Silflay Hraka

Oriental’s Tarpon Tournament is this weekend.

Some of the most-anticipated and welcome summer visitors to Pamlico County have arrived and have big game anglers chomping at the bit. Tarpon, a migratory fish that may reach a hundred pounds or more, have shown up in the brackish waters of the lower Neuse River. Their arrival will be celebrated on July 28 through 30 with the 14th Annual Oriental Rotary Tarpon Tournament. Fishermen in the contest will vie for over $22,000 in cash and prizes, as well as trophies and bragging rights.

A 12-pounder in the Cape Fear.

“I felt the weight of the fish and set the hook, then he swam around some and didn’t go far. I knew then he wasn’t a drum because a drum will run. Then he went under the water and I had to stick the rod under the water when he went beneath the boat. When I got him up, I saw it was a big flounder and had to keep my thumb on the spool to get him into the net. It scared me to death.

“I’d have died if he got away. But Brent did a good job of netting him. The fish was so big its tail was sticking out of the net.”

The Darwin Beer Can Regatta was held today.

Menhaden Alternatives

So is popping menhaden in capsule form the best way to get your daily omega-3 boost? Not necessarily. The American Heart Association (AHA) recommends that people with healthy hearts get their omega-3 fix by eating at least two servings of fatty fish every week as a source of long-chain omega-3. It also recommends eating soy, flaxseeds, walnuts, and canola and soybean oils, all of which are rich in another form of omega-3. It recommends omega-3 supplements only to people with coronary heart disease or high triglyceride levels. So if your coronary health is good, there’s probably no rush to supplement your diet with a product such as OmegaPure.

Bring it on.

“The first taste affects all the members of the body. Two spoonfuls of the liquor is a sufficient dose. If any man should exceed this, it would presently stop his breath, and endanger his life.”

The hops of Maine.

“Hops used to grow in almost every farmer’s backyard,” said John Harker of the Maine Department of Agriculture. But a downy mildew blight along the East Coast pushed hops production west, and most of the U.S. crop is now grown in the dry valleys of the Pacific Northwest.

“To my knowledge, there is no one else growing commercially” in the state, Harker said.

Rolling Rock has been sold to Anheuser-Busch, and in a week the Latrobe Brewery will be closed down for good. People are a tad upset.

It’s too bad that we live in an age where corporate executives in a “far-away land” make decisions that not only disrupt lives, but also rob a town of its history and heritage. The only thing InBev wanted to know was the fact that Rolling Rock was the only U.S.-brewed beer in its portfolio and represented less than one-half percent of its total production. Forget about the beautiful mountains, longtime mystique and grand tradition. Forget about the people, the dedicated employees who have worked at Latrobe Brewing Co. for years, some from one generation to the next. Forget about all that’s important in life. Just close the deal, close the doors and see you later.

The beer bottle is for taking liquid out of, Sir, not for putting it into.

A man, apparently drunk, was found with his penis stuck in a beer bottle at a bus station in Johor Baru, reported China Press.

It is learnt that the department is still trying to trace him.

Flat tire on the way to pick up the kids from church day camp today. Sainted Wife has started a 10-week contract job installing accounting software for some group in the Triangle, so afternoon daycare duties have fallen to me until her longer term plans kick in…i.e., the teenage down the street gets back from the beach. Today was her first day on the job, so she was careful to call; at 9:30, 10, 11:30 and 12:15, to remind me to pick up Ngnat and Scotty;

Pickup was at 12:45, and I would have been there with time to spare save for the flat. First impulse was to call Triple-A, but waiting for them to arrive and change the tire would probably take just as much time as changing it myself. As well, standing around on a public street while some other guy changes your tire…..it’s just not done. Might as well change my name to “Ineffectual Nebbish,” and start a Woody Allen fan club as do that.

So I called the wife, to let her know she’d have to pick up the kids, and I’d meet them at home. No answer. Neither was there an answer the next time I called. Nor the next 20.

I ask you. What is the point of having a cell phone if you are not going to answer it?

I addressed much the same inquiry to the street around me, albeit in somewhat more colorful language, and set about changing the tire.

Or, attempting to. I’ve had the Explorer 7 years, and in that time, I’ve never had to change the tire. The jack and tire iron were as pristine as the day they were made.

Now, as anyone who has changed tires on multiple brands of automobile knows, each has a slightly different setup when it comes to switching out a flat. The Explorer is no different. Rather than positioning the jack underneath a flat plate on the side, one puts it under the axle of the rear wheel–presuming that it’s a rear wheel that’s flat, as mine was–and raises it from there. The means that the wheel is in between you and the jack, rendering the actual operation of it almost impossible. Ford tries to make up for this by including a jack extender, so that one could presumably operate the jack while standing in the rear of the vehicle, but the brand-new still-in-the-wrapper extender that came with my Ford didn’t fit the brand new still-in-the-wrapping jack.

So, instead of turning an extended tire iron in genteel circles whilst I otherwise took my leisure at the rear, I was forced to lay down on the 95 degree asphalt, reach around the tire, jam in the tire iron, then bang my knuckles into the ground every 15 seconds or so for the interminable amount of time (about five minutes) it took to get the jack raised.

I called the wife again. No answer. I left a message wherein I explained that I’d had a car wreck and had overturned in a swamp, and that my last thoughts before the dark waters closed in over me were of her and why she could not answer the @^%@$! phone.

Once the rear was raised sufficiently I turned my attention to the spare, which had also not been touched during the entirety of my ownership of the vehicle it was attached to the bottom of. It had an ancient, grey look to it, and sagged alarmingly once it took the full weight of the truck. I estimated that, out of the 35 pounds of pressure it originally possessed, about 8 were left, so I tossed the old tire, various tools and left-over bits of bloody knuckle into the back and drove off in search of an air compressor.

I called the wife. No Answer.

3 stops later, I found one, a pay-per-air. It took quarters only, of which I had none. I gave up my measured, calm cursing and indulged myself in a bit of full on street lunatic. When the red rage cleared, I patronized the atm at the store beside the pay-per-air, agreeing sedately to pay the extra $3.50 charge for the utilization of a non-bank atm, bought a bottle of water (”No change unless you buy something, senor.”) and finally, inflated the spare.

I was now 30 minutes late. Dirty. Sweaty. Bloody. Poorer than I was just an hour ago. The phone rang in an accusatory fashion.

“The church called. Why haven’t you picked up the kids yet?”

New beer tap pours beer four times faster and increases keg yield by 30%