Solon Economou

Light at the end of Otis tunn..er..runway

2005-07-15T06:34:00.000-07:00

A new twist has arisen regarding the Pentagon's base closures that could directly affect Otis Air National Guard Base.

Closing it may not be legal. Who said, "Kill all the lawyers"? Sometimes they come up with something positive.

The general counsel of the independent commission reviewing the BRAC closings said that relocating, disbanding, or moving ANG units from one state to another could present legal problems.

After all, National Guard units, Army or Air, technically belong to the governor of each state. Pennsylvania has already filed a lawsuit against the Pentagon arguing that only the governor has the power to deactivate their ANG units.

Massachusetts Senator Ted Kennedy has raised this point regarding Otis, and other states affected by BRAC will be following suit.

The issue isn't all black and white, however. While the governor of each state "owns" its National Guard units, Pentagon dollars are involved in keeping them going.

It will be interesting to see how this new wrinkle is ironed out. I suspect that, after a tough battle--much of it just posturing and face-saving on the part of BRAC--Otis will stay.

But let's not get complacent and let down our Guard--pun intended.

P-town punks still whining

2005-07-14T09:21:00.000-07:00

The P-town hooligans who rioted and threatened life and limb on the 4th of July are still pouting and whining "police brutality." What a crock.

A total of 60,000 people converged on P-town for the fireworks. Afterward, about 2,000 punks, drinking, urinating, vomiting, and attacking cars, proceeded to cause a near riot.

A total of 36 cops, including locals, staties, and sheriff's deputies, were on hand to control this seething mess. In addition to containing the rioting punks, emergency services had to handle about 10 drug overdoses (probably part of the same wild bunch), two auto accidents, and a death. Are we to believe that these 36 overtaxed cops surrounded the 2,000 hooligans and ambushed them with overwhelming manpower? Do the math!

Now the hooligans want practically a federal investigation as to why "the big bad policeman threw me on the ground and I cut myself." Well, how else did you think he was he going to get you down to put handcuffs on you?

Or, "The big bad policeman wouldn't give me his name or badge number when I asked." Maybe he was a little busy at the time, putting cuffs on your drunken buddy. After all, there were only 36 of them up against 2,000 of you. And if your brains weren't so fried you could have read the badge number or the name tag yourself. Jeez, Louise!

One P-town selectman called for an end to the fireworks. Others called for the 4th of July fireworks to be moved to, believe it or not, Thanksgiving. These aren't just fireworks, folks, they're the traditional celebration of the independence of our country. Stop the Independence Day fireworks? What, is al Qaida recruiting in P-town?

Others suggest the P-town fireworks be jointly produced with other Cape towns to relieve the crush in P-town. No way! We don't want those drunken, urinating, vomiting, rioting hooligans in our towns.

What to do with them? On any further investigation, I'd arrest as many as possible and prosecute them to the fullest extent of the law for any and all laws they broke that night and toss their sorry butts into the slammer. Once they realize people are serious about not tolerating their irresponsible, drunken antics, they might think twice next time.

Police brutality? Sounds more like a bunch of pouting, whining crybabies to me. Again, kudos to the cops--local, state, and sheriff's office--for doing a great job under almost impossible circumstances.

Permissive society lands on Cape Cod

2005-07-07T07:37:00.000-07:00

The other night, returning from the Falmouth Heights fireworks, an ambulance came racing down from the opposite direction toward the beach. Kathy said, "Somebody probably had a heart attack." I mumbled agreement. What else could it be? The next day I read in the news that some hoodlum had knifed somebody.

This was followed up by the crazies violently rioting in Provincetown, where about 20 troublemakers with nothing better to do with their lives were arrested. Kudos to the cops for nailing some of these thugs, although we were also treated to the puerile whining of, "Why did the cops arrest me? I was just standing there?" Probably just standing there obstructing the cops from doing their jobs.

And now London is reeling from horrible terrorist attacks. Over 100 dead and over 1,000 wounded.

What a contrast. While other parts of the world deal with real and serious problems, morons on Cape Cod create problems for themselves and for the rest of us. What has happened to our near-idyllic vacationland?

The permissiveness of our society, the lack of accountability for one's personal actions, and the general apathy of the public when things get out of control have arrived on Cape Cod.

Is the problem with the cops? No, they do a pretty good job and are up against this trash all the time.

Is the problem with the courts? To some extent. Jaded judges let miscreants go with the proverbial slap on the wrist; sadistic child rapists are released on bail to rape again and to murder; etc.

Of course, that archcriminal, Public Enemy No.1, Martha Stewart, was tossed into the slammer and, when released, had to wear an electronic ankle bracelet to monitor her whereabouts, while Level III sex offenders roam freely. Hey, you wouldn't want Martha sneaking into your house and redecorating it, would you?

Yes, everything's topsy-turvy.

Is the problem with our schools? I don't know. I know some wonderfully intelligent and conscientious teachers, while others I wouldn't allow to litter-box-train my cat.

Is the problem with the families? I think this is where most of it lies. When I was a kid the family sat down to dinner together. TV came later, after homework. Now some homes are a zoo, where Mom and Dad (if there is a Dad, or a Dad who takes responsibility for his family) are too busy doing their own thing and the kids are allowed to live useless, idiotic lives yakking on cell phones or drooling in front of the boob tube.

When I was a kid, if the cops came after someone, his biggest fear would be his parents, not the police. Now, parents don't expect any accountability from their kids and rail against society and the police whenever the most heinous child is brought to answer for his atrocities. Then they sue some one and get a ghost writer to write a book.

I've got no concrete solutions. If you're a cop, stay the course. If you're a mush-minded judge, quit and sell pencils on the corner. You'll do less damage to society. The same goes for lousy teachers. As for overindulgent, irresponsible parents--where I think most of the trouble lies--I can only hope that something higher, that values better than yours, will somehow rub off on your kids somewhere along the way.

"Fizzle" goes the Pops' 4th!

2005-07-05T11:35:00.000-07:00

I didn't think it would ever happen--that the Boston Pops 4th of July celebration would become just another brazenly commercialized event appealing primarily to boob-tube idiots. Last night's "show" was just that.

Living here on the Cape, we have a choice of driving to Boston and trying to get somewhere within 1000 furlongs of the Hatch Memorial Shell, or, if we don't want to fight 200,000 other people, watch the show on television.

Last night I looked forward to it on television. Not only was I terribly disappointed, but out-of-state readers of my newspaper column e-mailed me and asked. "Where was the 1812 Overture?"

Here's what happened. The first two hours of the show were televised locally by Boston's CBS affiliate, WBZ-TV, Channel 4. The Pops played one song, then CBS/Channel 4 went into a string of commercials. Then the Pops played another song, and CBS/Channel 4 went into another string of commercials. And so on and so on.

It was one-half Pops, one-half commercials, the most brazenly annoying commercialization of anything I have seen. I am determined not to buy anything that was advertised last night. I almost turned off the TV, but decided to hang in.

Then, the Pops and the Army Chorus performed a superb rendition of Tchaikovsky's 1812 Festival Overture, but this was relatively early in the show. The concert wasn't televised nationally till 9pm Eastern time in some areas, 10pm in others.

Viewers from across the country waited in vain for the 1812, this traditional highlight of the Boston Pops 4th, and were left wondering what the heck happened --especially when some country rock character with an outfit that looked like that of the Mad Hatter from Lewis Carroll's "Alice in Wonderland" filled the screen, gyrating and singing unintelligible lyrics.

And then Keith Lockhart bragged how he brought a rock band to Symphony Hall, which is OK with me as long as I have fair warning so I don't show up that night. And then he tried to persuade us what a cool character he was. By that time my eyeballs were rolling upward in my head.

What about the latter part of the show...the fireworks? By that time I really didn't care and fell asleep. A pox on Keith Lockhart and on Channel 4. May they wise up by next year.

If there ever was a crash course on how to ruin a decades-long good thing, last night was Fizzle Goes the Boston Pops 101.

Wind farms: Poetry(???) in motion

2005-06-23T11:38:00.000-07:00

A poet I yam, I yam!

So says Jack Coleman.
How could he be wrong?
So I’ll play with your mind
By playing along.

I went off to Denmark
To follow the breeze,
To chase Danish wind farms
And absorb expertise.

And what I found there
Was beyond expectation,
Wind making energy
For a fifth of the nation.

While here in America,
That most modern of lands,
We sit on our butts,
Or at least on our hands.

A mere one percent
Of our power comes from wind,
A portion so small
That it boggles the mind.

Oh, how I long
To witness in motion
Our own wind mills turning
From ocean to ocean.

It may take a while,
To get us in shape,
But we can start now,
Right here on the Cape.

It may take a while
To bring people around
To this sound idea
Right here in our Sound.

All photos copyright 2005 Solon Economou.

The crazies are coming! The crazies are coming!

2005-06-02T06:51:00.000-07:00

Oops, they’re ba-a-a-ck already! The crazies are already here on Cape Cod, returning like clockwork, on the Memorial Day dot.

These are the nut cases who come here to party for the season, litter our streets and lawns with beer bottles and fast food cartons, subject us to a zillion decibels of ungodly noise they think is music, and endanger all living things with the lethal weapons they call their automobiles.

Oh, I know it is blasphemy to speak ill of the visitors whose money makes the Chamber of Commerce happy and is the lifeblood of many businesses, but I value more the actual lifeblood of our citizens. Too many of these nuts have no regard for human life, including their own, as funny tobacco and alcohol imbues them with an imagined aura of immortality. I wish they’d stay home, wherever home is. I’m sure their hometowns deserve them more than we.

They come in many shapes, ages, sexes, and colors. And their lethal weapons come in an even greater variety. But the typical out-of-town nut case is a guy or gal in their twenties, driving—or, more accurately, aiming--an out-of-control Jeep Wrangler, usually while gabbing on a cell phone. I suspect there is an IQ test that a twenty-something person must fail in order to qualify for a Wrangler.

What can you do besides look out for them? Getting out of the way is sometimes not an option as they will barrel right over you. I think the answer is bazookas. Yes, the good, old-fashioned 3.5-inch rocket launcher that some of us still affectionately call the “bazooka.”

I don’t know of a Wrangler yet that is bazooka-proof. Or any SUV, or sports car, or even a Hummer, unless it is up-armored. And you have to go to Iraq for those. So, yes, a bazooka will work.

Now, it takes a team of two people to properly use a bazooka—the loader and the shooter. If you’re the loader, remember to carefully load the projectile and then remove the safety clip. The bazooka isn’t armed if the safety clip is in.

If you’re the shooter, the loader will tap you on the head when the bazooka is ready to go. Remember to track and lead the Wrangler, or whichever lethal weapon the target nut case is threatening the planet with. It is harder to hit if the target is traveling perpendicular to you, because you can easily fire in front, behind, under or over it. The best thing to do is to nail it head on, right through the radiator.

A good firing position would be from the middle of the airport rotary. You can get them coming at you from all directions! Don’t worry about the nut case seeing you—he can’t go anywhere—he’s trapped in that traffic mess!

Properly prepare for this action. Get a couple of lawn chairs and relax. Perhaps a cooler with soda or beer would be good, but, for best results, I really don’t recommend the beer. Don’t forget your sun block.

Remember, too, to wear the face shield, or at least goggles, to protect yourself from the rocket exhaust when the projectile whooshes out the front of the bazooka tube. Safety is paramount.

Oh, and don’t forget to turn off your cell phone. If there’s anything worse than a nut case driving an SUV while talking on a cell phone, it’s somebody just getting ready to squeeze the trigger on a bazooka when his cell phone goes off.

What the hell—if we can’t get away from the nut cases, at least we can have a little fun with ‘em, can’t we? Hmmm? Happy hunting.

Cape boxing returns, if you feel like standing

2005-05-21T12:14:00.000-07:00

For the second year in a row, Dave Gonsalves, Sr., of Dave’s Gym in South Dennis, has brought a worthwhile boxing card to the Sheraton in Hyannis.

For the second year in a row, he has expected people to stand for three or four hours unless they pay exorbitant prices for the convenience of a seat. This is the only professional boxing venue I have seen – and I have attended the gamut from championship fights to local starters—where seating is not offered as a customary part of the price of admission.

The general admission, standing, is $25. To sit down is $50. And to sit down at ringside is $75. These are stiff prices, considering I’ve gotten ringside seats at the Melody Tent for $50, featuring nationally known boxers in matches televised live on ESPN’s Friday Night Fights. And I’ve attended world-famous championship fights for less.

C’mon, Dave, if you’ve got to charge excessive prices, at least get enough seats for the ample floor space. If the Sheraton doesn’t have them, rent folding chairs from funeral homes. Some will be glad to offer them gratis, since they get advertising from their names stenciled on the back.

The nonsense of standing up aside, I did get to see two of my favorite local boxers and friends, Mike Kombaris and Jay Pina, win their fights.

Mike, who is Greek-Irish, had to win since I brought my Irish companion, Kathy, to the fight. I told her he was fighting for us, one fist Greek, the other Irish.

Mike got cut near the eye from a head butt or elbow in the second round. His corner closed it, but if it had opened up again, he would have been in danger of the referee calling the fight. He had to finish his opponent, Rod Jacobs, in the third round. And Mike came through gloriously, winning with a knockout in the third. An excellent finish to an excellent fight.

Jay, at 41 years of age, faced a 27-year-old Don Labbe from Lewiston, Maine. Both fighters traded punishing blows for nine rounds. I was surprised that neither went down. Both seemed out of steam by the tenth round.

Jay was holding back his left arm, which I learned later was injured and a source of pain for him throughout the fight. But he came out in the tenth and immediately took command with a flurry of blows that left Labbe unable to defend himself. The referee rightly called it, for a knockout and a Jay Pina victory in the tenth round.

Two great fights. Congratulations, Mike and Jay. I’m looking forward to your next matches. But, Dave, only if you decide to do the right thing and get some seats. Expecting people to stand is ridiculous.

Meet the kiss of death

2005-05-14T09:34:00.000-07:00

The kiss of death--that's me--to military bases. Fort Monmouth NJ, Fort Monroe VA, Fort Eustis VA are all on the base closing list. Those three bases are where I served most of my active duty time.

Parts of the old Fort Devens MA, Westover AFB MA, and Fort Knox KY will be closed, reduced, or realigned, whatever that means. I served there, too. I must be the kiss of death for military bases.

I logged onto the Department of Defense's BRAC report web page to see what other mayhem I may have inadvertently caused just by being there. But if you've ever tried to get any real, direct, concise, easily located information out of a government report, you'd know why I just gave up trying to wade through the red tape and rigmarole.

Of course, I also spent a lot of time in the Pentagon on weekly visits riding rickety, overaged, Vietnam-era Huey helicopters, which gave me much-needed prayer time wondering when the "Jesus bolt" would pop out and we'd all go hurtling to our deaths without even the benefit of auto-rotation. But my kiss of death apparently did not extend to the hallowed halls of the Pentagon.

Some of the base closings make sense, but many don't. There's an old saw in the military that says, "Reorganization creates the illusion of progress. So when you can't show progress, reorganize." And that's what Rumsfeld and the Pentagon boys trying to keep their stars still glued to their shoulders are doing.

When I was serving on the General Staff at the Army's Training and Doctrine Command and some genius came up with the idea to once again reorganize, I did more eye-rolling then than ever before or since in my life. But, boy, it kept a lot of idiots busy thinking they were making some kind of progress.

Locally, of course, we're reeling over the closing of Otis. Much has been written, said, reported about the pros and cons of closing it. Much of it centers around cost. Give me a break--we've been reorganizing for years. Have military costs ever gone down? Most of the reorganizations, if not all of them, have eventually ended up costing us more money. And how many wars have bean-counters won, anyway?

Much of the controversy over Otis and other bases centers around mission-orientation. Missions have generally been oriented toward the cold war; now they must be oriented toward rogue states and terrorists. And therein lies our biggest problem.

We, the greatest and most powerful nation on the planet, sit and wait to find ourselves reacting to outside threats instead of acting and forcing outside threats to react to us. We have to take the initiative and prepare for all eventualities, not just the latest and nastiest like the oil-soaked, robed butchers of the Middle East and their bloodthirsty minions.

Does anyone really think that ex-KGB officer Vladimir Putin is looking forward to allowing true democracy in his part of the world? Have you listened to him talk lately? Maybe old Vlad envisions himself molding a new Mother Russia with himself cast as another Peter the Great or Ivan the Terrible . But in neither case is democracy a factor.

We can't realign our entire defense structure to focus only on the latest threat, like little kids reacting to the latest bogeyman, when old threats can pop up again just like those groundhogs in the carnival games. And we've got to do some implied heavy threatening of our own lest these enemies of freedom, wherever and whoever they are, entertain any ideas of stepping out of line.

Our Otis F-15s are heading for New Jersey and Florida. Will they be able to help the Northeast USA effectively from there? I doubt it. I guess Rumsfeld and the Pentagon boys could have done worse -- at least they didn't decide to put them in a cornfield in Omaha.

What happens if an old threat rears its ugly head again? Do we run around like chickens with our heads cut off and re-re-reorganize? We have to prepare for all eventualities, not just the latest craze in crazies.

Personally, I think it was a great mistake to put Otis on the chopping block, and not just for our local economy, but for our national defense. In fact, I would like to see the base retained and additional squadrons added.

I believe in a lot of visible power, scaring the hell out of any potential enemy, even if we never use it. In fact, that would be the greatest deterrent to our ever having to use it. I don't mind a few extra tax dollars going to this use. Don't we waste billions already on totally inane pork-barrel projects and on social engineering experiments that, at the very best, eventually come to conclusions that even a kindergartener with a little common sense already knows?

I expect that Messrs. Kennedy, Kerry and Delahunt will do everything within their power to keep Otis a viable part of our defense structure. I'll be keeping a close eye on them and on the genuineness of their efforts.

But there is another reason Otis should be kept open. I never served there. That alone should be reason enough.

Man struck blind at West Dennis beach!

2005-05-11T13:21:00.000-07:00

That headline hasn’t appeared yet—but it’s a tragedy just waiting to happen. The season of dread and fear is once more upon us—the season when we are treated to furlongs of varicose veins and acres of cellulite bulging out of teeny weenie bikinis that should be reserved for svelte, beautiful blondes who will probably die in auto accidents in Saab convertibles because they drive while yakking on their cell phones.

People always say, “Europe is ahead of us” in things like wind power, wireless computer networks, etc. Well, Europe was ahead of us in this frightful visual phenomenon, which spread to Florida and California and now to Cape Cod.

I first encountered it on a beach near Athens years ago, where a 300-lb woman came tearing across the sand toward the water in a bikini about the size of a Kleenex tissue. Before I could recover from the sight, her 300-lb husband came chugging along right behind her in a Speedo. If I were not logy from the sun and from sloshing down Campari on ice, I might have drowned myself in the Aegean right then and there. Memory of the sight terrifies me to this day.

It’s only May, and the season has already begun on Cape Cod. I encountered the first manifestation of this frightening phenomenon this week while out and about on my daily errands. It was a man in shorts—with legs that would scare the machete-wielding, goalie-masked Jason right into Saturday the 14th.

On one end of these legs was an abdomen that had long forgotten the term “six-pack” and was now working on “keg o’ bock.” On the other end were ugly feet bedecked in Docksiders, no socks of course. Hmmm…one of the Osterville elite trying to show the world that he’s a true yachtsman?

Every year on the Cape, and especially at the beach, it’s the same story. Only it is getting progressively worse. Some women—and men—have no pity for their fellow man. Instead of choosing a bathing suit that will complement their figure (or cover it), they choose a bathing suit designed for Barbie or Ken. What is wrong with a good old-fashioned one-piece suit? Or one with those frills on the bottom that blend in with the cellulite?

What these people don’t realize is, aside from doing nothing at all to enhance their own image, they subject the rest of us to sights that can permanently damage our optic nerves or, in some cases, cause acute post-traumatic stress disorder.

I would like to offer two suggestions:

One, on West Dennis Beach there is a section and parking area reserved for Dennis residents. Can we not, adjacent to this area, create a special section where only women and men sculpted like Barbie and Ken can bask in the sun in bikinis and Speedos?

And two, what about those who are built like Dumbo and still insist upon wearing these revealing outfits? Leper bells! Yes, leper bells—make them wear leper bells around their necks, as in days of old, so that we can hear them coming and not inadvertently gaze in their direction. Either that, or I may have to dig up the polished shield of Perseus to ensure I do not gaze directly on these modern-day Medusas.

See you at West Dennis Beach.

Paying the gonorrhea tax

2005-05-07T11:09:00.000-07:00

As Dave Barry liked to say, "I'm not making this up." The government wants to tax gonorrhea. Do you have gonorrhea? Do you want to pay a tax on it?

Well, they don't plan to tax it directly--that would be impossible to regulate and would undoubtedly cause a disproportionate rise in the personal taxes of those very legislators who espouse this hare-brained idea. No, they want to accomplish this by increasing the tax on beer. That’s right, b-e-e-r.

How did this come about? The Centers for Disease Control in Atlanta has discovered an inverse statistical correlation between the incidence of gonorrhea and the tax on beer. Specifically, they claim that an increase in tax of 20 cents on a six-pack of beer would lead to a decrease in gonorrhea by 9 percent.

They’ve reasoned that teenagers drinking a lot of beer are more likely to engage in sex, thereby increasing the incidence of gonorrhea. Duh! I wonder how much that study cost us?

Ogden Nash said it more succinctly 50 years ago: “Candy is dandy, but liquor is quicker.”

They speculate that by making beer more expensive with a tax increase, teenagers will afford less of it, thereby decreasing their tendency to succumb to temptation and to contract gonorrhea.

Their study correlates increases in alcohol taxation policies in all states from 1981 to 1995 with a drop in gonorrhea rates among young people.

While I don’t doubt the correlation, I strongly question its cause and effect. The beer tax-gonorrhea correlation could have come about in many ways.

It could be just plain coincidence. But more than likely, the decrease in gonorrhea is the result of better education and increased fear, leading to safer sex, because of the advent of devastating diseases such as AIDS and herpes type II, which have come into prominence during the very period of the CDC study.

But that conclusion would involve plain old common sense. And a lot fewer taxpayer dollars to arrive at it.

The alarming thing is how quickly some politicians are ready to jump on any bandwagon in order to add another tax, no matter how spurious the reason. And once a tax is added, even a “temporary” tax, you can just fuggadaboutit.

Instead of more taxes, let the legislators do what any good business does -- reduce their programs and trim their own overhead. But, again, that would require plain old common sense. And integrity. Two qualities that do not appear to exist in abundance in any legislative body.

If we don’t demand fiscal responsibility and some semblance of sanity from our federal and state governments, we will wind up, like Atlas, carrying the world on our shoulders.

And, worse, we will eventually leave ourselves open to paying the gonorrhea tax. Even if we don’t have gonorrhea.

Of course, I'm just speaking for myself. I don't know about you.

Otis under the gun--again

2005-04-19T17:30:00.000-07:00

Seems like old times--Jack Coleman reports the news, I render an opinion.

It's folly to close the base, as the military will eventually find out if they get down to the wire on Otis. But the first thing to ask regarding any such scheme is, Cui bono? Who profits? We'll get to that in a sec.

I personally have been through four threats to close a base and have seen one closing come down around the head of a friend who was base commandant.

There are many reasons to propose--or threaten--a base closing. Usually the local pols will rise up to support maintaining the base because it is important to the job base and the economy of their district. So it's conceivable that a) an unofficial quid-pro-quo deal could materialize in which the Pentagon gets something it wants from Congress if the base closing is dropped, or b) the base is no longer important in the military scheme of things, or c) while important, it is not cost-effective to maintain the base any longer.

Of course, reasons (b) and (c) are always given, but I wouldn't overlook (a) or some other even more nefarious scheme.

While I was stationed in Virginia, at Forts Monroe and Eustis, each year for four years the closing of Fort Monroe was threatened. Each year we argued against it and kept the base open. But in that last year, we were losing the battle until the entire government woke up and asked, "If we close it, what do we do with it?"

When the decision was tentatively made to close, the government woke up and found it was less expensive to keep it open! Fort Monroe is a historical fort, designed by a young Army Corps of Engineers Lieutenant named Robert E. Lee, complete with gun emplacements, ramparts and moat, and designed to guard the sea approaches to Norfolk, Virginia.

It is ironic that, later on, during the Civil War, its dungeons housed General Robert E. Lee's comander-in-chief, Jefferson Davis, President of the Confederacy. It is further ironic that Union President Abraham Lincoln himself, in a house on Fort Monroe, helped plan the assault on Norfolk, which was held by the Confederates. Visit the "Lincoln House" when you go there.

Stick with me--all this history is relevant. When the tentative decision was made to close the base, it was offered to the National Parks Service as a national or historical monument or some such thing. A quick cost analysis showed they couldn't afford to run it! Nobody could--the cost of maintaining the historical houses and the resulting empty buildings was prohibitive. The least expensive option was for the Army to keep operating there--they were using the buildings and already maintaining them on a daily basis.

Also, Fort Monroe is the headquarters of the Army's major Training and Doctrine Command. They would still have had to move TRADOC elsewhere, and then what?

That was 25 years ago. Fort Monroe is still there, but I wouldn't be surprised if they still have to go through this drill and reinvent the wheel every year.

The base closing that happened to a friend of mine involved the beautiful Presidio in San Francisco. He was stationed with me at Fort Monroe, and we comprised two-thirds of a three-man organization which essentially brought post-Vietnam-era Army training into the 20th century. Or so we still fervently hope. I got out; he was rewarded by being given command of the Presidio. Then the Army closed it.

I remember watching him being interviewed on CBS News, and some nitwit reporter asking him some inane question regarding the base closing. "I don't know," he replied, "I've never been through a base closing before." He quickly put the alpha and the omega to the reporters' questions.

So the Presidio, as far as I know, has the main purpose now of being the site of its wonderful golf course. Cui bono? Golfers, anyway.

Back to Otis. First, Otis's geographic position on Cape Cod, thrust out into the Atlantic, gives it the unique advantage of hosting fighter planes that can go up and intercept threats over the ocean, before they even reach our highly populated eastern seaboard. The 102nd Fighter Wing has this mission--from Canada to Washington, D.C.

Second, where else would you locate PAVE PAWS, with its mission of detecting air and space threats to the United States from over the Atlantic? That cornfield in Iowa won't work.

Then there are jobs and the Cape economy, then there is the possibility of establishing Homeland Security's Northeast Regional Training Center there, etc. etc.

Yes, the costs of maintaining the base may have increased, but the reasons for maintaining it are overriding. So, if they close it, what do they do with it? And, cui bono?

Pardon my cynicism, but there's an awful lot of land there--land that could contain an awful lot of condos and greens and fairways. And I have already heard ugly rumors that certain developer cronies of certain pols are looking at it with avaricious eyes. Of course, I can't see putting septic systems or golf courses, which use tons of fertilizer annually, anywhere near our beloved aquifer.

But maybe others can. And maybe the outcry won't be so loud from our local dissidents if they don't have the military at whom to take their potshots.

If Otis closes, I see a major corrupt land grab taking place. But only time will tell. Oh, and it may be interesting to see which pols come to the defense of Otis and which ones remain silent.

What's hot and what's not on the road

2005-04-16T12:13:00.000-07:00

The other day, while I was out and about on the Cape, I spied two pulchritudinous blondes in a dark blue Saab 9-3 Aero Convertible tooling down Route 132 from the Mall to the Airport Rotary.

What's hot? Two blondes that looked as if they were from the Swedish Bikini Team in a Saab convertible. Tell me, have you ever seen a bad-looking blonde in a Saab convertible? Have you ever seen a bad-looking brunette in a Saab convertible? The answer to both questions is: no. It seems beautiful women and Saab convertibles go together.

I watched them at first in my rear-view mirror, one eye on the road ahead and the other on my mirror. They were gorgeous. I must admit I almost had an accident, maybe two. Then I noticed they were both talking on cell phones.

First one talked, and the other laughed. Then the other talked, and the first one laughed. They repeated this a few times, and as they pulled up beside my open window at the rotary, I discovered they were talking to each other! They were sitting next to each other in the front seat of the Saab, talking to each other on their cell phones and just having a mindless ball!

Oh, how their pedestal crumbled! Oh, how my fantasy faded!

What's not hot? Two blondes that looked as if they were from the Swedish Bikini Team in a Saab convertible talking on cell phones. And to each other! Maybe it's true that cell phones fry your brain cells, because here were two examples of extremely marginal brain function driving beside me on the open road.

People who drive and talk on their cell phones endanger everyone on the road--and probably on the sidewalk, too. I don't know if I'm paranoid, but whenever I see them I feel that they're personally trying to kill me.

The scariest is the soccer mom in her van full of innocent kids trying to aim (I hesitate to use the word "steer" here) her van with one hand while fully distracted with her cell phone in the other. For some reason their brain cells have lost the faculty of depth perception and they drive two inches away from my rear end. I feel like yelling, "Madame, we haven't been properly introduced!"

Almost as scary is the 80-year-old woman who has shrunk to under five feet in height driving a behemoth of an SUV that her yuppie son bought her to protect her in the accident she surely will have. I had one on my tail the other day. She couldn't even see over the steering wheel; she was looking through it. Here was a woman who was probably having trouble controlling her walker, trying to drive an SUV as large as an M-1 Main Battle Tank. And talking on her cell phone at the same time!

Am I picking on women? No, it's just that women talk on the phone more than men. I see three scary cell-phone women drivers for every scary cell-phone male driver. And that scary cell-phone man is usually the unctuous salesman type who bought his mother the supersized SUV and is trying to get a date with the mindless blonde in the Saab.

There really oughtta be a law against talking on your cell phone while driving your car. In some states there is. Perhaps people in those states believe in the sanctity of life more than they do in the sanctity of endless yakking on cell phones. Or maybe they're tired of struggling against stupidity and have decided to just legislate against it. I don't know.

I only know we will pass such a law sooner or later. I do hope it's sooner.

From Cape Cod to Fenway Park

2005-04-13T08:35:00.000-07:00

Here we go again! The price of our favorite American pastime continues to go through the roof.

First it's mediocre bonus babies, who couldn't even compete in the Parks League in which I played as a kid in Worcester, getting millions of bucks to play disappointing ball for a couple of years before fading into deserved oblivion. They drove ticket prices through the roof. But the fans, who continue to whine and whine, kept on paying and paying.

Now the big flap is over the avaricious enterpreneurs around Fenway who are clipping people for up to a hundred bucks for a parking space. I thought fifteen bucks was--and is--a ripoff.

Boston's mayor wants to put a legal lid on parking fees, but we've got so much legislation on so many things, it is beyond dizzying. The problem that I see is in the fans who are willing to pay these fees--along with those exorbitant ticket prices which make multimillionaires out of guys who couldn't pass the MCAS and who will walk away from the game without any of the dedication or contribution of a Ted Williams or a Joe DiMaggio.

I've got two solutions. The first is not to drive into Boston. Drive to Braintree, where you can park and take the MBTA Red Line into the city. If you get off at Park Street, at Boston Common, you can walk to Fenway, which is only one or two miles away. Just head down Boylston or Commonwealth and eventually you'll bump into Fenway or the milling crowds looking for a hundred-dollar parking space. And the Red Line charges only about $2.50 for the trip into Boston.

My lady friend took the Red Line to Harvard three nights a week for a couple of years to earn her master's in psychology. If she could do it, so can you. (What's she doing with me? Hey, I'm getting the long-term psychotherapy rate!)

My second suggestion is not to go at all. Unlike the rest of New England, we're extremely lucky on the Cape to have the famous Cape Cod League. These kids are outstanding college players hopefully on their way to the majors. Among the League alumni are Nomar Garciapara and Mo Vaughan and many other famous names in the game. There are games every night during the summer, and the cost is--nil. A contribution is fine. Many people give a buck or two, some don't bother. It's up to you.

But the ball playing is superb. When was the last time you saw a a major-league player make a running dive for a ball in the outfield and risk hurting his million-dollar shoulder? You will see this in the Cape Cod League. You'll also see major league scouts at the games, checking out the next bonus babies. I only hope that when they make it they love the game enough to remember why they're there.

So, my two suggestions are: 1) If you must go to Fenway, take the Red Line from Braintree, and then walk a mile or two. It'll do you good. And it may save you a hundred bucks. 2) Don't go at all--attend the Cape Cod League ballgames instead, which, on many occasions, are just as good as the major league games.

One caveat--check with the MBTA on that last run back to Braintree. Their schedule says "till closing," but when the heck is that? On those extra-inning games, you may have to sleep at the park or, like that poor guy in the song, "ride forever 'neath the streets of Boston."

Have fun. As for me, I'll see you at the ballpark--on the Cape.

What's hot and what's not in radio

2005-04-11T13:26:00.000-07:00

Three local radio stations rate a brief review--two that're hot and one that's not.

Station WXTK, at 95.1 on your FM dial, is hot. This talk-show station features Ed Lambert and Don McKeagh every weekday morning from 7 to 10. They dissect the news, and sometimes the news makers, and sometimes the news media. And sometimes they vivesect them. (That smarts!)

Whichever side you may be on with regard to any particular issue, or whichever side they are on, Lambert and McKeagh stimulate community discussion by raising relevant issues and stirring the pot for even lackadaisical listeners. If you haven't tuned in to them yet, start today for lively discussion on timely topics in the news.

Station WOCN, 103.9 on your FM dial, is not. This was my favorite music station, number one on my dial, with its intelligent blend of sophisticated ballads and swing. It captured a large part of a major Cape Cod audience, retirees who enjoy Glenn Miller, Benny Goodman, Duke Ellington, Frank Sinatra and Tony Bennet.

Now it has changed its format and plays the same banal gar-bahge as all the other 10,000 pop music stations in the area. Oh, they toss in a little Sinatra on weekends, probably because some one over there still has some common sense left.

From commanding a large part of the Cape Cod listening pie, it has apparently settled for a sliver, just like the countless hordes of other pop radio stations that sound just like it. Somebody flunk the MCAS math exam?

Instead of WOCN, I now listen to WMOR out of Provincetown, at 92.1 on your FM dial, which is hot. They have the most eclectic blend of music I've heard anywhere, from opera to jazz to bluegrass. They operate with a pretty weak signal, so you won't always be within listening range, but when you are, they're worth it.

That's it for now. Let's see, what'll it be next? TV stations? Cell phone users? Volvo drivers? I'll keep you posted.