Obama sells out to Big Oil

I knew it was too good to be true.  No major legislation happens in this country without back-room deals and sell-outs.

Headline in today's NY Times:

Obama to Open Offshore Areas to Oil Drilling For First Time

WASHINGTON — The Obama administration is proposing to open vast expanses of water along the Atlantic coastline, the eastern Gulf of Mexico and the north coast of Alaska to oil and natural gas drilling, much of it for the first time, officials said Tuesday.

The proposal — a compromise that will please oil companies and domestic drilling advocates but anger some residents of affected states and many environmental organizations — would end a longstanding moratorium on oil exploration along the East Coast from the northern tip of Delaware to the central coast of Florida, covering 167 million acres of ocean.

Offshore drilling has been a fight in Florida for decades.  The right wing argued that the "billions" of barrels of oil would "save the country" and make us free of the Arabs.  Environmentalists contended that there was no such thing as billions of barrels of oil off of the coast and that the devastation to Florida's beaches and wetlands a major oil spill would cause made drilling simply not worth the risk.

Finally, both sides agreed to a major study to determine the truth.  About a month ago, the study was completed and made public.  The local rag carried the story on page 4, Section B.

Headline in the Florida Times Union:

Report:  Oil Supply Negligible

TALLAHASSEE - Estimated reserves in Florida waters would provide the United States with less than a week's worth of oil and have no discernible effect on prices at the pump or U.S. reliance on foreign oil, according to a report released Friday as part of the state Senate review of whether a ban of off-shore drilling should be lifted.

It appears that Change We Can Believe In comes at a price.  I wonder what we're going to get in return since the Red states mostly effected by this turn of events didn't vote for health care in the first place.  When Obama visited the area some time ago, our local congressman, Ander Crenshaw, a blue-blood, lock-step Republican, who damned sure doesn't support change we can believe in, was quick to be seen hanging with the President at every opportunity.

I thought to myself at the time that he's (Crenshaw) angling for more military spending in this Navy town and sure enough, a few weeks later, big proclamation in the paper, the local navy base is being considered for a nuclear aircraft carrier.

I think it was Mark Twain who said, "Don't believe anything you hear and only half of what you see."

For Men Who Leave The Seat Up

Four Irish Catholic men and a woman are having coffee after Mass.

One of the men brags, "My son is a priest and when he walks into a room everyone calls him Father."

Another one says,  "Well now, my son is a Bishop and when he walks into a room people call him Your Grace."

The third man announces proudly, "Me eldest is a Cardinal and when he walks into a room people rise and call him Your Eminence."

The fourth man swells with pride and proclaims, "Hoot man, me son is the Pope, and people call him Your Holiness."

The woman sits quietly while all four men stare at her waiting for her reply.  After a moment she says,  "Well, my daughter is 24 years old, she's tall and slim, has double D breasts and an hour-glass waist and when she enters a room all the men stop talking and say... Oh my God!"

Easily Understandable Explanation of Derivative Markets

Heidi is the proprietor of a bar in Detroit . She realizes that virtually all of her customers are unemployed alcoholics and, as such, can no longer afford to patronize her bar. To solve this problem, she comes up with new marketing plan that allows her customers to drink now, but pay later. She keeps track of the drinks consumed on a ledger (granting the customers loans).

Word gets around about Heidi's "drink now, pay later" marketing strategy and, as a result, increasing numbers of customers flood into Heidi's bar. Soon she has the largest sales volume for any bar in Detroit .

By providing her customers' freedom from immediate payment demands, Heidi gets no resistance when, at regular intervals, she substantially increases her prices for wine and beer, the most consumed beverages. Consequently, Heidi's gross sales volume increases massively.

A young and dynamic vice-president at the local bank recognizes that these customer debts constitute valuable future assets and increases Heidi's borrowing limit. He sees no reason for any undue concern, since he has the debts of the unemployed alcoholics as collateral.

At the bank's corporate headquarters, expert traders transform these customer loans into DRINKBONDS, ALKIBONDS and PUKEBONDS. These securities are then bundled and traded on international security markets. Naive investors don't really understand that the securities being sold to them as AAA secured bonds are really the debts of unemployed alcoholics. Nevertheless, the bond prices continuously climb, and the securities soon become the hottest-selling items for some of the nation's leading brokerage houses.

One day, even though the bond prices are still climbing, a risk manager at the original local bank decides that the time has come to demand payment on the debts incurred by the drinkers at Heidi's bar. He so informs Heidi.

Heidi then demands payment from her alcoholic patrons, but being unemployed alcoholics they cannot pay back their drinking debts. Since, Heidi cannot fulfill her loan obligations she is forced into bankruptcy. The bar closes and the eleven employees lose their jobs.

Overnight, DRINKBONDS, ALKIBONDS and PUKEBONDS drop in price by 90%. The collapsed bond asset value destroys the banks liquidity and prevents it from issuing new loans, thus freezing credit and economic activity in the community.

The suppliers of Heidi's bar had granted her generous payment extensions and had invested their firms' pension funds in the various BOND securities. They find they are now faced with having to write off her bad debt and with losing over 90% of the presumed value of the bonds. Her wine supplier also claims bankruptcy, closing the doors on a family business that had endured for three generations, her beer supplier is taken over by a competitor, who immediately closes the local plant and lays off 150 workers.

Fortunately though, the bank, the brokerage houses and their respective executives are saved and bailed out by a multi-billion dollar no-strings attached cash infusion from their cronies in Government. The funds required for this bailout are obtained by new taxes levied on employed, middle-class, non-drinkers who have never been in Heidi's bar.

Now, that you understand what just happened, don't you feel better? I sure do...

About Nothing In Particular

I have an old friend, Pat, whose family owns one of the most desirable pieces of property in the entire state of Florida.  It's about 37 acres on a pensinsula where the Suwanee and Sante Fe rivers come together.  Each of these rivers are among the most beautiful in the nation.  Each fed by a hundred or more springs that dot the landscape in this part of the state.


For several years, I've been after Pat to go down there and look at the property, which she herself hasn't seen since childhood.  We made a pact that this Saturday would be the day.  Additionally, I had reason to visit Kanapaha Botanical Gardens in Gainesville to check out their annual Spring Garden Festival.


Saturday dawned as a beautiful, Florida spring day.  Bright and clear with the temperature predicted to climb into the mid-70s.  A perfect day for a road trip.


Our plan was to visit Kanapaha early, before the big crowds arrived, and then cruise up to the Suwanee to check out the property.  Everything was going true to form.  We took the scenic route down through Keystone Heights which takes you through Gainesville and past the sprawling campus of the University of Florida.  However, when we reached the entrance to Kanapaha, the place was a mad house.  Cars lined the entire 1 mile drive into the gardens. 

I learned long ago that oftentimes you can find a good parking space at events like this by simply driving to the front door and taking the place of someone who was leaving.  Not to be.


In a long line of cars, we creeped by the overflowing parking area and were directed by clearly overwhelmed and mostly clueless teenage volunteers to a nearby city park where throngs of people were already cued for the yet-to-be-seen shuttle busses.  Believing descretion the better part of valor, we decided to junk the mission and head for the Suwanee.


We stopped for lunch at a quaint little restaurant in High Springs.  The ambiance and food were delicious as we sat outside enjoying the day.  It was there that I discovered the maps and Google Earth photos I had printed to help us find the property were of the wrong piece of land, on the wrong side of the river.  No problem, Pat said, a quick phone call to her brother up in Lake City would give us precise directions of how to find the place.  Besides, I did have the presence of mind to bring the Florida Gazetteer with me.


When Bob heard our mission his immediate response was, "It ain't all that easy to find."  "And I'm not sure this is the best time of year to go," he continued.  "The last time I was out there this time of year I killed three rattlesnakes and saw a dozen more."  "Besides, the river is way up and there won't be any beach anyway."


Well, rattlesnakes don't scare me much, but Pat wasn't all that sure.  We decided to at least see if we could find the property and assess the situation when we got there.

We crossed the Suwanee on SR340 about 40 miles from everywhere and indeed, the river was up and way into the trees.


After about 45 minutes of looking for the property, driving around in circles on remote dirt roads, we gave up.  It was clear that, even if we did find the property we wouldn't know it if we saw it.  Second goal scrubbed.


We decided to cruise up to Branford and check out Branford Springs.

The spring is located in a nice little city park with 50s era picnic tables and boat ramp. The spring itself was flooded by the river so there was no crystal clear "blue hole" in which to peer.

OK, can't see the spring, third mission scrubbed. 

Not to be deterred, we decided to drive down the east side of the river to the spot I had mapped and see if we could at least see the property from the other side of the Suwanee.  So, we headed south and soon crossed the Sante Fe River.  Our goal, Wanamake Point.

Along the way we happened onto an old peeling roadside sign: Ellie Ray's Fish Camp, Campground, Saloon and Package Store.  That's more like it!  Took a hard right down a dirt drive.

Ellie Ray's was just the place and we decided to stop for a brew. It's a classic backwoods honky tonk with a big deck overlooking the river. As you can see, the Sante Fe was as high as the Suwanee.

Mr. C's pocket rocket. As we were enjoying our beers, we couldn't help but overhear a conversation between an older man and woman, each of whom were hard of hearing, talking about their experiences with Facebook. It was all we could do to keep from laughing out loud.  I wish I had had my phone with me so I could have recorded it for you. Also don't know why, but I didn't grab a photo of Millie Rays. Just not thinking I guess.

We went on to Wanamake Point only to find that the piece of property I had mapped to allow us access to the river was now fenced, with No Trespassing signs on every third post. 

Mission four scrubbed.

We got home to find Katie fixing dinner. She had set up a nice table on the deck. A couple of martinis, a fine candlelight dinner with wine, good company... a day well spent.

Mission accomplished.

Mr. C does NASCAR

A few weeks ago I was sitting at my desk when the phone rang.  It was my brother-in-law.

Me:  Hello.

Him:  Hey C, this is Mark.  You want to go to Atlanta to the Sprint Cup race with a Hot Pit pass?

Me, after a skinnit (a skinny minute) of reflection:  Hell Yes!

It turns out Mark was doing some marketing for a new Sprint Cup team and wanted me to go with him to take some shots of the car to use in his promotional materials.  The idea is to remove sponsor logos and insert those of the company he's trying to sell so that they can "see" what millions of Americans and those around the world will see on television during a race.

The team was TRG Motorsports, the #71 car driven by Bobby Labonte.  I was familiar with TRG from the Grand Am series where they sponsor four Porsche GT cars and know them to be a first class outfit.

So the deal is done and off we go to Atlanta.  For those of you who don't know, a Hot Pit pass means you are literally part of the team and can go anywhere in the garage or the pits at anytime, even during the race.  The only place you can't go during a race is over the wall.  The garage can be a dangerous place so these passes are very limited and controlled.

Following is a behind-the-scenes photo tour of a Sprint Cup weekend.

This is our car on it's way out to Saturday qualifying.  We qualified 21st out of a 43 car field.  Not bad for a new, one car shop.

Bobby talks things over in the garage with Skip Pope, suspension expert and strategist.  I had dinner with Skip and learned more about spring and damper rates and race strategy than I can possibly repeat here.





Skip told a good story that came out of talking about how much I enjoyed watching drivers from other types of racing try NASCAR. I mentioned that I thought Danika Patrick would make it because she's "got the touch." Skip relayed a story about how most of the drivers have "driver comfort" assistants whose job it is to make sure their helmets are dry and ready, water bottles are in the car, etc. Danika has no such assistant. She does it all herself.


One race day Danika had climbed into her car when she frantically waved over one of her crew members and told him that she had forgotten her gloves. She asked him to run back to her motorhome and look in the such-in-such drawer and he would find them there. Off he goes. He returned without them and saw that she had them on. She had sent him rummaging through her underwear. She instantly earned her team's affection.

 

A stroll through the garage turned up Little E in heavy conversation.  Dale took the pole position (that means he starts in first place ladies).

Race day dawns clear and cold.

Yes, that's heavy frost on the pace car.

Team chef, Elaine, rustles up breakfast for the crew.  Eggs, bacon, sausage, biscuits and grits.  This is Atlanta folks.









The entire operation is housed in the hauler you see behind her.  Cars above, spare parts, a small machine shop and even a lounge/office area are contained in the hauler.  Lots of computers.

The garage area is becoming busy and the stands starting to fill, although it wasn't nearly a sell-out as in past years.  I would estimate that 30% of the seats were empty.  Sign of the times.

Celebrities stroll the paddock.  That's Jeff Bodine on the right, who brought NASCAR technology to the Bodine bobsled, along with our Olympic women's bobsled team.  They won a bronze medal at the games.

You could trip over TV personalities.  I have no idea who this one is.

The cars roll out onto the grid.

The pits and grid get really crowded with teams, press and piss-ants like me everywhere.

Drivers get introduced to the roar, or boos, of the crowd.  Loudest cheer, Dale Jr.  Loudest jeer, Shrub.  Hometown favorite Bill Elliot got a rousing cheer as did Jeff Gordon (pictured).

NASCAR's super-team, Chad Knaus and Jimmy Johnson talk last-minute strategy.  No one could interrupt them until it was time for Jimmy to pose for photos.

After the crews line up for the obligatory national anthem and jet fly-over, it's put up or shut up time.  Our man, Bobby Labonte, climbs in to start combat.  You can see how many empty seats there are in the stands.  Even so, it's a damned big show.





Mark and I hung around for the first few laps and then, being the old farts we are, decided to check-out and start the 6-hour drive home.  We actually tried to leave about 10 in the morning but they wouldn't let us out of the parking lot.  One-way traffic only.  So back inside for us where I took most of the race-day photos.

Our guy finished 22nd.  A really good result for a new team.  A great weekend and one I will do again, if asked.  BTW, you can purchase a Cold Pit pass as a patron but I'm told they go for $500.

A Bright Spot In Your Day

From Al Jazeera:

Cambodia's Khmer Rouge was responsible for the deaths of an estimated two million people from 1975-79, and millions more were left with deep mental and physical scars.

Sin Son was one of them.

He lost several of his relatives in the mass slaughter but one very special companion, an elephant named Sambo, survived.

Sin Son told Al Jazeera of his reunion with his childhood friend after many years apart.

Bushes, father and son, give Obama some advice

Love 'em or hate 'em, you've got to admit that the Bush father and son team were pretty successful at achieving the title of "most powerful man on earth." In a genuine show of bipartisan cooperation, GHWB and GWB give some good advice to Obama.

Presidential Reunion: Bush Sr. vs. Bush Jr. from Will Ferrell

What God Hath Wrought - final scene

In this, the last scenes I will publish, we find our hero, Matt, invited to the company's annual VIP picnic. A little lightheaded, he goes onto the deck to get away from the confusion and schmoozing. EXT. CLUB HOUSE - DAY A little unsteady, Matt holds the rail as he walks off of the deck and around the building, trying to put the noise behind him. He spots another lake through the trees a short distance away and walks towards it. He comes to a dirt lane that runs past the lodge and into the woods. An open-bed truck loaded with wire cages containing quacking ducks, two black men in the cab, rolls past and into the woods. He can hear it pull to a stop a short distance away, the doors slam as the driver and passenger get out. Curious, he follows. EXT. TREE CANOPIED DIRT ROAD - DAY Matt walks toward the sound of the two men talking and soon reaches a place where the truck is parked at a lakeside clearing. He hangs back and watches as they carry the cages full of ducks out onto a small dock. Suddenly, he’s stung on the neck by a fly and he smacks it. More insects begin to swarm so he decides to return to the lodge, waving the bugs away as he goes. EXT. FRONT OF LODGE – DAY As Matt arrives back at the lodge, the party begins streaming out of the building and gathering on the front lawn. Jimbo spots him and hollers out...

JIMBO

There you are little buddy. C'mon. We been lookin for ya. (Waves Matt over.)

When Matt reaches him, Jimbo throws his arm around his shoulders and takes off across the lawn towards a large pavilion on the bank of the other lake.

JIMBO

You gonna like this. You ever fired a shotgun?

MATT

When I was a kid.

JIMBO

Well, it ain't no big deal. The important thing is too give yourself enough lead to allow for the kick. You know what I mean?

He lets go of Matt to illustrate by pretending he's shooting the rifle.

JIMBO

When the bird flies you gotta lead em a little low and squeeze tha trigger, cause that gun's gonna kick back an up...

He illustrates by jerking his pretend gun back and up as if it's firing. I so doing, he spills his drink on himself.

JIMBO

Shit! (brushes himself) Oh, what the hell. (laughs) Man, the first prize is a trip to Hi-why-ee. Bare bellies an hula skirts. Ooooweee. Know what ah mean?

MATT

(Incredulous) Birds?

Jimbo spots one of his buddies as they reach the pavilion.

JIMBO

Hey Buck. Betcha a hunnert dollars I git mor'ern you do.

EXT. PAVILION – DAY The pavilion is a large, rustic, screened area filled with picnic tables. Smoke pours from the chimney, wafting across the group as they approach. As they cue for the door, Jimbo elbows Matt.

JIMBO

Ummm, low-country barbeque. Man, them Geechee's sure know how to cook. Course, it ain't as good as TexMex. But what is? (laughs)

INT. PAVILION – DAY The atmosphere is festive, everyone happy. Two black men cook ribs and loin over a smoldering grill, carefully turning and basting each side. The kitchen staff, black women in aprons, ready the side dishes behind large open serving counters separating the kitchen from the main room. Double doors lead onto an expansive open deck overlooking the water. As the crowd pours in they are greeted by (MUSIC) a Dixieland combo working away at "The Dark town Strutter's Ball." When everyone is inside, an over-the-hill celebrity (BURT) with a microphone steps onto a small podium. He signals the band to stop. People recognize him and begin elbowing each other.

BURT

Howdy!

CROWD

Howdy.

BURT

You can do better than that. I said HOWDY!

CROWD

HOOWDEEE!!

BURT

Welcome to the 15th Annual Sweetgum Duck Shoot and Bar-B-Q.

Applause, cheers, cat calls.

BURT

(continuing)

I know you’ve been waitin all year to get back down here and enjoy some of that good ole low-country barbeque.

Scattered applause. BURT

(continuing)

And I know you can’t wait for your chance to win some fantastic prizes... including an all expense paid vacation to... Hawaii!

Enthusiastic applause, cat calls.

BURT

(continuing)

But I know the one thing you've been waiting for most of all...

He waves his arm in the direction of the kitchen. (MUSIC) The band cranks up “Hold That Tiger”. The doors to the kitchen swing open and a bevy of cheerleaders wearing skimpy rhinestone outfits and waving pom poms marches into the throng. A great cheer arises. The girls wiggle their tails and shake their tits as they snake their way through the crowd. Some of the men make a grab for them but the girls brush them off with a wink and a smile. The men go crazy. Hootin and hollerin. It’s a blast. The girls form a Conga Line and everyone gets caught up in it, even the company women. “Hold that ti-ger,” one-two-three, bump! Tataki, grinning from ear to ear, has one hand on a girl’s hips while he lecherously rubs her butt with the other. One-two-three, bump! One-two-three, bump! Cigar in mouth, Jimbo waves both hands in the air and gyrates gleefully, pretending to grind his groin against the rear of the girl in front of him. Hold that ti-ger, one-two-three, bump! Matt can’t help himself and joins the line as well. After circling the room a couple of times, the girls lead everyone out onto the deck. One-two-three, bump! One-two-three, bump! EXT. DECK – DAY The crowd spills onto the deck. At one end is a large vertical game show wheel. Next to it is a scoreboard. On a small side deck a black man, in E&D garb, tends to a rack of shotguns. Burt takes his place at the podium next to the scoreboard. Two of the girls break out of the conga line, one positioning herself next to the wheel, the other at the scoreboard. The other girls break away and begin hostessing the guests, who are finding seats among the tables. Some of the girls serve drinks. Others bring platters of ribs and bowls of “fixens” out to each table. Everybody’s happy, talking, laughing, digging in.

BURT

(With microphone.) Alright now, ya’ll listen up. All you guys who’re playin come on up here and git yourself a number. Everybody else, enjoy the grub.

One of the girls (ample breasts, lots of cleavage) struts forward holding a large bowl full of numbered pieces of paper over her head. Catcalls from the crowd.

BURT

Come on now. Don’t be bashful.

About half of the men crowd forward and take a number out of the bowl. Now, really tipsy, Matt finds himself a spot on the perimeter of the festivities from which to watch the proceedings.

BURT

Alright now. Last call. Anybody who wants to shoot better git up here quick.

As people make their way through the group to draw a number from the bowl, Lassiter walks over and joins Matt at the rail. LASSITER

Enjoying yourself?

MATT

(slightly slurred speech) Yes sir. It’s... different.

LASSITER

(cocks and eye towards him) These things give us a chance to have a little fun together. Get to know each other a little better outside of the office. Gives us something to talk about besides business. Are you going to shoot?

MATT

No, no thanks. I think I’ll just watch.

The girl with the bowl holds it high over her head as she struts back and forth across the stage. A few catcalls and whistles from the men.

SOMEONE IN THE CROWD

Show us your tits!

The girl smiles and wiggles her abundant breasts at the men to many hoots and catcalls.

BURT

Anybody else? Last chance. Anybody? OK, no more players?

He smiles and winks at the bowl girl.

BURT

(continuing)

Thank you darlin.

He looks towards the girl at the wheel.

BURT

(continuing)

Sweetie, would you do us the honors?

The girl gives the wheel a big spin. The wheel goes around and stops on the number 32.

BURT

(continuing)

Alright! Number 32 come on up here.

One of the men in the crowd lets out a whoop and pushes his way towards the side deck where an attendant readies a shotgun. As the man (LESTER) reaches the deck, the attendant closes the breach, cocks the gun and hands it to him. He takes careful aim over the lake. The crowd hushed. Anticipation. Suddenly, from over the trees to the right, flies a squawking duck. BLAM! The shotgun goes off. A wad of bark flies off of a tree. The recoil nearly knocks the tipsy shooter off his feet but several of the men catch him and shove him back upright. The crowd roars with laughter. Whistles, cat-calls. The girls at the scoreboard begin jumping up and down and shaking their pom poms but stop when they realize he missed. The squawking duck flies out of sight.

BURT

Hey hoss. You're supposed to be shootin ducks, not sweetgums.

More laughter.

SOMEONE IN THE CROWD

Hey Lester, we make pulpwood at the mill, not out here!

More laughter. Shocked, Matt can’t believe his eyes. The attendant reloads the gun and hands it to Lester. Again, careful aim. Again, anxious anticipation. Suddenly, someone standing just behind Lester leans forward and shouts...

MAN BEHIND LESTER

SHOOT!

BLAM! The gun goes off. Lester recoils but this time, braced by the black man, he holds his balance. He's really pissed as he shoots at thin air. Over the trees, another squawking duck flies by. The crowd roars with laughter. Even Burt doubles over. Red in the face, Lester turns to face his hecklers. Burt steps in.

BURT

(Between fits of laughter) Alright now... Hold it down... we’re here to have fun... let’s not have all our fun at once... OK? OK. One shot left Lester. Course, there’s still lots of trees...

More laughter. Matt’s speechless. He’s never imagined such a spectacle. Lester gives Burt the evil eye, and slowly looks over the crowd, which falls silent. This time, he takes the gun with authority. Steps up with it half raised.

LESTER

Let er go!

EXT. SMALL DOCK ON OTHER LAKE – DAY One of the black men seen earlier by Matt, surrounded by the caged ducks, hands one of the ducks to the other man who heaves it into the air. It fly’s over the trees. EXT. PAVILION DECK – DAY Another terrified duck flies over the trees winging as hard as it can. Lester raises the gun, takes aim, and fires. BLAM! The shot hits the duck. Feathers fly and it falls lifelessly into the water. Music plays. The scoreboard light up. The girls dance and wave their pom poms. A hardy cheer goes up from the crowd. Beaming, Lester takes a bow. Behind him a dog jumps into the lake and swims out to retrieve the duck.

BURT

Alright! That’s more like it. Number 32. One point.

The girl puts a mark next to the number 32 on the scoreboard.

BURT

Maybe we should give him some credit for the tree.

Laughter and friendly slaps on the back as Lester makes his way back into the crowd.

BURT

Alright sweetie, spin the wheel?

The girl gives the wheel another spin. Matt’s in turmoil. He’s appalled by the event, but this is his job, his career. He doesn’t know what to do. He can only watch helplessly as the show goes on. Lassiter glances at him. Senses his distress.

LASSITER

Are you alright?

Matt shakes his head affirmatively. Lassiter studies him critically.

BURT

Lucky number 7! Step right up.

Another man makes his way through the crowd towards the shooting area. It’s Jimbo. The crowd roars it's approval. As he reaches the shooting deck he turns and faces the group.

JIMBO

Alright you bunch of pussies, let me show you how it’s done in Texas.

Cat-calls, whistles.

SOMEONE CALLS OUT

It’s gittin deep in here.

SOMEONE ELSE

Yeah, an we’re outside!

Laughter. Jimbo gives the group a big grin. The attendant hands him a gun. He raises it chest high. A bird flies over the trees into range. He aims, tracks, fires. BLAM! A direct hit. Feathers fly. The bird falls lifelessly into the water. The dog jumps in to retrieve it. The crowd cheers. The scoreboard lights up. The band strikes up, and the girls dance and wave their pom poms.

BURT

Looks like those Texas boys know how to shoot more than bull after all.

Scattered laughter. The girl puts a mark next to number 7 on the scoreboard.

SOMEONE CALLS OUT

Fifty bucks says you can’t do it again.

Jimbo glances over his shoulder.

JIMBO

It’s yore money.

The attendant hands him a gun. He raises it chest high, waiting. A bird flies over the trees into sight. BLAM! Another direct hit. The scoreboard lights up, band plays, girls dance, everyone cheers. Another mark next to his name. Jimbo’s having a ball. Before he takes the gun again, he turns back to the crowd.

JIMBO

Anybody wanna make it a hunnert? (Waits) Come on you wussies. Anybody.

BURT

Must be somebody out there who’ll call his bluff. Do I here a hundred?

Someone in the crowd waves his hand in the air.

MAN IN CROWD

I’ll make it a hundred.

BURT

We’ve got a hundred. Do I hear two?

ANOTHER MAN IN CROWD

Two!

BURT

We’ve got two. Do I hear three?

JIMBO

(Protests) Now wait just a damn minute...

Carpenter steps forward.

CARPENTER

Five hundred.

Hoots and cat-calls from the crowd. Jimbo looks back at Carpenter.

JIMBO

Awright mister high roller. Five hunnert dollars and dinner at Turtle Creek in “Big D.” Are we on?

Carpenter nods, a sly grin on his face. The grin slightly unnerves Jimbo. He takes one last glance at Carpenter before he readies for the next bird. A duck flies over the trees, winging hard for safety. Jimbo aims, leads him... BLAM! A hit but the duck is only winged. It flutters into the water where it frantically flaps it’s one good wing trying to escape. Jimbo spins around and calls out to Carpenter.

JIMBO

That’s five hunnert and dinner at the Turtle.

Carpenter protests.

CARPENTER

That duck’s only winged. You’ve got to kill it.

Several voices in the crowd agree.

JIMBO

Bull-shit! The bet was to hit em. There wasn’t nothin said about killin em.

The crowd begins to argue the point. EXT. LAKE - DAY Matt watches as the dog jumps in after the wounded duck. Swimming and flapping, the duck is just quick enough to stay out of reach of the dog who relentlessly pursues him. The duck is tiring and makes a frantic effort to reach the safety of a fallen tree in the lake. EXT. DECK - DAY The argument continues:

CARPENTER

You don’t get any points for winging a duck. You’ve got to kill it.

The crowd debates the issue. Burt steps in to try to restore order.

BURT

Hold it. Hold it. The rules say you get one point for a kill and one-half point for a hit.

JIMBO

We ain’t talkin points here! The bet was for a hit.

The crowd erupts in arguments, debating both sides of the issue. EXT. LAKE – DAY The duck reaches the safety of the tangled limbs of the fallen tree. The dog swims all around it but can’t penetrate the tangle of limbs and branches. A black man carrying a long pole with a hook on the end approaches the tree from the shore and begins prodding the duck, trying to scare out or gaff the quacking, terrified bird. EXT. DECK/LAKEFRONT – DAY As the arguments rage on around him, Matt swings his feet over the rail and drops to the ground. He stoically walks to the lake shore. Seeing him approach, the man with the pole backs away. Matt quietly wades chest deep into the water and digs into the tree’s branches where he finds the exhausted duck huddled against the trunk. He gently reaches in and seizes it. He retrieves the bird and, holding it closely to his chest, he walks out of the water and back up the lawn towards the pavilion. EXT. DECK – DAY

JIMBO

Well hell, I can end this argument right now. If I gotta kill it, that’s what I’ll do.

He takes another gun and turns towards the lake but he stops and stares.

JIMBO

What tha hell?

The crowd follows his gaze. A hush falls over them as they watch Matt, hugging the duck to his chest, walk up the bank. EXT. PAVILION YARD – DAY – ANGLE ON MATT Head down, Matt trudges up the lawn. He ignores the crowd as he proceeds around the building towards the lodge and his car, the duck cradled in his arms. EXT. DECK – DAY When Matt’s out of sight, the crowd begins talking again. Carpenter is concerned, and annoyed, by the turn of events. Jimbo taunts him.

JIMBO

Hey Pete! Looks like yore golden boy don’t like duck huntin. (laughs) An you’re out five-hunnert bucks! (laughs harder)

Burt takes over, calling for the next number.

BURT

Alright everybody. Alright. (waves for order) We’re gonna have to let these two gentlemen work it out for themselves. Time for the next shooter. Spin the wheel honey.

EXT. LODGE PARKING LOT – DAY Matt walks up to his car and fumbles for his keys while holding the struggling duck. Charlie spots him and hurries over.

CHARLIE

Ah’s sorry. Ah didn’t see you comin.

Matt hands the duck to Charlie.

MATT

Can you hold this a minute?

CHARLIE

Why sho.

Charlie holds the duck as Matt removes his new shirt.

CHARLIE

Whatchu gonna do wit dis here duck? You want I kin dress em out for ya... You all wet! What happened?

Matt, now in t-shirt, takes the duck from Charlie and wraps it tightly in his new shirt. Without saying a word, he gets in, puts the key in the ignition and, holding the duck while steering the car and working the gear shift, he backs out and drives away. Befuddled, Charlie watches him go, and turns shaking his head.

What God Hath Wrought - continued

We pick up with Mr. Big (Lassiter) in the mill laboratory where our hero, Matt, has made a discovery that will forever change the way paper is made.  (Apologies for any formatting problems.  I don't think it's possible to have a more fucked-up editor than Blodspot.)

10. INT. MILL LAB - DAY


Lassiter pauses for a contemplative moment, then, looking around he finds someone in the back of the group.

LASSITER

Would you mind closing the door, please?

The door is closed. He surveys the group, looking each man in the eye.

LASSITER

(continuing)

I want you all to hear this.  (pause)  What you’ve seen and heard here today is proprietary information. It is not to leave this room. You are to speak to no one about it. Is that clear? No one. Not your wife, your best friend. No one.

The group falls still.  Acknowledgement all around.

LASSITER

(continuing, to Matt)

What do you need to bring this to production?

Matt considers for a moment.

MATT

Well, the first thing I’ll need is a real working lab. A testing lab with...

He's interrupted by a loud knock on the door. An anxious young woman looks in.

YOUNG WOMAN

(to Lassiter)  Excuse me Mr. Lassiter, sir. There's an urgent phone call for you. Line one.

LASSITER

(to Matt)  Can I take it here?

Doug jumps to and pulls a phone to the center of the table.  Lassiter picks up the phone.

LASSITER

(on phone)  This is Jim.

He listens for a moment. Outwardly shocked by what he hears, he turns his back to the room as he takes in the rest of the news. The room is still. Uneasy. Sideways glances.

LASSITER

(on phone)  OK. I’ll be right there. Thanks.

He slowly places the phone back in it’s cradle and pauses for a thoughtful moment before turning and facing everyone. He’s visibly upset. He takes a deep breath.

LASSITER

There’s been an accident at the Alachua saw mill. One confirmed death and several serious injuries. A lot of damage.

The room is alarmed.

 LASSITER

(continuing)  It seems to be deliberate. A spiked tree.

At first they’re all silent, then the men start to grumble.  He raises his hand for silence.

LASSITER

Calm down. Calm down.

The room falls silent.

LASSITER

(continuing)  I appreciate your concern, but we don’t know yet who’s responsible, if anyone. It could’ve been a topper’s spike from years ago. But I promise you this, we’ll get to the bottom of it and if it was deliberate, we will use every means at our disposal to bring them to justice. (to Doug) We’d better go. Tell them to get the plane ready.

He turns his attention to Matt.

LASSITER

(continuing)  Good job son. (to Alvarez) Juan, see that he gets what he needs.

Alvarez nods. Then, Lassiter turns to face the others.

LASSITER

(continuing)  Gentlemen, thank you for your hospitality. Don’t forget what I said about keeping this thing close to the vest.

The room mumbles acknowledgment. Lassiter turns for the door, everyone makes room. He makes a quick exit, followed by Alvarez and Doug, who’s on his cell phone making arrangements for the plane.


As soon as they are gone, the room erupts in exclamations of anger. Everyone talking at once.


Matt stands silently. He looks up and catches a glimpse of the injured protester (Annie) as she and her escort, attracted by the commotion, pause on their way by to look in. Their eyes meet. Then she’s gone.


Still grumbling, the men file out of the room. Womack comes over to Matt.

WOMACK

Take my advise and git yurself a good lawyer buddy. This thing’s wurth a lot a money an you can bet yur ass they'll try to screw you out of every bit of it before it’s over with.

Matt nods, appreciative of the advise. They all straggle out of the room leaving him alone. He watches through the window as Lassiter and Alvarez get into the limo and drive off. It’s followed by Annie, being escorted down the drive to the gate.


11. LATER - EXT. PALACE SALOON - DAY (Fernandina Beach, FL)


A completely restored, British Racing Green, Triumph TR3, Matt at the wheel, pulls into a parking space in front of the Palace Saloon, a local favorite housed in an old red brick building. A sign over the door proclaims: “The Oldest Saloon in Florida.” Leaded glass windows with shutters. Saloon style swinging front doors.


Matt gets out of the car and goes inside.


12. INT. SALOON - DAY


Inside, Matt pauses, taking a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. The bar patrons are chatting, laughing, watching one of several televisions stationed around the room.


He spots Doug at the bar, who simultaneously sees him and waves him over. Matt takes a stool next to him. The bartender, (BONNIE) a shapely, 50ish, dishwater blonde interrupts a conversation with a customer and calls out to Matt.

BONNIE

What’ll it be sweetie? Your regular?

Matt nods and she pops him a Corona, stuffs a wedge of lime into it, and sets it front of him.

MATT

Thanks Bonnie.

She gives him a wink and moves back down the bar to continue her conversation. Doug shakes his head.

DOUG

(eyeing Bonnie's behind) Ummm, ummm, ummm

MATT

(interrupting) Don’t even think about it. Katie’ll skin you alive.

DOUG

I heard that. (Nods towards Matt’s beer.) Can’t understand why you keep drinkin that crap when there’s good American beer made right down the road.

MATT

Don’t get started. Not today.

Matt turns on his stool and leans back against the bar surveying the room. Doug joins him.

DOUG

Well hot shot, looks like you’ve got yourself into the big time with this bug of yours.

Matt shrugs. “Whatever”

DOUG

(continuing)

You know, you can bet they’ll try to screw you before it’s over with.

MATT

(laughs) Yeah, that’s the same thing Womack said. (pause) Well, technically, everything I do does belong to the company. They still give me a paycheck you know.

DOUG

Yeah, I know. But they better at least give you one hell of a raise.

Over their shoulder, on a wall-mounted television, a news flash comes on. The bar falls silent as everyone pauses to catch the news.


13.  ON TV SCREEN:

NEWS ANCHOR

One man was killed and several badly injured this morning at E&B International’s Alachua saw mill plant. (film footage of the site damage) (VO) It’s been determined that a spiked tree was the cause of the accident. In a letter to the Associated Press, Guardians of Diversity, a Christian environmental organization, claimed responsibility for the spiking. The report goes on to say that the Guardians regret any injury and loss of life but that the incident highlights mankind’s wonton destruction of God’s creation. Eyewitness News’ John Thompson is on the scene.

CUT TO REPORTER ON SCENE

REPORTER

That’s right, Jim. Company officials have confirmed one death and twelve injuries, two serious, at the plant when a spiked tree shattered the huge saw blade used to cut the logs. With me is plant manager, Greg Baker.

Shot of both men.

REPORTER

(continuing)

Mr. Baker, what exactly is a spiked tree?

BAKER

These terrorists drive a big iron spike into the tree. If the chain saw don’t hit it when we cut down the tree, it’s hard to tell it’s there. When the log comes through the mill an the saw hits it, all hell breaks loose...

14.  INT. SALOON – DAY - CUT TO ROUGHNECKS AT THE BAR.


The television report continues in the background. Three mill roughnecks sitting at the bar begin to grumble among themselves.

ROUGHNECK 1

Ain’t that some shit.

The others shake their heads in agreement.


Matt turns away from the TV and idly surveys the room. His eyes fall upon a group of four people seated in the corner. They’re absorbed in animated conversation. He notices that one of them is the woman who was injured at the plant. He elbows Doug.

MATT

Hey. Isn’t that the girl that got hit by the car this morning?

Doug turns to look.

DOUG

Yeah. I think it is.

MATT

She’s pretty.

DOUG

She wasn’t hurt. Just shook up a little.

A roughneck sitting next to Doug overhears the conversation.

ROUGHNECK 2

(to Doug) Did I hear yew say that’s them protesters who wuz at the plant this mornin?

DOUG

I don’t know about the others, but that’s the girl that was hit by the car.

Doug returns his attention to the television. Roughneck 2 elbows the guy next to him.

ROUGHNECK 2

That’s them protesters that wuz at the plant this mornin… over there in the corner.

ROUGHNECK 3

No shit? (He turns to look.) Hey, ain’t that Jimmy Parker?

ROUGHNECK 2

Yeah, and Willie Washington too.

ROUGHNECK 3

(Begins to get up) Let’s go over there an kick some ass for them boys in Alachua. Whatta ya say?

ROUGHNECK 2

I think that’s a damn good idea.

The three of them slide off of their stools and move towards the group.


The protestor’s table is comprised of three young men Jimmy, JOE, WILLIAM and the woman, Annie. Jimmy, a scrappy looking fellow, the group's leader, sees the men coming and stands to confront the approaching antagonists.

ROUGHNECK 3

Well looks who’s here. If it ain’t the tree-huggers.

JIMMY

We’ve got a right to our opinions just as much as you.

ROUGHNECK 3

Yeah! Well you ain’t got no right to do things that git people killed.

JIMMY

What are you talkin about?

ROUGHNECK 3

An you sure as hell ain’t got no right to fuck with my job. A lot of people in this town work at that mill, an there ain’t nobody working at Alachua right now and one of em ain’t never gonna work again.

JIMMY

We didn’t have nothing to do with that and you know it. Besides, this ain’t about Alachua. It’s about that friggin mill right here that’s been poisoning this town for years! It’s time for it to stop.

Doug shouts down the bar at Bonnie.

DOUG

Bonnie! You better get over here.

The rest of the patrons fall silent as the words at the table grow louder. Disgusted, Bonnie shakes her head and moves towards the commotion. Doug and Matt follow.


When they get there, Roughneck 3 (MAX) looms over the smaller, but not giving an inch, Jimmy. He jabs Jimmy in the chest with his finger.

ROUGHNECK 3

You little twerp. You been a pain in the ass since high school. That mill's how I feed my family and that’s how yore old man fed his, including the rest of you jerk-offs.

William, a large black man, gets to his feet and into Max’s face.

WILLIAM

Who you callin jerk-off mutha fucker!

MAX

I ain’t got no beef with you Willie.

WILLIAM

You do now.

They glare at each other.

MAX

You part of this group Willie?

WILLIAM

Maybe. What’s it to ya?

MAX

You know these tree-huggers killed a good man at the Alachua plant.

WILLIAM

What tha hell. This plant right here killed my old man.

JIMMY

(to Max) It looks like you’re still the same dumbass jock you’ve always been Max. Well I tell you what, your mill stinks! Can't you smell it?

MAX

Fuckin-A, Tweetie. Smells like money to me.

He shoves Jimmy backwards against the table which overturns, knocking Annie to the floor, a pitcher of beer spilling on her. Jimmy lunges at Max but Doug quickly gets between them and grabs him in a bear hug. He struggles but is no match for the larger Doug who holds him tight. Bonnie steps in, yelling at the Max.

BONNIE

Max, you cut this crap out right now or I'm gonna kick yore ass outta here for good.

Max hesitates.

BONNIE

(continuing)

I mean it! Back off. NOW!

DOUG

You boys heard her. Now back off. I don’t want to have to come git your asses out of jail in the mornin.

Everybody backs down. Doug lets go of Jimmy who shakes free belligerently. Bonnie takes over.

BONNIE

Now git outta here. All of you. You gonna act like school kids you can take it to the street.

Backed by Doug, she stares them down. The Roughnecks back off and leave. Max turns and points his finger at Jimmy.

MAX

Next time you ain't gonna have no skirt to hide behind dickhead.

Jimmy gives him the finger. The two glare at each other but the Roughnecks leave as Bonnie continues to stare them down. Then she turns her attention to the protestors.

BONNIE

(continuing)

And that goes for you too Jimmy. All of you. (Jerks her thumb in the direction of the door.) Out.

Jimmy, still pissed, isn't about to be told what to do but William takes him by the arm.

WILLIAM

She's right. Let's go.

Matt goes to help Annie to her feet.

MATT

You OK?

ANNIE

(Fussing with her wet clothes.) Yes, I guess so. Thank you.

The group begins gathering their things to leave. Bonnie goes back to work, speaks to an old black man who’s come out of the kitchen to see what's going on.

BONNIE

(to black man) Better git the mop bucket.

He nods and returns to the kitchen. Matt picks up Annie’s purse, wipes the beer off with his shirt sleeve and hands it to her.

ANNIE

Thank you.

The others brush past them on the way to the door.

JIMMY

Common Annie. Let's get the hell out of here.

MATT

(to Annie) Are you sure you’re OK? I mean, from this morning and all.

She nods.

ANNIE

Yeah, I’m fine.

MATT

Do you need a ride or something…

ANNIE

(still upset) No. No thanks. I’ve got a ride. Thank you.

CUT TO JIMMY who pauses at the door and looks back.

JIMMY

Annie, you coming!

CUT TO ANNIE as she touches Matt’s arm and smiles.

ANNIE

Thank you. I’m fine. Really.

She turns and follows Jimmy out the door.