of burden to satan, slaves to evil, a mockery of divine creation. May The Omnipotent Creator have mercy on your soul. The evil that possesses you most certainly will not.

And, as you pass into that dark night, where death's angel will hold you in her cold grip, remember this fact. You neither oppressed nor terrorized me nor any other American. Your actions have strengthened our resolve to remain a free people, and have renewed our commitment to amplify the voice of freedom, so that it may be heard around the world. Our reliance on divine strength and love will bring us through this and any other tragedy.

And, now the world is listening with hungry ears for that ring of freedom's bell, looking with eager eyes upon the strength that freedom builds, and yearning with open hearts to lift up their souls and soar upon the warm breath of freedom's whisper. The light of freedom still burns brightly. "One nation, under God, with liberty and justice for all.", will stand!

Sincerely

Dread
Common Citizen of and Uncommon Nation, The United States of America

alphabet justice: a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z

A Sundy Cruise (a "C" Word) with a Message

The Divine Miss N, the Albino HMS Monkey, and I went for a cruise Sunday afternoon to watch the hot air baloons launch near Anderson. It was quiet a sight, and we had a really good meal at Carson's. Cruising back, the monkey started hooting and having a fit. We pulled over to the side of the road, figuring she needed to make a pit stop. But upon letting her out of the car she promptly scampered up a nearby signpost and started pointing and waving. Miss N picked up on what the monkey was trying to point out right away, and jumped out to take this picture. It took me a bit longer, and even longer to coach the silly monkey to climb back down.

Finally, the promise of a Starbucks mocha frappachino, putting her pic here, and letting her borrow the digi camera convinced the monkey to come down. I have to give it to the little booger. She took a decent pic of these guinea fowl that were grazing grass seed heads along the side of the road. I wonder who they belong to. I hadn't seen any of these in years.

Posted by Dread for the Divine Miss N and the Albino HMS Monkey.

alphabet justice: a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z

Picking and Grinning? (a "G" Word)

She's a pickin' but will she be a grinnin' come election day?

LET'S HOPE NOT!

Posted by Dread, who so far this election season, only has candidates to vote against.

alphabet justice: a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z

Bridging the Past (a "P" Word) to the Future

This pic was taken on a recent Sunday afternoon outing by the Divine Miss N. It's the Poinsett Bridge that spans Little Gap Creek in northern Greenville County (SC). The bridge was commissioned by Joel Poinsett, who himself, could be the subject of a post. Yes, the Poinsettia flower has a connection, but not to the bridge, except for Joel Poinsett for whom it is named; the bridge, and the flower.

If that hasn't confused you enough, the bridge, which was completed in 1820, was along the road that once connected Charleston with the Blue Ridge Mountains. Today that road is pretty much abandoned and the bridge only connects to the other side of the creek, and the past. The road never really was paved anyway, so it really doesn't matter much I suppose. To give you some sense of its proportion, it may help to know that the opening of the Gothic arch is fourteen feet high.

It does seem strange today to have such an ornate bridge that only crosses a creek and hasn't a road with it to anywhere. Although the records are sketchy, it is presumed and agreed to by most Carolina historians that Robert Mills, the famous architect, designed the unique bridge. The bridge served its purpose and portaged progress across its stone bed, until progress left it behind. Now it serves as a monument to man’s ingenuity and as a remaining work of art; a reminder that both form and function should be present when we set out to rearrange God's creation.

I thought of this yesterday evening while boping down I-85, which is crossed by a mammoth bridge every few miles. We mostly build damn ugly bridges these days. They bridge to our future. The Poinsett bridge, bridges to our past. And, what does that say?

Posted by Dread who is still pondering all of this.

alphabet justice: a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z

A Spot of Heaven; an "H" Word

I was a bit negative on Savannah. Hey! I call'em the way I see'em. Every city puts off vibes and has a general respect, or a degree of a lack thereof, for individuals; for people in general. I have a sense for those things, and found Savannah lacking. Charleston, on the other hand, exudes respect.

For sure Charleston has it's dark places, and some very dark history. But, it is a city that while respecting its past, doesn't live in it, and goes beyond respect of people to actually honor people and life. Its a good place with good vibes.

The picture above is one I took a few years back while visiting Charleston in the spring. Its one of my favorite small spots in the city, and a friendly, peaceful place to take a few minutes to relax, have a cool drink and just mellow out beneath the Carolina moon.

I do have a question. What do you call a place like this? A portico? A grotto? What? I bet there are places exactly like this in heaven.

Posted by Dread, who will be an office prisoner most of today, and wishes he had a small spot like this locally for sanctuary.

alphabet justice: a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z

Rolling on the River (double "R" words)

This is the Georgia Queen, a fake paddlewheeler at berth on River Street, just behind the city hall of Savannah, Georgia. It similarly sums up my opinion of the whole district. A run down, overpriced fake. If you want living history and a decent, not so seedy, city of historical significance, try Charleston South Carolina.

Below is a picture of Savannah's River Street, supposedly cobbled with ballast stones, just next door to the Hyatt. In fact, this picture was taken just as I stepped off the Hyatt's elevator. I rest my case. Histerical... oops I mean historical, preservation at it's worst. This is a creepy place. A city with tons of dark secrets; and some not so secret darknesses.

That whole book, "Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil"? What a farce! If this city gave over its secrets so easily to a damnyankee stranger just blowing through town, it wouldn't have any left. He had the wool pulled over his eyes with smoke and mirrors, a song and a dance. What a shill! And what shills were they that bought into his speil! And the beat goes on. Idiots today still go there for touring, all because of that farce of a book. And what do they find? Just what they deserve. A farce of a city!

Rolling on the River... double "R's" double vision. Those who can see, from the other side of the river, know. Those who live on that side of the river, know. There's a dark side of the moon and a dark side of the river. I'm glad I live on the side I do, here beneath the Carolina Moon.

Posted by Dread, who's headed to bed, and glad to be back on the east side.

alphabet justice: a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z

Sunset over Savannah on the Savannah; all nice "S" words

This past week I spent three days in Savannah Georgia on bidniz. One of the businesses sponsored a dinner cuise on a river boat down the Savannah River and back. I took this pic on the way back. I watched the dolphins play around the bow of the paddlewheeler and remembered my boyhood days fishing on the banks of this river with my grandfather. That was way back upriver though, and way back upriver in time. This sunset was Monday, August 20, 2007.

To the right of the picture is the South Carolina bank. To the left is the Georgia bank. To be homest, I prefer the Carolina side. It's there that you find yourself beneath the Carolina moon.

Posted by Dread, who's in urgent need of a Sunday afternoon nap.

alphabet justice: a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z

Age, That Horrible "A" Word

This guy (the one on the far right) could play George Clooney's dad in a movie, or in real life for that matter. I was searching for a pic to illustrate this post, when I was struck by the eerie likeness. George this is what you have to look forward to.

The reason I was searching for an old wrinkled guy pic was the discussion Doug Thompson started on Blue Ridge Muse (link located over there --->) under his rants listing, about how he knows he's in trouble when he hears the phrase "for your age". He was lamenting a doctor's visit and was told you are recovering well for someone your age, or "for your age." So I left Doug a little comment, and thought maybe it worthy of repeating here.

Bette Davis said, "Old age isn't for sissies!" What an understatement! You and I are the same age. (Doug and I are) I am well preserved for my age. But there again, "for my age" kicks me in the teeth.

I felt I was getting old the first time a polite kid referred to me as "sir". And, I was a bit incensed. Now, I’ve long ago become accustomed to “sir”, but "for your age", the backhand of a compliment, shadows me.

I've adopted a quote from a lady who, now passed on, was ancient when I first met her, and horribly crippled with arthritis. When asked how she was doing, she would always reply, "I'm doing fine for the shape I'm in!"

I guess that's about the best any of us can hope for. We all age, if we're fortunate, even here beneath the Carolina moon. It's hard to believe isn't it? Then again, we're all probably doing fine for the shape we're in.

Posted by Dread who hardly pays attention to joint popping noises, and gets a chuckle out of other people's reaction to them.

alphabet justice: a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z

Let's All Get Mad! (an "M" word)

The following is an unpaid, unpolitical, announcement.





How is the next commander-in-chief going to fight the number one killer of Americans under 85?

Dear Friends,
I am no longer content to let the cancer question go unanswered. It is possible to stop this disease, but we are not making it a priority or applying the resources needed to stop cancer from killing 560,000 people each year.

That is why the Lance Armstrong Foundation is hosting the first-ever LIVESTRONG Presidential Cancer Forum to make sure our next President knows that Americans across the country expect cancer to be a national priority.

Sign the LIVESTRONG Army petition today to show all presidential candidates that they must make the fight against cancer a priority of their administration.

The LIVESTRONG Presidential Cancer Forum offers a unique opportunity to make cancer part of the national dialogue by asking the presidential candidates to go on the record with their plans to fight the disease. The Forum will be co-hosted by MSNBC’s Chris Matthews and me on August 27 and 28, in Cedar Rapids, Iowa, and will be a historic event that puts cancer on the same national stage as other tough questions our country faces.

The LIVESTRONG Army petition will make it clear that our next President must be prepared to answer the cancer question.

As of this week, Democratic candidates Senator Hillary Clinton, Senator John Edwards and Governor Bill Richardson have confirmed their participation for the Democratic LIVESTRONG Presidential Candidate Forum on August 27. Republican candidates Senator Sam Brownback, Governor Mike Huckabee and Governor Tommy Thompson have confirmed their participation in the Republican LIVESTRONG Presidential Candidate Forum on August 28. The event is open to the public, and tickets are free.

The goal is to get rid of this disease forever. The LIVESTRONG Presidential Cancer Forum give all Americans an opportunity to ask the candidates “What's your plan? And where does cancer fit into your policies?”

Join me and thousands of other Americans in demanding answers to the cancer question by signing the LIVESTRONG Army petition today.
LIVESTRONG,







Lance Armstrong, LIVESTRONG Army

Posted by Dread, the Divine Miss "N", the Albino HMS Monkey, and anyone else who want's to sign up and kick some big C arse until it becomes the little c. Or better yet; no c!

a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z

Der Führer (another "F" word) Wannabe

What can I say? Dye and cut the hair just a smidgeon shorter, and voila! It's 1939 all over again! The mouth, the nose, those eerie eyes all give away what lies beneath. Who wants to be the world's first female dictator? Who wants the first female dictator? "Not I!", said the little albino, home made, sock monkey. "Not I!", said Dread as he slipped beneath the Carolina moon. So who does?

Posted by Dread, who previously warned there will be political statements right up until the 2008 election.

a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z

Bridging, (a B word) Generations

Sometimes I wonder what it is that bridges one generation to the next and then the next. And sometimes I wonder what gets left behind and how much is brought forward. And sometimes I wonder why our past slips away from us. Sometimes I wonder.

The Albino HMS monkey took a trip into the countryside today to visit a little history. The only remaining historical covered bridge in South Carolina is Campbell's Covered Bridge. For a state that once was richly sprinkled with covered bridges, we are left with this. That's progress. There are other covered bridges in South Carolina today. I saw one only a couple of months back that was brand new going into a private housing development. But this is the only one left from the past. It's in Greenville County off of highway 414 and was built in 1909. Two years to go before it celebrates 100 years, and already its one of a kind.

Following this along, the monkey also visited another historical bridge today, although significantly more substantial and ancient. But, we'll save that bridge for another day. After all, it represents another generation, even further back. There's a lot of memories in these Carolina hills, some lost, some still remembered, some passed from one generation to the next and then to the next. Bridging the generations, here beneath the Carolina moon.

Posted by Dread who is a bit melancholy this evening remembering the bridges to the past, and wondering what will be the bridges to the future.

Le Fartiste (Which is an "F" word)

This promises to be one of my quirky posts and not one of deep philosophical significance. (As if that's anything new!) This could be a long story, but it isn't. The Fartiste was a 2006 musical, awarded "Best Musical" at the New York International Fringe Festival. It was based on the life of Joseph Pujol, whose stage name was Le Pétomane, and lived from 1857 until 1945.

Just to put this bluntly and so as to not consume copious amounts of web space on nicely tippy toeing around the subject. Monseur Pujol was a professional farter. Yes the man got paid to fart on stage, and people would pay money to sit in a theater and listen/watch. Evidently he could blow out candles several feet away, play a flute though a rubber hose inserted in his rectum, and exercised such fine sphincter muscle control that he could fart La Marseillaise, the French national anthem. (I thought the French national anthem was Retreat, as played by General Custer's cavalry bugler, but that's another opinion for another post.) Believe it not, this is a true story. Le Pétomane was so popular at one time that his act eventually moved to the Moulin Rouge, where his audiences included both royalty and celebrity.

I learned all this while reading the comprehensive treatise on flatulence available at Wikipedia. I hate to say this, but we have nothing like this here beneath the Carolina moon. We've got some wild stories of some pretty eccentric characters, both saintly and shady, but no professional, paid for it, made a grand living at it, farters. We've got Buck Gentry, who burned down his house trailer by accident, when he did the obviously adolescent stunt of lighting a fart. I mean what group of teens hasn't peer pressured some looser into giving it a go? You can even find YouTubes of the events today.

But, Ole' Buck was out beside his pickup truck which was missing the gas cap and Buck had stuck a rag in the fill tube to make do. Well, when the fart lit, the truck lit, and then the trailer lit, and Buck's wife lit into him pretty good. We all took up a collection for Buck down at the Elks club and the pool hall. The Red Cross and the Salvation Army pitched in, and in no time, Buck, Becky, and the two kids, were in a brand new trailer.

Buck hasn't lit any more farts, and nobody wrote a musical about the event, although on some Saturday nights, a gang of kids sometimes park their cars around on the vacant lot where Buck's old trailer used to be, and play music, sip beer, and pass around funny smelling cigarettes. Buck Gentry was the only person that I ever knew personally that came close to being paid to fart.

I don't go around there much anymore. Buck just never was the same after the accident, and Becky developed a mean streak. But sometimes, that's just how life turns out to be, here beneath the Carolina moon.

Posted by Dread, who last night, slept fitfully.

42% Favor Hillary for President of the United States

Who are the 42% of voters who prefer Hillary Clinton for President of the United States? Well, after exhaustive research I have found them! Here are a few pictured below.

I blame the Reagan years for this. The, so called, "harmless insane", were turned back on the street and given disability checks! The remainder reside in Chicago and New York as pictured above and vote Democratic in every election.

Okay, from time to time, or until the election is over, you're going to continue to hear from me in a sometimes political froth. Especially on the Hillary Rodham-Clinton issue. Yes, "it" is an issue! At least it is here, beneath the Carolina moon.

Hrumph!

Dread

Ad is an "A" Word as in Personal Ad

Albino HMS Monkey looking for companionship, romance and more. "If you like Pina Coladas, and getting caught in the rain. If you're not into yoga, if you have half-a-brain. If you like making love at midnight, in the dunes of the cape. You're the love that I've looked for. Come with me, and escape."

With credit to Rupert Holmes; posted by AHM Sock Monkey, who's getting pretty lonely.

Alphabetical Justice

I’ve become consciously aware of my enjoyment of writing about a single word, single phrase or singe thought. I suppose I just can’t leave well enough alone. The alphabet thing I had going here (twice) seemed to work somewhat. The problem is I also have a disdainful, arrogant, aloof disregard to rules. If I do the alphabet, then I have to go by the rules, and follow the alphabet in alphabetical order or maybe backwards. (Yeah… me follow rules very long? Right!) Either way, there are rules of order, and that’s where my personality clashes with the concept.

You will remember sometimes it was quiet some time between posts, not just because life took precedent, but also because my mind was on something else besides a subject that started with the next letter of the alphabet. Tahdah! I have a new work-around idea.

I will do the alphabet thing, as it pops up, that is when I feel like it, but not in the order of the alphabet. I’ll just check off a letter as I go and randomly pick off the alphabet as subjects, words, etc. pop into my head to post about. It’ll be the pop, post, pick method. The idea pops, it gets posted, that picks off a letter. Next time around I pick off another letter. I’ll be happy as I get to break the alphabetical order rule. You the reader will get more frequent posts of things that hopefully will be a bit more meaningful. And all God’s chillin’ gets shoes. That’s what I call win-win-win.

Now if I could just figure out how to color those pesky corner curve thingys in the blogger codes… or if someone had a helpful suggestion. Erh?

Shoes, shoes, shoes, shoes.
All God’s chillin’ got shoes.

And that’s the way it is today, here, beneath the ninety percent full Carolina moon. What was it I said yesterday about going through Chaos to get to Order? Nevermind. If you've forgotten just read it again.

Posted by Dread who hopes you have a great weekender, because he has other plans.

Another Nice Mess

Here's another nice mess I've gotten myself into! A three minute tour into Blogger's new features and three days later here I am. The new "stuff" is beginning to come together... sorta. It may work out yet. Successfully rolling with the punches was always one of my positive attributes, talents, blessings, gifts, whathaveyous. It seems the older I get the less resilient I am. Thank goodness I was always of an extraordinarily high resilience.

Sometimes, things get worse before they get better. In fact, around here they frequently do just that. Sometimes the road to order goes through chaos. Hey! I like that saying! I just coined it! Or maybe I didn't. Maybe it was gift presented through me. You may never know, but I already do. Because, that's the way it is here beneath the Carolina moon. Sometimes the road to Order goes through Chaos.

Posted by Dread who knows that Ollie and Stanley never said "another fine mess", but did frequently use "another nice mess".

Ow! That'll Leave a Mark!

I've managed to royally half mess up the blog page. I'm going to stop for today. This is one job better left half done, rather than completely messing it up. No, this pic isn't me either, but I have frequently walked into glass doors.

Posted by Dread who thought "mess" was a much more polite word than the other two choices.

Changing/Fixing Things

No, that is not me. That is a picture of Juan Phartez famous Columbian gormet pinto bean farmer and formula one mechanic. This picture is to illustrate this post; poorly. Yes, very poorly. And, I'll probably get hate mail for the Columbian pinto bean farmer, politically incorrect comment. So be it.

I'm experimenting with a new header/logo. Okay, not new to Beneath the Carolina Moon, but new to this location with Blogger. Making all this work out is challenging, and I really don't have tons of time to tinker around and figure it all out. If anyone has a quick tip, I'll take it.

The quicker I can get this all figured out, the quicker I can get to the next post which is, I assure you, very southern, very gossipy without the gossip, and has to do with... wait! Someone just tell me how to change/fix the header/logo!

Dread (who defines himself as an ethnically uncleansed human being)

Time Out

While we are taking a little time out from the more serious blogging, I thought it a good time to remember how pictures enhance and illustrate the words we pull together to convey what we want to express. I also though how well sometimes words give meaning and fun to a picture or create the drama or explanation for the scene depicted. Sometimes words alone are enough and sometimes a picture alone is enough. Sometimes neither is enough, and while the picture leaves you intrigued, words of explanation, or even a title, would just detract. This is one of those pictures. It's just neat all by itself.


Remember this guy? Some of you may even remember his friend. Neither has anything to do with anything beneath the Carolina Moon. However, you might just find that some of the characteristics of each aren't that uncommon here. So now, just maybe you know a smidgen little more of what its like to live beneath the Carolina moon.

Dread

A Legend Moves On


Bill Pinkney of the Original Drifters has passed. Shown here at his 80th birthday, Bill was 81 at his passing. Beach Music... Sand In My Shoes, Up on the Roof, Save the Last Dance for Me, Under the Boardwalk, Saturday Night at the Movies...the list goes on. The Drifters even had a version of White Christmas which featured Bill's mellow basso voice, which is still played today. Beach Music, Bill Pinkney and the Drifters, all started at Myrtle Beach South Carolina. Coastal Carolina University near Myrtle Beach bestowed an Honorary Doctor of Fine Arts Degree upon Bill Pinkney citing his decorations from World War II, his close association with classic rhythm and blues recordings, and his involvement with Beach Music and South Carolina's state dance, the Shag.

Bill was was the last of the originals. He will be buried here beneath the Carolina Moon, but missed everywhere.

While I was mulling over the future path of the Beneath the Carolina Moon blog, the Albino Home Made Sock Monkey (AHMS Monkey) went a little ballistic over parking, and well, you can see the results. Fortunately it stopped here and the parking problems we were experiencing all ceased. I'm thinking of using her as a trouble shooter to help with other business and personal related problems.

Just for information; I did google the sock monkey convention, gathering, thingy, event. Then I emailed the young lady designated as the contact. It seems, there is an annual event called the Sock Monkey Festival held at Midway Village and Museum Center in Rockford Illinois, official home of the Sock Monkey. There's a whole history of those red heeled socks that were made in Rockford, and actually people who collect sock monkeys, and even giant statues of sock monkeys there. As quaint as the whole bugaboo is, for now, I am quite satisfied with only having the aquaintence of the Albino HMS Monkey. I'm pretty busy with people and pets and things that go bump in the night, like my toe against the dresser last week. I'm still having to watch how I step up stairs.

At the end of the day, there's only so much space in my life and for now, one sock monkey is enough. I do appreciate Theresa Sellers responding to my email. If any of you wish to contact her for further sock monkey weirdo stuff and things, her contact info is:

Theresa Sellers
Customer Service Coordinator
Rockford Area Convention & Visitors Bureau
102 N. Main St., Rockford, IL 61101-1102 USA
Voice: 815.489.1672 / 800.521.0849
Fax: 815.963.4298 / 800.691.7035
E-Mail: tsellers@gorockford.com
Website: www.gorockford.com

Ms Sellers also felt the need to point out that her last name has recently changed to Sellers for future contact. I haven't a clue what it was prior. I'm wondering if it was a change for marriage, unmarriage, or maybe convenience, like she didn't like her last name because it was something like Deadrat. If my name was Theresa Deadrat I would change it to something else too. But, I wouldn't pick Sellers, would you?

So I wonder what precipitated the name change. Am I going to write her and ask? Life should keep some mysteries to stay interesting. I'll just let this be one of those. Life always has mysteries for me, at least it does here, beneath the Carolina moon, like why won't Blogger let me insert a title to this post? What gives with that? Hey! Maybe another assignment for the Albino HMS Monkey? You think? Oh by the way, the next Sock Monkey Festival will be held
March 8th & 9th, 2008.

Dread

Happy 4th from the Albino HMS Monkey!

From the seaside, beneath the Carolina moon, the Albino Home Made Sock Monkey makes her debut, wishing America a HAPPY 231st BIRTHDAY!

Replacement Monkey

I was going to go ahead and run a pic of the albino HMS monkey today, but I evidently left the pix on the camera and forgot to (a) off-load them to my memory stick, and or (b) left the transfer cable for the camera at the office. So, today I will (c) run something else.

A friend sent me the following and I thought it worth sharing. The story below will better explain the pic above.

It seems my friend Ed is in deep trouble. He forgot his wedding anniversary. His wife, Helen, was really angry. She launched into a tirade. In the end, Helen told Ed that the next morning she expected to find a gift in the driveway that goes from 0 to 200 in under six seconds. She screamed at him, "It better be there or else!"

The next morning, Ed got up early and left for work before Helen awoke. When Helen woke up though, she got up and looked out the window, and sure enough there was a giftwrapped box in the driveway. Helen grabbed her robe and excitedly ran out to the driveway to get the box. She brought it back into the house where she opened it and found a brand new bathroom scale.

Ed has been missing since last Friday. I'm only assuming that he's lost, somewhere beneath the Carolina moon.

Dread

It's Super Saturday!

Thank you Sandy Kessler for the wish of a special Saturday, posted on your blog! The same for you! In fact, the same is wished for all of you who come here for an occasional moment of bemusement.

When wished to have a nice day or a good weekend, one of my friends used to say, "Thanks, but I have other plans." He was trying to be funny. Now I use that phrase when someone tells me where to go, what to kiss, or to do some self contorting act. There's usually no comeback to it. Sometimes, I even get a chuckle or a smile that cracks the atmosphere of anger.

Please do have a super Saturday, especially you Mrs. Kessler, and I hope you don't have other plans. I don't!

Dread

Synchrocity (ever how it's spelled)

We never know where a ripple once loosed on the world will end. Doug Thompson, whose blog I don't have linked here but I read regularly, recently proved the point well. He set loose a ripple over 30 years ago, that he hadn't fully realized the impact of, that came calling across his path again. These kind of things happen quiet a lot when people are in tune with their path. There are other ways to put it, but that's what I'll call it for now; "being in turne with your path".

Every act, word, or even thought, has its own resonance that reverberates through creation, spreading its influence as it moves along through the eons. Sometimes we see an effect or a ripple recross our path, but as often as not our actions can be orphans, taking on a life of their own, far away from their origins. We hold in our hands, a responsibility to the future with each word we speak, each gesture we make, or thing we do or leave undone.

I've lived long enough to see many of the ripples of my own wake recross my path, and to know that all the universe is but one great sphere. No matter which direction you travel, nor how far, and whether you realize it or not, given enough time, and the same will happen to you.

I know that's how it is here beneath the Carolina moon. And, now Doug Thompson proves that it happens in Virginia, and Illinois. I suggest that you have a read of Doug's blog post titled "Small World". Click the link and then scroll down 3/4 of the page then click the "read more" thingy at the end of the intoduction of "Small World". Then I hope you will come back and leave a comment to let me know what you think. Blue Ridge Muse/

Thanks for dropping by,

Dread

Yes (which is a “Y” word) I skipped Y

Yes (<-There! A Y!), that is Benjamin Franklin. Why(<-oh another Y!) do I have Ben as today’s illustration? I’ll get to that; sort of. Why (<-notice another y) did I skip Y (<-there it is again) in my flow through the alphabet? Ah well, it could have been missed medication. It could have been eagerness to be done with that pass of the alphabet. It could have been I thought Y (<-yes, there it is again) is a yucky (<-Oh! Doubles!) letter, and one of my least favorite in the whole alphabet. Y(<-Okay, I’m getting tired of pointing these out) is used to spell YELLOW, which is the designated yucky and puke like color of the palate. I have my own theories about how yellow came into being, and I don’t really think God created that one. Its just an evil color. You might guess that I have a history with yellow that prejudices me against it. You would be right. I’m not going to discuss it here though. I get nauseated thinking about it even momentarily. I doubt you want me to transfer that nausea to words for you to read and plant into you own head, so let’s just skip it. Instead I’ll plug in something else here today.

Since I finished the alphabet with the last post, and began a new post which ground rules I laid down say there are no rules, I’ve decided to mention the Y, which I did already, and mention Bob Wallace who sometimes writes on “The Sudden Curve”. Which is a strange blog I visit with some sporadic regularity. If you find the phrase “sporadic regularity” a bit oxymoronish and confusing, you should read what Bob writes on his other site (I dare not call it a blog). The Bob Circus 3.0 has a collection of his writings which, although I haven’t read all of them nor even a sufficient sample to offer a credible critique, I find to be somewhat less rambling than my pastor’s sermons and at least near as wise and useful. Similar to my pastor’s Sunday sermons, but not quiet as lengthy, his writings often ramble for two pages before he makes a one sentence statement that says it all. Both pastor’s sermons and Bob’s writings are usually worth wading through to get to that sentence though, and usually provide an entertaining path to that sentence and back.

I am a firm believer that the wisest and most meaningful things ever said were said in three sentences or less. I’ve read nothing to prove me wrong in that perspective. Today I read on The Bob Circus, “Benjamin Franklin was absolutely correct when he wrote, "They that give up essential liberty to obtain a little temporary safety deserve neither liberty or safety." And they'll lose both liberty and safety.” Now Bob quotes Ben Franklin, a man known for wisdom, which in my unhumble opinion, was a very wise thing to do, then injects his on conclusion. I happen to agree, with both Ben and Bob.

I’ve exercised my liberty to skip the Y, and then again to put it up there today. I don’t want to bother with putting links in to The Sudden Curve or The Bob Circus 3.0, so you’ll just have to hunt for them if you want to have a read. That’s another neat thing about liberty, you have the liberty to do, AND the liberty to not do; at least you do here beneath the Carolina moon.

Dread

Zanzibar is the Z Word to End the Alphabet

Zanzibar is located in the Indian Ocean south of Kenya and just across the Zanzibar Channel from Tanzania. Located directly across from the mouths of the Wami and Pangani Rivers, Zanzibar appears also to have a city named Zanzibar, but I’m really not sure. Most people have heard of Zanzibar, but they can’t place when or why. The information I was able to get on Zanzibar is confusing. It appears Zanzibar is made up of two major islands and a bunch of minor sandbar type islands. The interweb can be a sorry place to research some places, while a good place to research other places. Zanzibar seems to have been pushed into the strange and strained side of the webnet.

Zanzibar has traditionally been a final whistle stop for great safaris, hence it has forever been romanticized, fictionalized, and aggrandized. When something larger than life gets mixed into a story of fantasy, truth and legend, it becomes difficult to separate fact from legend. After all, the degree of exotic, rich, and opulent is mostly in the discernment of the individual. Much like Rome, Venice, Paris, Katmandu, and Singapore, the word Zanzibar alone conjures up a unique romance that defines exotic. But, today’s post isn’t so much about Zanzibar, except what has been written already, as it is about a Zanzibar inhabitant and about endings and beginnings.

The Red Colobus Monkey is a native of Zanzibar and about the only thing I know about them is, unlike myself, they haven’t reproduced in captivity. They do reproduce in the wilds of Zanzibar though. There’s probably a good lesson in that for all of us, but I’ll let each of you figure that one out on your own. I have my own take, but rather keep it private.

As for Zanzibar, being the final destination and end of the great safaris, I suppose you could consider it the end of the earth. It certainly is practically an opposite end of the earth from North America from whence I hail. But as we all know, and if not you are about to be told, all endings are beginnings. With this post, I’ve reached the end of the alphabet again, and begin a new series for the blog. I’m also ending the alphabet following habit I’ve had for a couple of passes. I’ve found it to be constraining, and there are ideas that just feed into my consciousness that sometimes scream to be let out. All that screaming is distracting, and makes it hard to focus on whatever letter of the alphabet I am on at that particular time.

So, today’s post of Zanzibar, the end of the earth, is the end of the alphabet, and the end of the series. But not the end of the blog. It’s a beginning of a new series, and the introduction of a new subtheme; the monkey. Today, it was the Red Colobus Monkey. Next, who knows? Maybe, the Albino HMS Monkey? As usual, I’ll interrupt with other thoughts, those that scream at me and won’t shut up until I let them out. Would you expect any less, here beneath the Carolina moon?

Dread

Xang is an "X" Word

While there are many X rated words out there, and most of you already know what they are, today I'll stick with the effort to educate and lift our intellect above that of the mere crass, brute creatures, by just sticking with an "X" word. Xang of course rhymes with Tang (R) (the breakfast drink suposedly invented for astronauts), and also dang (a deritive of damn, and a close relative of X rated words). If you say all these words together, like this; Xang Tang Dang, it sounds much like a Laotian war lord's name, or perhaps that of an anciant Chinese philosopher or emperor.

If you want to get technical, Xang actually comes from the orient, particularly Laos. The United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime web site states, "Modern-day Laos has its roots in the ancient Lao kingdom of Lan Xang (literally, "a million elephants"), established in the 14th century under King Fa Ngum. For three hundred years Lan Xang included large parts of present-day Cambodia and Thailand, as well as all of what is now Laos."

But today's blog isn't about Laotian Xang (except for what's already been said and the picture pirated off the United Nations Web site(What are they gonna do? Sanction an embargo against me?)). Anywho, today's post is about the Xang that is part of the Apache Server Project. And to explain that, I have to go back a ways; not as far back as the kingdom of Xang, but back a few years.

Once upon certain time, I had become so frustrated with webbased website building and restrictions, that I decided to put a web server of my own on line, and so I did. For several years I ran my own web site from my home based server over a cable connection. I used the Linux operating system (Mandrake flavor), and the Apache Web Server. Otherwise, I winged it. This worked nicely until the hardware began to get a little age and start to just wear out a couple of years ago.

The sever and web site ran off of an AMD 500 mhz processor home pc, with about 300 or so mb of ram. It did very nicely, thank you very much. The little server hosted a large web site called "C What I 8" that had a variety of features, one of which was the Beneath the Carolina Moon blog.

A couple of years ago, I built a new 3ghz Pentum based PC with a gig of ram to replace the aging AMD box, and began tinkering with an updated version of the Apache Web Server. It just wasn't as much fun as the old days, and I had a life full to do, with little time to dedicate to getting everything I wanted out of the server using wild scripts and other software to access data bases that I would have to build. Eventually, I disconnected the server and put the project on hold. But, I have now discovered that the Apache project has branched and rebranched and developed some really neat tools, one of which is Xang.

The welcome page of the Apache Xang Project states, "Apache Xang lets you quickly build data-driven, cross-platform Web applications that integrate disparate data sources. The Xang architecture cleanly separates data, logic and presentation. It is based on open industry standards such as HTTP, XML, XSL, DOM and ECMAScript (JavaScript)." You can read all about Xang here: The Apache Xang Project .

I'm excited about Xang, because it sounds like a useful tool that will help me build the kind of web site that I have had in mind for quiet some time. I don't think I'm going to host my blog there though. For now, Blogger gets by, and how often do I even post an entry? But its not a project to get to anytime soon. I've already got my hands full here beneath the Carolina moon. I'll have to clear the decks of a few things before I dive into that project.

Another oddball project will be coming to Beneath the Carolina Moon. After the "Z" post, we'll intoduce the Albino HMS Monkey. What is an albino HMS monkey? Stay tuned.

Dread