The Gull Reef Club

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9/17/2019 · 2:03 am· Trouble · Good Bye Blue Sky
sometimes waiting and watching is all you can do. The weather has been oscillating quite a bit this... | Read More

9/1/2019 · 1:30 pm· Jaime · Good Bye Blue Sky
It's summer. We don't adventure much in the summer. It's too hot & buggy. We hibernate and wait... | Read More

9/1/2019 · 2:25 am· Trouble · Good Bye Blue Sky
So how goes the summer of adventure? Inquiring minds want to know.... | Read More

6/6/2018 · 12:46 am· Michael (Net2007) · My friend, my friend, (s)he’s got a knife
I've often felt this way, it's strange and divisive times in many ways. As far as this goes, I... | Read More

7/12/2017 · 4:22 pm· Trouble · Half of Us Are Wrong or in the Alternative, Half of Us Are Right
I've been following the saga and cataloging links of interest that contain more than mere rhetoric.... | Read More



Filed under: — Jaime @ 10:38 pm

Mike just sent me this article, A Ben By Another Name: Dan. I empathize with Dan, er, Ben. I wouldn’t have 7 years ago, but now that I live in the south things have changed.

When I lived in the midwest and introduced myself to strangers, the biggest mixup they may have had, if any, is calling me Janie instead of Jaime. Not a big deal and I could certainly understand how they heard that. However, in the south the mix-up is no longer the logical Janie/Jaime error. It has become something far worse – they think my name is (shutter) Tammy.

Now I realize that every third woman down here is named Tammy, but puhleeze. Jaime is NOTHING like Tammy. Not. At. All. Close. Not even with my stuffed-up-honky-Chicago accent. How do people even hear that? It’s to the point where I now must exaggerate the pronunciation of my name upon introductions. “Hi, I’m Jjjjjjaaaaaaay(me)….” I try to make sure people hear it right the first time because, unlike Ben, I’ll correct you if you get my name wrong.

Do any of you beachcombers have this name problem like Ben and me?

The Great Sweet Bippy in the Sky

Filed under: — Jaime @ 7:06 pm

It is with much sadness that I write of this update to the Death Pool. Score one for me, comedy legend Dick Martin has passed.

Martin’s death is a little sadder for me to report than the others so far this year. In my own way, I had a special connection to Mr. Martin. Well, Messrs. Martin and Rowan, and of course, their mark on our comedic memory – Laugh-In.

As a kid, I warmly recall my sister and I forcing ourselves to stay up late and sneak-watch TV in order to catch reruns of Laugh-In on Nick at Nite. It was obviously naughty and something we were forbidden to watch (or so we thought, not sure if my parents actually cared). That alone, made Laugh-In cool. But it was the sheer comedic genius that permeated throughout that show that made it so special.

Martin and Rowan were the quintessential Vegas-style comedians. Well-tailored suits, long cigarettes, slicked back hair, and well-mannered naughtiness. They bled suave. Their cosmopolitan banter complimented and even tied together the remaining mish-mash of hilarious sketches. It may seem silly, but that show made a strong influence on the kind of comedy I like today – political/fast/curt/brash – it all applies. Plus, women played an integral role in that show (yes, even Goldie Hawn), which was a bonus. I used to idolize Ruth Buzzi…which is probably fodder for a future blog post.

Thank you Mr. Martin for your contributions to the world. I’d rather laugh than do much else, and you certainly brought smiles to all of our faces. Hope you’re sockin-it-to-em where ever you are.


Fools Die (but not soon enough)

Filed under: — Jaime @ 2:57 am

Mario Puzo’s Fools Die is my latest read. Ugh. Why oh why oh why did I bother getting to the end? Seriously. This was one of those books that almost seemed like it was written by two people. The first half was alright. A pulpy, slightly wordy, Vegas/corruption style novel. About halfway through, maybe only a third, the book takes a turn for the bizarre and goes way down here from there. Spoilers from here on out.

* * *

After Merlyn, the lead character, sells his book and heads to Hollywood for the script writing, Fools Die goes to hell. This is where is seems like someone else started to write it. It became a self-loathing misogynistic drone. It became so obvious everyone but Merlyn dies. It really got so predictable. I can only rationalize that the reason I finished this book and didn’t dump it off like Puzo would have done in The Godfather was because it was Puzo. I expected so much more from him.

If nothing else, this book does have a few good death scenes. Jordan’s initial surprise death and of course, Cully’s well-written Japanese demise. Not enough to negate my distaste for this book.

We know Puzo can write death scenes. He can not develop believable female characters though, and that became so distracting that I found myself snickering at how silly it increasingly became. Seriously, not all women fit in the category of motherly saint or cunt (his word, not mine). It was repugnant after awhile, and I really probably shouldn’t have wasted my time finishing this.

This leaves me with a good feeling though – I can now start something new. Finally.



Filed under: — Jaime @ 4:18 pm

Fires in cities are always big news. No exception was today’s fire at the DeSoto Hilton here in Savannah. I was witness to it from about 7 stories up and a few blocks over. The garbage shoot running up the entire height of the east side of the building (being used for renovations) was on fire. It was quite a spectacle seeing flames leaping off the hotel from that high up.

Here’s a snap a friend caught with her cellphone. She didn’t get the flames, just the smoke. The flames didn’t last long. Our firefighters are fast.

DeSoto Hilton fire

Local news: WSAV article


Another Only in Savannah Moment

Filed under: — Jaime @ 8:50 pm

When running (actually walking) errands in the historic district, I am always sure to never take the same route when possible. Since the city is on a grid, jockeying through the squares and residential streets doesn’t really delay me at all and I get the bonus of seeing the remarkable beauty of this place. I also get the bonus of having these infinite only in Savannah moments.

My errands today brought me through one of the residential streets lined with opulent, preserved mansions. Along the middle of the block was a lovely brown stucco home with a grand staircase leading up to the front entrance. At the top of the steps sat a woman, probably near my age, with a dog, large and long haired, breed unknown (the dog, not the woman).

The scene was normal in all other aspects except for the fact that she was reading from a children’s book … to her dog. Full of warm emotion, her voice sang through the air in the melodic tones that can only mean a book is being read to a child. No, a dog. She was reading to her freaking dog.

Maybe she was practicing for a big speech she was going to give to a group of 3 year olds. Probably not. This is Savannah, afterall. Good doggie.


Help Wanted

Filed under: — Jaime @ 5:22 pm

There’s a coffee shop downtown that is seeking summer help. They have a sign posted in their door to this effect. The sign reads:

Now Hiring For Summer Jobs

Maybe it’s because I’m out of contacts and back to glasses this week, maybe I’m just not paying enough attention these days – but I read the sign as:

Now Siring For Hummer Jobs

The H and the S somehow jumped places and hilarity ensued – well, in my mind anyway. I wonder what my facial expressions are like at moments like these? I probably don’t want to really know the answer to this. There’s a grammatical term for mix-ups like these, but I can’t place it. I thought it was malapropism, but I’m not certain malapropism applies to written word or just spoken, or if malapropism is right at all.

Anyway. Again. Because it’s just that funny:

Now Siring For Hummer Jobs


Not as fun as you might think

Filed under: — Jaime @ 10:40 pm



Long Strange – oh shut up

Filed under: — Jaime @ 10:38 pm

Albert Hofmann, granddaddy of synthesized hallucinogenics, passed away recently. Which means one point for Mike in the death pool. It was almost too obvious. The man was 102. 102. Not sure how the rest of us beachcombers missed this in our picks.

The Gull Reef Club