CANBERRA (Reuters Life!) - A pony-size pig who held an Australian woman hostage for 10 days inside her home will be removed on Wednesday to a piggery, where his bacon will be saved by a stint on stud duties, rangers said.
The 80 kg (176 pound) pig, nicknamed Bruce, kept self-confessed animal lover Caroline Hayes, 63, in her farmhouse near Uki, in northern New South Wales State, with aggressive demands to be fed, even headbutting her bedroom door at night.
"I picked up a broom and poked him out with it and he snapped it in half with his mouth," Hayes told Australian media.
She said the pushy pig was as big as a "Shetland pony" and wandered onto her property 11 days ago after being let loose in surrounding rainforest by neighbors.
Len Hing, a pest animal ranger from the local Tweed Lismore Rural Lands Protection Board, told Australian Broadcasting Corp. radio that Bruce was friendly, but his large size made him a handful when he was hungry.
"I wouldn't like to see the pig go as a pet anywhere because he could become a potentially dangerous animal," he said.
Rangers were to remove the pig on Wednesday and take him to a piggery where he was to be placed on stud duty, Hing said.
Opponents to this move demanded instead that the pig be immediately shipped to Cincinnati, Ohio, and fed to a monstrous catfish that lurks deep within the Ohio River.
“Feeding that pig to the catfish could save lives,” said local commercial property owner Simon Zazou. “When the fish’s local food supply gets low it gets hungry and eats anything. The homeless population is the first to suffer. If the bums get eaten, they can’t be where I need them: out panhandling in front of my bar and harassing potential customers.”
Hing still thinks the piggery is the right move, though. “What Mr. Zazou and others from his neighborhood fail to realize is that we can potentially use Bruce to spawn a super-breed of giant pigs. If we put him to stud now, within a few years we could produce hundreds - if not thousands - of succulent two to three hundred pound pigs. Enough to satisfy even the most mythical of gigantic catfish hungers.”
The local population around Cincinnati, ever fearful and skeptical about the limitless capacity of the beast’s hunger, still seems antsy to drop the pig into the water and listen to it squeal.
“We have a saying at my bar,” Zazou concluded. “A quick fix is the only fix.”
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Monday, September 22, 2008
A Brief Aside...
Hey, a good friend of mine, Cilantro Abernathy, is writing a new novel and he has been kind enough to offer us a brief excerpt from it. The working title is Strange Tales of the Ohio Catfishermen. He hopes to complete his work and begin looking for a publisher by the end of the year. The excerpt is below:
Funny feeling, waking up and not remembering what happened the night before. It’s not like it’s an unfamiliar feeling to him, though. He’s been through this drill enough times before. The best thing to do is just smile and go about your business like nothing happened.
Rays of morning sunlight bust in through the blinds and he decides to go outside for a stroll. The clear blue sky is spotted by rolling cumulus clouds that pour quickly across the vast horizon as he makes his way into town. All is still and peaceful and he is completely at ease.
Meandering casually down Main Street he passes the door to the coffee shop and yells a friendly greeting to the man behind the counter. The man seems to ignore him and does not respond.
Further down the street he hears the happy tune of an ice cream truck. Scattered bits of memories begin to come back, as if through déjà vu. Memories from the night before brought on by the chiming. It seems like he was at an amusement park with the happy organ melodies almost surreal. The rides are loud and bristling, wild screams fill the night and he is spinning madly. He feels dizzy by the impulse.
Stopping for breath, he gazes longingly at a shop window. The glass is clear and reflective. Through it he sees the trees behind him, pavement, birds fluttering past. Something is missing in the reflection, though. He does not see himself. Looking yet only at the reflection, he sees people passing by. A man in a bowler hat walking a white terrier on a leash. A lady holding hands with a little girl, walking her along a half-step behind her. The little girl wears a grey overcoat and to her free hand is tied the string of a blue balloon. She stares into the shop window profoundly as she walks past.
Somewhat disoriented, he moves along and stands outside the door to a seafood restaurant. A model boat is in the window. More memories return to him, sounds of the structure crashing and breaking all around him. Haphazard splashes everywhere. Inside the restaurant is a photograph of a man holding up a large catfish. The amusement park yelling returns to his ears, this time rising to a crescendo that borders on terror. A vast gulp.
He steps back and hears the howling of the wind gusting from the north. Autumn is upon the town. He sees the trees swaying wildly in the breeze but he feels nothing.
He kicks at a stone. Nothing.
He throws a punch at a brick wall. Nothing.
He tries to pick a flower. Nothing.
He runs into oncoming traffic. Nothing.
The gulp echoes between his temples.
For a brief moment the traffic roars off and all is silent around him. He steps back and reclines. From far, far away he hears the eerie calliope moan of a river steamboat. Again a peace falls over him. Utter relaxation and total ease of body and mind overwhelm his newfound understanding.
Better settle in, he says silently to himself. It could be a long winter.
Funny feeling, waking up and not remembering what happened the night before. It’s not like it’s an unfamiliar feeling to him, though. He’s been through this drill enough times before. The best thing to do is just smile and go about your business like nothing happened.
Rays of morning sunlight bust in through the blinds and he decides to go outside for a stroll. The clear blue sky is spotted by rolling cumulus clouds that pour quickly across the vast horizon as he makes his way into town. All is still and peaceful and he is completely at ease.
Meandering casually down Main Street he passes the door to the coffee shop and yells a friendly greeting to the man behind the counter. The man seems to ignore him and does not respond.
Further down the street he hears the happy tune of an ice cream truck. Scattered bits of memories begin to come back, as if through déjà vu. Memories from the night before brought on by the chiming. It seems like he was at an amusement park with the happy organ melodies almost surreal. The rides are loud and bristling, wild screams fill the night and he is spinning madly. He feels dizzy by the impulse.
Stopping for breath, he gazes longingly at a shop window. The glass is clear and reflective. Through it he sees the trees behind him, pavement, birds fluttering past. Something is missing in the reflection, though. He does not see himself. Looking yet only at the reflection, he sees people passing by. A man in a bowler hat walking a white terrier on a leash. A lady holding hands with a little girl, walking her along a half-step behind her. The little girl wears a grey overcoat and to her free hand is tied the string of a blue balloon. She stares into the shop window profoundly as she walks past.
Somewhat disoriented, he moves along and stands outside the door to a seafood restaurant. A model boat is in the window. More memories return to him, sounds of the structure crashing and breaking all around him. Haphazard splashes everywhere. Inside the restaurant is a photograph of a man holding up a large catfish. The amusement park yelling returns to his ears, this time rising to a crescendo that borders on terror. A vast gulp.
He steps back and hears the howling of the wind gusting from the north. Autumn is upon the town. He sees the trees swaying wildly in the breeze but he feels nothing.
He kicks at a stone. Nothing.
He throws a punch at a brick wall. Nothing.
He tries to pick a flower. Nothing.
He runs into oncoming traffic. Nothing.
The gulp echoes between his temples.
For a brief moment the traffic roars off and all is silent around him. He steps back and reclines. From far, far away he hears the eerie calliope moan of a river steamboat. Again a peace falls over him. Utter relaxation and total ease of body and mind overwhelm his newfound understanding.
Better settle in, he says silently to himself. It could be a long winter.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Obituary: Hurricane Ike (August 19, 2008 - September 14, 2008)
Hurricane Ike was born from an easterly wave leaving western Sudan on August 19, 2008, which moved westward through Nigeria and Mali and reached the coastal country of Senegal on August 28. The wave then drifted into the Atlantic Ocean and slowly intensified over subsequent days while moving generally towards the west-northwest. On September 1, the wave developed a sufficient amount of convection and Ike was given his original birth name, Tropical Depression Nine. As a depression, Ike continued to intensify and become organized. At 5:00 p.m. EDT, he was upgraded to Tropical Storm Ike. Ike was raised in an environment which was supportive of intensification.
After a series of minor setbacks, structural inconsistencies and comical adolescent hijinks, Ike had a growth spurt and began to seriously intensify in the late morning of September 3. Microwave satellites depicted an eye beginning to form and Ike strengthened to just below hurricane status. Ike’s eye continued to become better defined and by mid-afternoon Ike was upgraded to a hurricane. Due to the lack of wind shear, Ike began to undergo explosive intensification and was upgraded to a major hurricane with winds of 115 mph only three hours after being upgraded to a hurricane. During the three hour span, the pressure dropped 24 mbar. Ike continued to intensify and was further upgraded to a Category 4 hurricane three hours later with winds of 135 mph and a pressure of 948 mbar.
By the early morning hours on September 4, Ike had reached his peak intensity of 145 mph with a pressure of 935 mbar, making him the most intense storm thus far in the 2008 Atlantic hurricane season.
By the early morning hours of September 7, Ike had passed directly over the Turks and Caicos Islands with winds of 135 mph. He made landfall as a strong Category 3 hurricane in Holguín Province, Cuba, on the evening of September 7. He also made landfall a second time in Pinar del Río before entering the Gulf of Mexico in the afternoon of September 9.
During the night of September 10, Ike exhibited a rapid drop in central pressure; however wind speed only increased from 85 mph to 100 mph, indicating the structure was absorbing and distributing energy over a large area, rather than concentrating it near the center.
Over the next two days, Ike maintained a steady course towards Galveston and Houston. He increased only slightly in intensity to 110 mph - the high end of Category 2 - but exhibited an unusually large wind field. As Ike approached the Texas coast, his inner structure and eyewall became more organized.
Ike made U.S. landfall at Galveston, Texas, on September 13 at 2:10am CDT, as a Category 2 hurricane with winds of 110 mph and a central pressure of 952 mbar. The 2am NHC advisory cited tropical storm and hurricane force winds extending 275 miles and 120 miles, respectively, from the center.
During the day of September 13, Ike began a slow turn to the north and then northeast. After losing strength to Tropical Storm force winds, he passed near Houston; 100 miles to the east of Dallas, Texas; and west of Little Rock, Arkansas. He returned to his roots as a Tropical Depression and continued northeast, passing near St. Louis, Missouri. Ike brought heavy rainfall all along his path, but moved more quickly the farther north he went.
Early on September 14, Ike merged with a large cold front moving from west to east across the central United States. In a final burst of unforeseen energy he created very strong winds, power outages and mass destruction all the way up the Ohio River valley as far north as Cincinnati. He was last seen smothering a Carson Palmer pass intended for Antonio Chatman. On the late afternoon of September 14, 2008, Hurricane Ike died, reportedly eaten by a large fish-like creature that pulled him down into the Ohio River basin and made him its Sunday dinner.
Ike has been blamed for 120 deaths, primarily in Haiti and the United States, with many of the deaths taking place well inland. Damages from Ike in coastal areas are estimated at $27 billion. If the estimates are accurate, Ike will be the fourth costliest Atlantic hurricane and third costliest U.S. hurricane of all time.
His burial took place abruptly with no known audience, and his remains will be slowly digested over the course of the next thousand years. In lieu of flowers, his family asks that donations be sent to the Red Cross Disaster Relief Fund.
After a series of minor setbacks, structural inconsistencies and comical adolescent hijinks, Ike had a growth spurt and began to seriously intensify in the late morning of September 3. Microwave satellites depicted an eye beginning to form and Ike strengthened to just below hurricane status. Ike’s eye continued to become better defined and by mid-afternoon Ike was upgraded to a hurricane. Due to the lack of wind shear, Ike began to undergo explosive intensification and was upgraded to a major hurricane with winds of 115 mph only three hours after being upgraded to a hurricane. During the three hour span, the pressure dropped 24 mbar. Ike continued to intensify and was further upgraded to a Category 4 hurricane three hours later with winds of 135 mph and a pressure of 948 mbar.
By the early morning hours on September 4, Ike had reached his peak intensity of 145 mph with a pressure of 935 mbar, making him the most intense storm thus far in the 2008 Atlantic hurricane season.
By the early morning hours of September 7, Ike had passed directly over the Turks and Caicos Islands with winds of 135 mph. He made landfall as a strong Category 3 hurricane in Holguín Province, Cuba, on the evening of September 7. He also made landfall a second time in Pinar del Río before entering the Gulf of Mexico in the afternoon of September 9.
During the night of September 10, Ike exhibited a rapid drop in central pressure; however wind speed only increased from 85 mph to 100 mph, indicating the structure was absorbing and distributing energy over a large area, rather than concentrating it near the center.
Over the next two days, Ike maintained a steady course towards Galveston and Houston. He increased only slightly in intensity to 110 mph - the high end of Category 2 - but exhibited an unusually large wind field. As Ike approached the Texas coast, his inner structure and eyewall became more organized.
Ike made U.S. landfall at Galveston, Texas, on September 13 at 2:10am CDT, as a Category 2 hurricane with winds of 110 mph and a central pressure of 952 mbar. The 2am NHC advisory cited tropical storm and hurricane force winds extending 275 miles and 120 miles, respectively, from the center.
During the day of September 13, Ike began a slow turn to the north and then northeast. After losing strength to Tropical Storm force winds, he passed near Houston; 100 miles to the east of Dallas, Texas; and west of Little Rock, Arkansas. He returned to his roots as a Tropical Depression and continued northeast, passing near St. Louis, Missouri. Ike brought heavy rainfall all along his path, but moved more quickly the farther north he went.
Early on September 14, Ike merged with a large cold front moving from west to east across the central United States. In a final burst of unforeseen energy he created very strong winds, power outages and mass destruction all the way up the Ohio River valley as far north as Cincinnati. He was last seen smothering a Carson Palmer pass intended for Antonio Chatman. On the late afternoon of September 14, 2008, Hurricane Ike died, reportedly eaten by a large fish-like creature that pulled him down into the Ohio River basin and made him its Sunday dinner.
Ike has been blamed for 120 deaths, primarily in Haiti and the United States, with many of the deaths taking place well inland. Damages from Ike in coastal areas are estimated at $27 billion. If the estimates are accurate, Ike will be the fourth costliest Atlantic hurricane and third costliest U.S. hurricane of all time.
His burial took place abruptly with no known audience, and his remains will be slowly digested over the course of the next thousand years. In lieu of flowers, his family asks that donations be sent to the Red Cross Disaster Relief Fund.
Thursday, September 11, 2008
I can still see the old man there at the bus stop, ragged and tired. Didn’t leave that bus stop for many many years, close as I can reckon. “Takin the Greyhound to Natchez,” he’d say. Wouldn’t get on a steamboat, even though it were cheaper in them days. Couldn’t take the boat, couldn’t take the river. Too many voices. Voices from the Depression. Out on the river in the middle of the night wouldn’t be able to stop hearin them voices.
“How’s that river flowin today Slim?”
“Flowin.”
“Catch anythin?”
“Nope.”
“How many days it been?”
“Too many.”
“What’s the problem?”
“Sometin out dere. Sometin eatin all de catchin fish.”
“Any idear?”
“Nope. Gotsta find out though. Dem poor kids is starvin. Ain’t got no energy, ain't got no will. Wife’s skin'n bones. Can’t see her like dis mon.”
“Here, take this Slim.”
“What’s in dis bag mon?”
“Lake smelt.”
“Oh, can’t take dis.”
“You’ll take it. I ain’t takin it back.”
“Can’t live like dis. Ain’t no way to live I tell ya.”
“Hey, where you think you’re goin?”
“Out to sea.”
“On the river?”
“Yeah mon.”
“What fer?”
“Find out what’s eatin dem fish. Catch de sumbitch. Call it to answer. Feed my family wit it. Bets we could eat on dat ting all winter. Maybe longer.”
“Whatever’s out there, tis too big. You’ll be that what’s for eatin.”
“Maybe so. Chance I gotta take.”
“I’d think this through Slim.”
“Times for thinkin’s done gone mon.”
“Come back you fool!”
But he was gone. Slim was never seen nor heard from ever again. And the old man just walked on down to the bus stop to become old. Goin to Natchez, lookin for Slim’s old fishin hat. So you kids can take yer housin crisis. Aint’ never seen no depression.
“How’s that river flowin today Slim?”
“Flowin.”
“Catch anythin?”
“Nope.”
“How many days it been?”
“Too many.”
“What’s the problem?”
“Sometin out dere. Sometin eatin all de catchin fish.”
“Any idear?”
“Nope. Gotsta find out though. Dem poor kids is starvin. Ain’t got no energy, ain't got no will. Wife’s skin'n bones. Can’t see her like dis mon.”
“Here, take this Slim.”
“What’s in dis bag mon?”
“Lake smelt.”
“Oh, can’t take dis.”
“You’ll take it. I ain’t takin it back.”
“Can’t live like dis. Ain’t no way to live I tell ya.”
“Hey, where you think you’re goin?”
“Out to sea.”
“On the river?”
“Yeah mon.”
“What fer?”
“Find out what’s eatin dem fish. Catch de sumbitch. Call it to answer. Feed my family wit it. Bets we could eat on dat ting all winter. Maybe longer.”
“Whatever’s out there, tis too big. You’ll be that what’s for eatin.”
“Maybe so. Chance I gotta take.”
“I’d think this through Slim.”
“Times for thinkin’s done gone mon.”
“Come back you fool!”
But he was gone. Slim was never seen nor heard from ever again. And the old man just walked on down to the bus stop to become old. Goin to Natchez, lookin for Slim’s old fishin hat. So you kids can take yer housin crisis. Aint’ never seen no depression.
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
Heavier yet be the price of treason
“U.S. Sen. Jim Bunning says he'll oppose any measure that exempts the riverboat Delta Queen from fire safety regulations because that would leave passengers exposed to danger...” - Courtesy: Cincinnati.com
Claiming a healthy aversion to fire, Bunning has now aligned himself firmly against our cause. At first glance he may seem a vile enemy. But there is a simplistic cause behind the action of every politician. And I have a feeling it’s not just his senility in this case.
Money? No. The only heavily vested interests in this fight would be pro-Queen.
Votes? Definitely not. His constituency and other independent voters skew heavily in favor of the boat.
Pride? Quite the opposite, these words border on public shame.
A place in History? Perhaps alongside famous proponents of National Socialism in the 1930s…
Fear? Ahh, now we may be onto something, Jethro. Fear of an enemy more powerful than any organized military force or political party. Fear rather of the Unknown.
It now appears obvious to me, those in the Know, the online “comment” posting community, and the Smart Money that a gigantic catfish is in the ear of our boy Bunning. The only thing that could move a man so set in his ways to these humiliating depths of treachery is the threat of a death more terrible than any public execution, a fate more horrifying than a thousand guillotines, a sight more ghastly than an army of ghouls, an eternity no less… spent in the vast belly of a mythical seamonster. Let us now in this dark hour only hope that the beast not present itself all-too-real to many more weak-minded politicians. Each vote for the Queen, a vote for freedom, a vote for tradition, a vote, yes, for mankind… may cause another brave defender of liberty to be consumed. But still we must let our voice be heard.
Claiming a healthy aversion to fire, Bunning has now aligned himself firmly against our cause. At first glance he may seem a vile enemy. But there is a simplistic cause behind the action of every politician. And I have a feeling it’s not just his senility in this case.
Money? No. The only heavily vested interests in this fight would be pro-Queen.
Votes? Definitely not. His constituency and other independent voters skew heavily in favor of the boat.
Pride? Quite the opposite, these words border on public shame.
A place in History? Perhaps alongside famous proponents of National Socialism in the 1930s…
Fear? Ahh, now we may be onto something, Jethro. Fear of an enemy more powerful than any organized military force or political party. Fear rather of the Unknown.
It now appears obvious to me, those in the Know, the online “comment” posting community, and the Smart Money that a gigantic catfish is in the ear of our boy Bunning. The only thing that could move a man so set in his ways to these humiliating depths of treachery is the threat of a death more terrible than any public execution, a fate more horrifying than a thousand guillotines, a sight more ghastly than an army of ghouls, an eternity no less… spent in the vast belly of a mythical seamonster. Let us now in this dark hour only hope that the beast not present itself all-too-real to many more weak-minded politicians. Each vote for the Queen, a vote for freedom, a vote for tradition, a vote, yes, for mankind… may cause another brave defender of liberty to be consumed. But still we must let our voice be heard.
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
Many flee New Orleans for Ohio River Valley
The floor of the Ohio River near Cincinnati turned into a sea of small- to medium-sized catfish yesterday as the number of Hurricane Gustav evacuees swelled to 1,400 by 10 last night. And it could be approaching 2,000 by this morning.
Catfish school leaders in New Orleans issued a mandatory evacuation order as the massive storm approached the Gulf Coast. Only a fraction of the nearly 2 million catfish that thrive in the Mississippi River delta around the Louisiana coast fled as far north as Cincinnati yesterday. This would prove a tragic miscalculation for many of the fish.
Local gigantic catfish were prepared to receive as many as 4,250 smaller catfish evacuees in a small region of the Ohio River stretching from about 4 miles southwest of Bromley to about 500 yards east of Pirate’s Cove.
Of the 2,000 small- to medium-sized cajun-flavored catfish expected around Cincinnati today, only 4 to 6 of them are expected to escape uneaten. Upon returning south to join the rest of the New Orleans catfish community, the survivors will begin rebuilding yet again. Due to preparations, precautions and lessons learned by older catfish who had been around for Hurricane Katrina in 2005, the damage done to the spicy schools of Louisiana catfish by Gustav is expected to be far less substantial.
Meanwhile, the terrifying reign of the Ohio River gigantic catfish marches on with majestic dominance and lusting satisfaction, the beast well fed, resting complacently until the next destructive act of Nature comes along to provide another effortless feast.
Catfish school leaders in New Orleans issued a mandatory evacuation order as the massive storm approached the Gulf Coast. Only a fraction of the nearly 2 million catfish that thrive in the Mississippi River delta around the Louisiana coast fled as far north as Cincinnati yesterday. This would prove a tragic miscalculation for many of the fish.
Local gigantic catfish were prepared to receive as many as 4,250 smaller catfish evacuees in a small region of the Ohio River stretching from about 4 miles southwest of Bromley to about 500 yards east of Pirate’s Cove.
Of the 2,000 small- to medium-sized cajun-flavored catfish expected around Cincinnati today, only 4 to 6 of them are expected to escape uneaten. Upon returning south to join the rest of the New Orleans catfish community, the survivors will begin rebuilding yet again. Due to preparations, precautions and lessons learned by older catfish who had been around for Hurricane Katrina in 2005, the damage done to the spicy schools of Louisiana catfish by Gustav is expected to be far less substantial.
Meanwhile, the terrifying reign of the Ohio River gigantic catfish marches on with majestic dominance and lusting satisfaction, the beast well fed, resting complacently until the next destructive act of Nature comes along to provide another effortless feast.
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