I am not infantile, you stinky poophead!

So let us continue down the holiday road, my Griswold friends...because it didn’t stop with Black Friday...au contaraire, mon frere’...it rolled into Saturday afternoon, with a bullet. There was an important difference however...my composure, my formerly ruffled feathers had been replaced with my usual “bring it on” rockstar demeanor...I was 100% on, locked, loaded, ready...and it was a damned good thing. The morning was wonderful...good friends and folks who had been aboard the past several days...a nice vibe. Winds were clocking around to that classic Keys UhOh direction: SE, and picking up. But we had a blast. But I saw the clouds gathering at the dock...EastEuroDSD’s...Discover Scuba is a program that “introduces” folks to scuba with a short pool session and then a drop into the deep blue sea. I am not fond of this...it is one of the main reasons I have stopped teaching scuba actively here in the Keys. The certification process is strangely truncated for this class, and the burden on instructors and crew is almost unbelievable...Yesterday, 7 of them with 2 instructors. They hit the water, one by one, they went apeshit-gonzo one by one. One of them was a young woman from Las Vegas...a “student” working part time for a “dancing agency” and she had a pair of those ridiculous boobs that looked like tupperware...she freaked as soon as she splashed and had to be dragged back to the boat. Her Svengali BF seemed real concerned that she might have to be left alone back onboard with yours truly and Dre, and clearly he wasn’t going to leave his personal property alone with the possibility that his “student” friend might be influenced by the massive charm assault back onboard, so he too bails out. And as this is happening, the others for whom english is a lonesome stranger decide this is a good time to stand up and start lurching around in full scuba and fins on a pitching tilt-o-whirl dive boat...like zombies, arms outstretched, near misses are whizzing around in a crazy blur as I attempt to seize control of this EuroMoshPit...and as each of them is dropped, each of them wigs out and has to be brought back dramatically. Panicky, out of control, and safely back onboard. The rest of the divers, as usual, are down below oblivious to the crazy clusterfuck right over their vacationland heads...and so begins the vomiting and the ”hahha I shouldn’t have got so drunk last night” banter...and I wish to add, if you’re thinking this is isolated to our boat, divest yourself of that notion, kind reader. One of our terrified DSD’s was asking about how often this sort of rescue scenario ends in an ambient temperature body...I told him “rarely...more folks get killed driving here” And I explained to him that with all these professional dive ops in this small area, we were all pretty well trained to prevent problems...the words had no sooner left my lips...when 4 divers from a boat right next to us began screaming bluemurder, one was face down without a mask OR regulator...3 boats including ours scrambled to respond, and the boat she was from was on her like stink on shit (forgive the metaphor)...2 others at the same time had popped up in the “don’t go that way” direction...a few minutes later, 2 guys came up to the wrong boat, ours...one spat out his reg, pulled off his mask, negatively buoyant...he stuck his lips out of the water and screamed and Troy (instructor/captain) jumped off the boat without any gear at all and dragged his sorry ass over to our boat...As all this is happening, I hear the hideous sound of multiple dramaretching all around all the other boats, I can smell the puke, the slick trails the boats in a visible fan trailing 100ft...5 boats, all full of holiday divers, all of us performing our jobs, everyone going home safe...and most everyone blissfully unaware of this crazy fucking machine gun firing multiple bullets whizzing right past our heads...yeah, hon...stressful, indeed.

That language barrier isn’t about “my” prejudice...it’s about my solid knowledge that informed divers can be counted on...picture a dive boat where no briefings are done at all...you show up and have to figure it all out, and you haven’t got a clue. Now start lifting the deck 4 ft up, down, sideways and strap on a scuba-kit and fins...one of our EastEuros got back onboard and blew a huge wad of goo into his hand, and godhelpme, wiped this awful, disgusting snotwad all over my sweatshirt...another was making these hideous honking snot sounds, clearing his throat and then spitting on the deck...another was standing up looking down and vomiting all over the deck and the divers below...and my personal fave, a huge nasty deuce in the head clogging the plumbing, and just try, TRY to stop it. They just look at you without a glimmer of understanding. They are 100% clueless, without anger or hostile intent of any kind...they are simply clueless. It is impossible for me to be angry under these circumstances for more than a second. .BONUS feature...one the motors started cutting out (an electrical prob) on the way back in, so I hafta go in early today and lay on that same fucking deck and fix it so we can do it all over again...I love my job, truly I do...I am convinced that everybody has to deal with crazy shit...teenagers, bills, cheating spouses, asshole bosses, all of it. My stress is no worse, really, than anyone elses...its that people are constantly expressing their delusional vacation-thinking onto me...projecting a “he’s living my dream” scene right over the real me, and I understand that very well...it is rare for me to lose it like I did yesterday, to shut down and go silent...Yeah...holidays, especially the Thanksgiving to Christmas corridor, are very, very tough here. I wonder what it must be like to be close to we who do this for a living...I can’t even return necessary phone calls, emails...I work, go to the gym, go home and crash...get up and do it all again. I went to a “meeting” last night thinking it was Sunday...it was Saturday. Some see this a an island-man-zen thing...I think, “holySHit, dude”...

Listening to: Jamal!

Life gets even more ridiculous, as seen on “Tyra”

Tidal link to earthquakes...

Don’t be a sexist...broads hate that

Just sit right back and you’ll hear a tale...of a fateful trip. A day on the water that marks one of a kind...a holiday, especially a winter one brings trouble in spades. Once a year divers, clueless (I mean stone cold ignorant) snorkelers...casuals, dedicated, the gamut...and so far this sunny warm morning, so good...until THEY pull in to the parking lot 5 minutes before departure...6 middle aged Russians. One speaks english but so poorly I wonder how the FUCK they even got this far. Seriously. They are toting plastic bags full of crappy masks and fins from KMart...black socks, sandals, obesity...BO like you cannot believe...and two are diving (godhelpusall), 4 are bubblewatchers. They totally fuck over the crew with lateness, an today OF COURSE, the destination is for the Jesus Statue, adding 30 minutes (15 each way) to the trip time, and holiday that it is it puts us at ground zero for every cattleboat and rental-boat-narcissistic-sociopath in the upper keys. I would NEVER choose such a spot on such a day, but the request came, and I figured why not...? We’re right on time...but this day, a nite dive as well. Schedule is important on a long day...quick turnarounds make for a tired and cranked captain bob...and once I caught the accents that had made me so late, cranked I became...These Russians spoke absolutely “0” english...the one who was “translating” actually stopped the DM during the briefing (we had already left the dock) with “Vee don’t know the english!”...sooooo. I hear this, and I realize that whatever I think I have ever seen in the way of assclown Euro-nonsense...whatever clusterfuck out of air, speedoedfatman-ballsack bullshit pukealiciousnous I have in my minds storehouse of mirth and hilarity and outright horrorshow is about to be renewed, refurbished, restocked.

Viddie this, droogs...are they sisters? Are they “together”? I don’t fucking know, but goodgawd...one totes a huge camera, a 7mm wetsuit with hood/vest, the other is “navigating”...how could this possibly go wrong. Well, it does. They’re shrieking at each other at the surface, all goddam day...”YOU FUCKING DUMBASS! WHY DON”T YOU POP YOUR FUCKING HEAD OUTTA YOUR GOODAM FAT ASS!!!??”...ahhh, yes, kind reader that would be a direct quote.. Methinks “together, indeed”. The angry snorkeler family...1ft seas, 83f air temp, 80ft vis...hatin’ every minute of it like I had gone to Taco Bell and shanghied them and they had come back to conciousness onboard a torture boat...mom has that all-too-common stock dolphin tattoo on one of her sagging boobs, so Dre starts calling her “Dolphin”...she is like REGALLY, ROYALLY pissed. Yowza...you get a tit-too like this and come out on this boat, and we’re not only supposed to not notice, but not say anything? She wanted to know if seas were “always this rough”. I looked at her, and fully realizing the potential for a tip was “NOT a fucking chance”, I laughed out loud, “go back there, aim over there and go for distance”. The russians were popping up, demanding stuff in russian...blabbering stuff like “3 kilos!” The bubblewatchers were talking LOUD the whole time between puking episodes...as if no one else were around...laying across the deck, vomiting all over the fuel tanks, the ladder, in the head...the snorkelers were glowering, angry, the russian dude who was pushing 300lbs kept bending over and with that speedo on, I gotta tellya, that ballsack looked dangerous...he came back aboard with “0” air, btw. AND 15 minutes late. AND several others were late. Every dive. All day. Every dive. We get back...hustle tanks and turnaround...back out we go. Out there, one of our instructors tells his students “just hand your mask to the crew, they’ll rinse it for you”...Dre looks at me cause he can feel the vibe...what do I look like, here? Sinister needles are shooting out of my head, because the chances of me sticking my hand into snot-soup for an open water student who should be taken care of by their fucking instructor is now BELOW the normal “wtf?”...I stick my foot out and kick the mask rinse bucket and it slides right over in front of the diver in need coming to a perfect stop...At this point, I have totally shut down. Full boat in the morning, full boat in the afternoon, total chaos, all day, then a nite dive. MORE chaos...And coming toward us all like a wet kiss on a hot fist...Christmas! The best part of all of this...we got 100% stiffed. Not a thin dime in tips. Gear was dropped, rescued, dive site requests accomodated, all needs attended, gameface “ON”...attitude undercontrol...and a gathering of assholes in a serendipidous record busting scene reminding your humble narrator of what monkeys-fukkin-a-football/poodles-fukkin-a-doorknob looks like...not that I’ve ever seen that literally, but the metaphor, my friends, is o-so-appropo.

Jesus saves the day. Really.

What is the sound of one hand clapping? Me, slappin’ the shit outta you

Just because they’re environmentalists doesn’t mean they’re sissies, mutherfucker

Just finishing up the holiday decorations...

Tom’s Hardware...

Jan Terry?...a plethora of mirth and talent

Plausibility...thats the key to denial. After all, fooling oneself isn’t a game for amateurs; “In this emerging view, social scientists see denial on a broader spectrum — from benign inattention to passive acknowledgment to full-blown, willful blindness — on the part of couples, social groups and organizations, as well as individuals. Seeing denial in this way, some scientists argue, helps clarify when it is wise to manage a difficult person or personal situation, and when it threatens to become a kind of infectious silent trance that can make hypocrites of otherwise forthright people.

Helium is an increasingly common gas used in technical deep diving, and increasingly expensive

Jaekelopterus rhenania

Dr Strangelove saves the world? what-the-FUCK?

Talking Back to Prozac

A heart warming holiday WalMart story

Gene Simmons singing “When You Wish Upon a Star”...be thankful I’m here to bring you this shit

ITunes is the new RealPlayer? Oh yeah...no shit. The way this piece of crap hijacks your system is just real bad business...and the way it keeps checking for licenses? Then deletes all your music? Awesome display of the superiority of the Mac...

AweSome

Free as a bird...

Just when you think that cynicism IS reality, this. A story about one who loves another unconditionally...

Dickipedia...it had to happen

Again, Sarah Silverman...a date with God

Holy sheet! Solar panels, cheap, mass produceable...coming soon? More here...

The last thing I want to do is insult you...but it is on the list

Childhood Obesity...doh!

There’s a big Nascar hoedown up in Homestead...and the hotels are booked from Palm Beach to Key West, effectively shutting down all water based activities on this huge potentially busy weekend before Thanksgiving...the boats have handfulls of divers, or none at all...seems Nascar fans are not diver-types. Reason # 4 for why I despise Nascar.

He takes NYT articles and finds related stories from 10-20-100 years ago that show how little things have really changed...

A new Herzog film is about to release...

Well then...the shallow end of the pool is pretty crowded.

I wondered why the frisbee kept getting bigger...then it hit me

Yeah...windy days, bumpy seas and the endless parade of clueless tourists, duly warned of conditions ignoring all attempts at filtering out the weak, the infirm, the hopelessly out of shape...here they come. Most do well enough, and with some support and coaching manage to realize that diving 40ft below is very nice...but the boating? It sucks. Some don’t get it and as soon as they hit the brine, they fucking wig-out and try to climb up the bowline...last week, this happened every day, two, three times each dive.It’s a given, and those who do submerge never even know about it...they climb aboard all enthused about what they saw, and are excited to get in again...one guy (350lbs) totally freaked as described, climbed aboard after the “rescue”, and his mode of coping was to “blame the boat”...”I only do this when I’m on THIS boat” he said...once, twice, thrice and again the next day a couple more times. um, yeah, homes...couldn’t be you’re scared shitless? “This boat”, with all the ladies doin’ just fine and all?

Fashion tips...

We gotcher worlds most baffling toys...

“This over-the-top! Roll the tape!” VaVaVoom apparently bumps ratings for FoxNews

Hedge funds...unregulated. The wolf ate all the fucking chickens and now they’re goin’ for the cows, the sacred Corporate ones.

The line between rich and poor isn’t so subtle

Well...paint me purple and call me Barney

After watching so many get chilled the last few weeks in air temps of 70-75f and water of 79, I broke out the drysuit yesterday...I mention my intent to do this and invariably I get the “you’re such a pussy” comments, and coming from all the shivering macho’s, I find their perspective amusing...after all, if there is a chance of a chill, would you not wear a sweatshirt? But for some reason, taking the only really logical step divewise, a drysuit, is a mockery op...yesterday the KLFD wet-team assembled for a drill on the Speigel Grove. 3 teams, comprised of 3 divers penetrating the wreck to remove lines left behind and creating a hazard and 2 safety divers, one stationed at the entry point another hovering above. If something were to go wrong, the bottom-safety would report to the upper and he/she would ascend and report to command topside, and the extraction team (3 divers) would deploy...unbeknownst to all but a few, some wrinkles had been put in to test the teams response...all went well, more or less, but communication between teams of divers of this type is a hairy, complicated thing..

That morning the sun was hot and bright, around 84f...I was thinkin’ that maybe the drysuit decision was a bit premature, but I took it anyway...as I ascended and looked up at the sky, I could see that a worm had turned; blackish/purple, winds had kicked up, the temp had dropped to 70 and it was raining like hell. I climbed aboard the Cheeca View and everyone onboard was shivering in their wetsuits. But, kind reader, not I. I was dry and warm, not overly, but just right. I am completely sold on this important piece of gear...it removes cold from my diving experience 100%.

Men who look like old lesbians...

9 little words, irregardless

Freudian Slips...

Swarming instinctively...interesting

“Imagine, if you will, a load of horseshit”

Elena Dorfman...a photo project of sublime weirdness.

Flinch away, kind reader. Does this mean sentences for those who have already done time were excessive? Umm. is “yes” the right answer?

Velcro arms, teflon heart

Discussions have commenced, the gauntlet thrown and picked up...a standard protocol for emergencies on diveboats has long been dominated by scuba agency standards and rescue training. As our scuba diver majority ages into their 50’s, and kind reader, morbid obesity cements itself as a solid trend, accidents/incidents continue to blip the radar, and like any law enforcement agency swelling with bureaucracy powers and “mandates” to do something/anything the USCG is mulling regulation of scuba...Rhetorical question: is an “increase” in incidents due to dive ops, crews, procedures...? I say “no”, unequivocally. But the time has come for an organized approach, a discussion of whatifs, howtos, an increase in cooperative efforts out on the water. The leadership of the local “Wet-Team” is forming plans for rescue&recovery plans that will hopefully be adopted and presented to the CG...the Upper Keys Association of Dive and Snorkel Operators might do well to not only bring in owners/management and talk of marketing, but an organized and coordinated effort to cooperate as a team on the water in emergencies, which would mean that the organization might hafta stop arguing over what color the tshirts oughta be and whether or not alcohol should be allowed in the fucking meetings and do something that will help stave off harsh and restrictive regulation and monitoring by the feds...PLUS, protecting our incomes and livliehood by protecting our guests and passengers, and ensuring that recoveries apres shit-hits-fan keep the wrecks open for business... . I’m just sayin’, here.

Just another day at the office, but for her, it was a pilgrimage...her mother had passed away recently, and her trip to Key Largo had deep undertones. I was clueless. No idea at all about how much it meant to this woman...until I got this forwarded email:

Comments: thank you to cpt. bob you made our trip to the keys!!! as we told you on the boat, we have been trying to get to the christ statue for quite a few years my wife had to clear her mask-because of tears! great to dive with your operation will recomend to all!!!

I love my job...

A lone voice of reason, or anorexic attention whore? hmm. I’m pretty sure she’s one or the other.

All snark, all the time

Helter Skeleton...unusual fish art

Veterans Day...a bagful of photographs, tossed in a dumpster, Vietnam ‘67-’68...and the photographer steps forward....

Big trees...a nice project, this

There is no "I" in "Team", but there are four in "Platitude-Quoting Idiot"

A fascinating few days here on the rock...worlds collide, the very stars rearrange themselves in a new configuration...humility and ego-crushing consequences are the last house on the block for some, it seems. Your humble narrator never forgets, well almost never, that just when you think you’re King Shit of Turd Island, randomosity rolls in and just fuckifies your little world...and alliances roll and tumble, clinging and falling apart like underwear in a dryer. Out on the water, some days are tranquil, quiet, uneventful...but then you gotcher snake pit with alligators days where shit hits the fan you’re standing right in front of...some are coprophagics, some not. When somebody who is looking for trouble comes along, my policy is to do a personal inventory to avoid the whosaidwhat-drama-machine, feed the peckerhead some rope...yeah, a bit more, keep talkin’ yeah sweetie, thats it...and they wrap it around their own scrawny goddam neck every time. Never fails. Not being a karmic-cop is tough sometimes, but I never, ever interrupt or correct an “opponent” when he’s fukkin’ up royally....

We had a boatload of snorkelers from FAU onboard...a marine science field trip to the reef. The young ladies were snickering about me looking like “Captain Ron”...thats the 2nd or 3rd time I’ve heard that lately. Is this a “good” thing? hmm.

The NYT obit for Norman Mailer...

From my fortune cookie...creepy.

We’re Number 2!

Japan...cutting edge technology combines the bra and chopsticks. Brilliant!

Patches the horse

Give us more fake news

Yeah...but is it art? Sure it is.

Bush visits wounded vets...my mind reels at the irony. The office transforms them all, don’t it? A milestone, a benchmark, a new low

Sometimes I take an envelope out of the box and push it...

Tech dive training is humbling...my struggle with situational awareness is a real lesson in process...maintaining depth, air supply checks, knowing where my team is, and doing drills with sling tanks, lift bags, finger-reels, shut downs, all remind me of what it is like to do anything for the first time underwater...it has been a long time since this instructor was in the position of being the scuba student.A simple, fundamental knowing of how much air I have and my exact depth at all times has been put into question...I have to expand my horizon a bit, step away from my comfort with shallow dives, computer reliance, complacency...The PADI Tech/Rec course is an excellent place to start down this road, and I am very pleased at how comprehensive the manual is...Reading the IANTD manuals, however...the beef of it is solid, but I woulda hoped they would proofread it...typos, syntax, goofy...

8 (arbitrarily) Unusual Plants

HD pictures of the moon

Feminism...what does it mean in a fake tit world?

Learn another language....a free beta version has hit the interwebs. Pretty cool, vato

rantalicious ,brilliantly so.

For Good Service...tip now

What to do...? I get folks that will mull over divesites from a book or a magazine, and they get pretty insistent about wanting to go there...the Jesus Statue, City of Washington, the Benwood...and some days, these sites are as good as any. My opinion? The Statue reef is so pounded by snorkelers that the perception most walk away with is “now I know why he tried to talk me out of it”...a nice enough dive once. But 250 shrieking snorkelers kinda tones down the adventure aspect....City of Washington is flattened out, boring, short on coral, but a dive op does a fish feeding here, so if you’re really into a dog-and-pony show, saddle up pardner! The Benwood is very nice...a WW2 wreck, “barge” like because the top decks were torn off as a hazard to navigation decades ago...the downside here is that vis is typically below averages elsewhere, in the 20-30ft range, and even those who request/demand the site complain. My policy is to steer my boat to a divesite that has the best vis/conditions on any given day....Hell, I’d drive to fucking Mars for a fat tip, so it isn’t like I’m worried about gettin’ back to the dock early so’s I can meet my date at Trader Vick’s (my hair...is perfect)...no, it isn’t about me at all. It’s about service...and tips. So when somebody fucks with that with a randomly generated demand, I resist. Happy divers=tips. A simple equation, a simple plan, bollixed by a single agenda-driven typeA who probably wouldn’t be happy if I loaned him a regulator with diamonds that gave blowjobs.

The passengers veer from the sublime to the ridiculous...AM, CCR (ClosedCircuitRebreather) guys from the UK and a handful of experienced others...tight, organized, highly trained and havin’ a blast on the Spiegel Grove...PM, omG! A dude who clips his mask onto his vest and strides into the ocean AFTER I tried to stop him and make him put his mask on his face...not once, not twice, not thrice...not only did he gasp and struggle to “not” drown right in front of me, but he also insisted (over my stern warning about consequences) on wearing 20lbs of lead in a 14lb situation...and OF COURSE, turned head down and attempted a fully buoyant/airfilled bcd to the point of purge valve farting descent. And promptly rocketed upwards, ass first. Then again. And then again. And again. And again. And again. And then...again. ANd again. Really. No shit. 8 times. Then he barely sticks his face out of the water and as waves wash over his face and mouth he gurgles “MORE WEIGHT!”...but he can’t simply add weight while in the water, because he already has too much (he drops them onto the coral)...so he swims back to the ladder and climbs aboard, winded, exhausted...I chat with him about venting air from the unholy satan-spawn scuba trash that is the “Air2” he is sporting on his gadget cluttered bcd...he drops in, fully inflated...and does the same fucking thing all over again. hmm.

A little something for everyone...?

A day in the life of an evil bastard asshole

City Data

The pot growers of California WANT to pay taxes...

My inner goth-hobo just peed in your beer

Sometimes I am exactly what it is you want me to be...you see me as a symbol of everything your own life is not. You see me as stressless, an islander, a man without a care in the world...I know this because so many of the “you’s” tell me every day.. Thats the role, I guess. I do enjoy the spiritual exercise in duality, the contrasts between those who drive an hour each way to work everyday...HATIN” it, and me, who doesn’t. Apparently a lotta folks are feelin’ trapped. But, of course, they really aren’t...but, but, but who would CHOOSE, out of a big wide world, to live in Dayton, or Topeka, or Baltimore? Did you dream as a kid about being all grown up and free at last...”I’m gonna leave this shithole and move to Pittsburgh!”. Nah...somehow, I don’t think so. No offense, no insult implied here. I’m just sayin’...the contrast, indeed. I drive to work...2 miles each way. Then, I drive across 6 miles of open ocean to the jobsite, a traffic jam in my world is a jetski in the canal or a Griswold at the fuel dock...everyday, different sky, different winds, seas, people onboard, a dynamic changing mosaic of challenges, a life spent in the great outdoors on the professional level...rain, shine, wind, night. You can see the effect on me physically...deep tan, my hair was dark brown, streaked with silver...the past few years it has turned a sunstreaked blonde that I reckon folks pay a lot to have dyed in...this is a life I chose, and every choice in life, kind reader, has a terrible price that isn’t always obvious...nothing of value is free. Pain, hope, faith...all in a dead heat for the finish line. Nobody escapes it...even if you don’t see it, your humble narrators choice to be a latter-day-hippie-nihislist-post-punk-smartass-scuba-as-a-lifestyle-exile-expatriate is fraught with complicated facets well concealed, as I hide my preening vanity behind this pretty face...

If love is the answer, could you rephrase the question?

A very hard test, this.

Is it Christmas Already?

The Plasticines...

nygirlofmydreams um...dotcom. Well then, another contribution to a blurred onslaught of creative and clever.

A fascinating battle between state’s rights and federals...

Garish...excessive, but charming.

Let us assume for a moment that the Phillips Curve is a well known feature of applied economics...so those pie-eyed dreamers hoping to eliminate poverty and their opponents who would suggest that the poor are parasites are equally disingenuous, or perhaps, willfully ignorant...or maybe they’re just assholes. Who knows? Who cares? Have fun with the concept.

Nirvana Unplugged...yow.

On my list of “must haves”...get one here...and this is why

Photos and timing

Dive boat capsizes...holy sheeeit!

The Miskito’s of Nicarauga and the “white lobster”

Misogynistic, xenophobic...add homophobic and rigid religious beliefs and you got-cher-self one hell of a charming conversationalist!

Another reason why Snappy Banter from the Hall of Fire is your primoGRANDE info-source!

From the “FuckingIDIOT!” file: Congress

The oldest animal on earth...so they killed it and ate it

A story about a garden...

Where the fuck is the defense? Just askin’

Listening to: Thelonius

WARNING: Wearing of this garment does not allow wearer to fly

Yesterday as is my habit, I clicked onto the NOAA weather page for Molasses Reef to consult the oracle...ese 22-25knots. Translated, this means “fukkin’ HONKIN”...seas are bitched up, emphasis on “bitch”, so naturally the parking lot fills with newbie divers, kids, bubblewatchers, snorkelers, the clueless, the doomed...the ever fabulous and lovely ScubaKat, trapped in the dreaded office shift is trying to weed out the herd a bit with the restrained “It’s very rough out there today” admonition, but, kind reader, do you really think anyone listens? Fuck no...I let ‘em know also...and ditto with the listening. I double check and make sure all the releases are correctly signed, and we head out to French Reef where the ledge provides an awesome dive on days like this...but the boating...sucks. It sucks in a way that unravels people who don’t know what it’s like...and the topography of our little island can be deceiving...no wind at all in the canal, not a whisper here behind the massive hotels blocking the howling winds...and as we exit the jetty, the shallow reef-flat that extends outward offshore for 3.2560003 miles has a 2ft chop...one of my passengers has decided that calling the crew a “buncha pussies” over these relatively benign conditions in front of the group would be a stellar idea...I look at him and laugh, glancing at my watch I tell him “18 minutes”...I turn up the music and cruise out behind the protection of inshore patchreefs knowing that once I pass through the rocks at White Bank, the shit will hit the fan...18 minutes later, I pass...and, well, um...yeah 6 footers bangin’ over the bow and 6 inches of water rolling down the deck sternward...out on the reef, the vis is 50ish, seas 4-6ft...and the dive was real nice. But, of course, several never got past the surface conditions, despite the multiple warnings, the briefings, our help...and the one who seemed so sure that we were just “hung over” and looking for a way to bail on working puked his everlovin’ guts all over the deck...fuckin’ pussy indeed, I’m thinkin’ but not sayin’...ignorance was bliss, but knowledge sometimes is a real bitch, ain’t it? Back at the dock...I detected a drop in windspeed and a slight change in direction from ese to e and then a little bit of ne, and this positive, albeit small, improvement was communicated and thus amplified into a happy-love-joy mood amongst the waiting throngs...I remained firm in my admonitions, attempting to weed out the herd a bit, but alas...several more pukers. One, who had so little clue about what any of this was about on any level at all sat right by the ladder silent, increasingly greenish...the mate stepped down to grab some fins and assist a diver boarding....she blanched, held her hand up to her mouth, and attempted to contain the vesuvius of vomit that erupted, but instead provided a nozzle that very neatly sprayed all over my hapless associate as well as the poor bastard coming up the ladder...SO, kind reader, after all the stern warnings and such...we felt that all restrictions on laughing at stuff like this were suspended, and considering that some total random stranger had just vomited $50 worth of stone crab all over Dre and the ladder/lines/deck, fuckin’A I laughed...hell yeah!

REALLY bad haiku: She advances masked, Duct tape the great leveller, Who is your daddy?

 FoxNews...I only got 30% right....don’t even try to pass off that you have never noticed this bizarre trend...c’mon, now...whats with the Earl Scheib paintjobs?

Imagine THAT! Some third world country has the former first lady poised to be elected president?

I’ve watched her on the Montel show and cringed in disbelief...are people really so gullible? Yes, kind reader, truly...can you see the wheels turning as she sits there like a real-life jabba the hutt, spouting out bullshit...I wonder...since she lives in Vegas and all, and with this powerful psychic ability...has she ever proven herself by say...hitting numbers on roulette predictably? Or maybe she’s won lotto and proven herself once and for all...No? I didn’t think so.

Snappy Banter has initiated early stage negotiations and patents on several new scuba products and company: Pimp My Regulator...we are working on designs to customize wetsuits, accessories like knives, retractable gauges, 18 different styles of octo holders, fishnet webbing for splitfins, rhinestone studded purge covers (with the diamond option), and the mack-a-dizzle-king-a-ding pimp mask for all you playas down unda...See us at DEMA....we have hired a gaggle of hookers from Miami to “man” the booth, and we will be serving flapjacks for you hungry, lustful, fashionista hipsters up in Orlando...we have contacted the shark-jackass star, Manny Puig to represent us along with our chief designer, Snoop Dogg...

As a confirmed misanthropic loner with a marked propensity for cynicism, people confirm both the fallacies of my character as well as the pithy core of truth, that mammals are a nervous, chattery breed given to pointless and banal expressions of fear and loathing...but dogs? Guileless, unrepentantly judgemental, guiltless...and when a beloved pet dies it is no less a tragedy than any other death of a loved one. My friend Tess lost her dobie, Morgan, to cancer...a bright, bubbly child of a dog...her favorite toy was a deflated football she carried everywhere. I loved that...and her hoarse, old lady-dog bark...

"It's stuck to a rock so it's going to be pretty hard to meet the opposite sex," Marris explains. “So it has this penis that can be rolled out and just go wandering around the rockpools in search of a mate." I can relate...

A Field Guide to North Atlantic Wildlife...by Noble S Proctor and Patrick J Lynch...

beaming hazy befuddlement to already empty minds

I struggle with the need to be chirpy and tourguide-ish...it’s clearly part of the job of a captain in a vacation dive destination like Key Largo. As a human being, there is a bit of the old up-and-down cycle of life. As an objectified focal point of expectations, an entertainer, a host...sometimes it can be difficult. Because along with all of that, I also drive a boatload of human beings 6-7 miles offshore into the Atlantic ocean and drop them, weighted down, into the deep blue sea...on this rainy, stormy day the visibility through the rainy air is only about 300-500ft. By 8:15am, we are soaked to the bone.with 10hrs left to go. The divers show up, the chatter begins, and I can tell right away it’s gonna be a long morning. So I take a deep breath...today, the 26th of October, is the fifth anniversery of another long, long, memorable day/month/year. An accident day, a trauma-flight, my little girl in a coma...clinging to life. She lived...her 17th birthday celebrated last week, but I always feel mixed emotions on this day...as the years have passed, gratitude has begun ascent into the fore, but still...still. So my challenge explained, kind reader, on this dismal and rainy day, is to transcend my reflective tendencies and respond postively to the wafer-thin chit-chat...up in the office a package addressed to me. A field guide to wildlife of the NE USA from a passenger who now reads Snappy Banter, and some very kind words, supportive, thanking me for having a wonderful time diving and a few moments of diversion reading this humble contribution to, well, whatever it actually contributes to. Very nice...an unexpected kudos from someone who “gets it”.

On the boat, out at the reef...rain pounding the deck...big rollers coming from the SE...not breaking, smooth but 3-4ft high with a N wind at 10-12knots, they meet at the reefcrest. The waves break and thunderously crash in the shallows, the wind blows the crest back so it looks like one of those Japanese drawings...a couple of other dive boats are here, and they gather up their divers and head in while we await our last few...the snorkeler comes aboard and asks “Where did those other boats go? Did they leave?”...I look at her, struggle to hold my smartass reply to this profoundly empty rhetorical question and choose to walk away and sit in the rain...a diver, the one who (AFTER the detailed briefing) asked repeatedly “OK...so which way should I go?” a de facto demand (should I have said “down!”??) for a complete repeat of what I had just said...he climbs aboard and excitedly demands an answer to the “question”; “I saw this big fish...what was it?”

Yeah...I dunno...a bigass-motherfuckering fish? I think silently, rain dripping off the brim of my hat...and hopefully my inscrutability is enhanced by my dark sunglasses...yeah, life sometimes grinds my inner tourguide down to the bare nub...and the best I can do is smile at him and walk away. He probably thinks I’m a dick...and forgive me, but I’m cool with that. Because, after all, if the customer is always right...if I have to pretend that questions like these are somehow important and not just some random neurological verbal expectoration, then it is time to turn in my badge and gun...’cause it ain’t gonna happen.

PLEASE HELP! LOST CAT!

BrunchOut with Mike Tyson

Not that I would ever engage in a prankalicious poseuresque time-wasting sport like this...

My resolve to never, ever eat anything handed to me through a car window is solidly reaffirmed

Listening to “Cat Power”...

My opinion? She’d be perfect.

Speed dating as an oxymoron

She was offered the role of computer technician in “Die Hard 4”...the real Kelly Kapoor

I made a few copies of this and tacked them up around Key Largo

Patriotism offers the wily smartass ample opportunity to point out irony...it’s just too easy.

the sloth wearing the tie is clearly a player

SO this Egyptian dude is in a hotel evacuated after the 9/11 attack...a search of the hotel turns up a com device used by pilots, so they arrest the swarthy bastard and he confesses after interrogation. Then, an actual pilot returns and asks for his com device back. oops!

Vista!

THE weirdest cat, ever. Be thankful that I’m here to find this shit for you...

“In the wild, there is no health care. In the wild, health care is, 'Ow, I hurt my leg. I can't run. A lion eats me. I'm dead.' Well, I'm not dead. I'm the lion. You're dead.” dwight schrute “the office”

I hafta wonder...what in the fuck is the dealio? We went to the Spiegel Grove the other morning and all the balls were taken. I backed off a bit and was slowly moving toward the bow trying to minimize rolling...I could see it was gonna be a short wait for a mooring.. I was watching the water real carefully because there was a light current and you never know where someone will come up. I have seen people pop up as much as 1000ft away from this wreck, a distance so great that we don’t even really come off full speed plane this far out...a huge flat spot on the water was the telltale that day, and I swerved and backed the throttles as a diver came up and looked around...anyway, there we were this day when shitthebed, a diver 200ft off the bow, downcurrent, barely afloat and struggling in 135ft of water and there were signs of trouble in this one so I turned and moved toward her, and I signalled the DM to “lock and load”...he grabbed his fins and mask and moved toward an exit as I slowed down and asked the diver if she was OK...she replied in a garbled, confused way and I could hear this hideous gurgling as she exhaled. We pulled her gear off and dragged her aboard, she didn’t have the strength to climb the ladder and lay in a pathetic heap on the deck, horrible gaspy sounds, gurgling, blue lips, blue skin and her computer was screaming blue murder; an ascent violation. Well then. She was not from our boat, obviously...she was so incoherent she didn’t know which boat she had come from, couldn’t tell me her name, and had no idea who or where her buddy was...eyes dilated, lungs gurgling, blue lips, incoherent, hmm..a.911 if ever there was one. Out comes the oxygen...I call the ambulance to meet us onshore and through a short process figure out which boat she was from and we haul ass in to EMS and drop her off. Now, I’m 2 hrs behind schedule with a boatload of divers who have 2 dives coming on a day where the afternoon is a deep-deep-night marathon...in other words, a 16hr day without a break of any kind. Plus, this. Turns out, she wasn’t even kept at the hospital...they released her. Everything pointed to DCS...if one assumes there were no factors such as an addiction to heavy smoking, a world class hangover, 6-7 dramamines, and a profoundly disturbing lack of physical fitness for diving anywhere let alone a deep wreck in current...her computer read 135ft max depth, rapid ascent, no safety stop...if she wasn’t bent, then my thinking is that her fucked up state could only be explained by her being fucked up period. The instructor who administered o2, the DM, your humble narrator, a boatload of divers, we were all stunned to learn she had “nothing wrong” with her...her condition from all outward appearances, the sickening gurgling sound, the blue lips, all of it...and again the refrain...what the fuck is the dealio? If this dumbass had died, and she clearly came real close to drowning (at least), I daresay more than one dive op would be under the scrutiny yet again. I declare the ugly, ugly truth...people are the fucking scariest goddam things on earth. (no, she did not say “thank you”, nor did she call the shop and say it later. Instead, she went down to Sharkeys that very night and threw back a cold one)

A long weekend, kind reader...all deep dives. Doing the double-deeps means that there are crowds onboard all the time and socializing from dawn to dusk and beyond...I admit it, I’m beat. Tired...talked out. At the gym last night I did 6 miles on the stairmaster...stress, in a world where one is expected to be “on” all the time, where mistakes aren’t an option, where people are capable of anything, literally, and when the shit hits the fan, sometimes somebody goes home at ambient temperature...where bathing suits are the uniform of the day, and everyone is having fun, and you hafta look like you’re feeling it even when you don’t.

A “Vaginal American”.knee-jerk offensive, or really funny observation by a total asshole?.

Let the monkeys decide...whatever you do, don’t fuck with the monkeys

Rollercoasters!

Cheese? Good lord, what have we become...?

Vincent...totally cooliawsome!

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