The Oppenheimer Report - 1/30/12

Squirrel update. It amuses me that almost any source I consulted on the internet, or the people I asked, suggested that “six feet under” is the best place to relocate a squirrel. I was looking for information as to how far away I should expect to relocate the critters when I live trap them. For your edification, five to ten miles is apparently the minimum. Seems to me like a long way for a squirrel to travel; how do they find their way back, GPS? There were some very creative responses to my query. One fellow suggested that relocation could be anywhere from five to twelve feet, depending on the force of the shotgun blast. Most responses suggested gratuitous violence, which leads me to believe squirrels are not the most beloved creatures on the food chain. Personally, I would not use a shotgun to kill a squirrel. The red squirrels are the culprits, but the bigger, less troublesome black ones keep getting caught in the trap. Our weather has been mercurial and at times the traps we set froze and were not closing on the lighter red squirrels. I finally relented and popped one of the little bastards the other day. He was not getting the humaneness of my non-violent approach and force was required. Like the Mob, sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do, then fuggetabottit. So I whacked my first squirrel, as a message to his annoying relatives. I thought about mounting his head on a stick atop our birdhouse, or smearing his blood on my face as some sort of tribal Hoo-Yah. Having drawn first rodent blood, I expect that this will get easier and easier with time. The good news: with three red squirrels either relocated to another county or dead, there seems to be much less activity in our roof. When I’m sure the whole fam damily is gone, I’ll seal up the hole.

Warning! Political rant paragraph. I’m having a lot of trouble envisioning either Mitt Romney or Newt Gingrich as the front runners for the Republican party. So Gingrich beat Romney in S. Carolina, he doesn’t seem elect able to me. I don’t like Romney much either and I suspect that many of the younger voters won’t buy his brand of tuna. On top of all this, he’s rich, and apparently that is grounds for beheading in America right now. When the dust settles, like it or not Mitt is probably the guy, so give Newt and the Teabaggers the Bronx cheer, and get your party aligned ASAP. If you don’t, you commit hari kari before you even enter the race. What concerns me most is that, as the economy starts to plateau or turn upwards, which it may now begin to do, Obama’s a shoe in no matter who the elephants put up. If you listened to Obama’s State of Union speech last Tuesday, and if you read between the lines, it was all about increased government spending. I think Indiana Gov. Mitch Daniels, the guy who made the GOP response speech to Obama’s State of the Union address, made the best case for choosing a fiscally conservative Republican candidate. He was miles above Newt or Mitt in communication skills, and he has a normal name. As for Obama’s campaign directive, “eat the rich” might fly with some people, but I’ll wager there are even members of the shrinking middle class that don’t buy that jive. It’s divisive and playing Robin Hood won’t work. It sounds good, and I completely understand the indignation of everyone who‘s been screwed by Wall Street. Unbridled greed did get us into this mess, but for the record, that was bi-partisan greed. We all drank the Koolaid, let’s not point fingers. As for increasing the tax burden on the rich, absolutely, close the loopholes, try and make the tax code simpler and fairer. I think the tax code as it stands now is unfair. Change it, and keep a lid on irresponsible banking and investment practices. While you’re at it, change the campaign funding rules to better favor eligible candidates who don’t have boatloads of money. But don’t lead the American people to believe that simply changing tax rates and hamstringing the evil corporations, who g-d forbid are in the business of making money, will be the magic bullet. Ask Main Street if the Obama administration has been good for business. $700 Billion of taxpayer money spent, and unemployment is still through the roof.

Can cold make you lose weight? I watched a news story about a study which suggests that lowering body temperature by a few degrees can cause brown fat cells to burn at a surprising rate. But hold your horses Hoss, before you move to Fargo, N.D. as your weight loss strategy, you might want to wait for a little more research. There are plenty of fat people in Buffalo and it gets really cold there in the winter. Finally, I need look no further than the Toronto Star for the news that matters to me. On page four of last week’s Saturday Star was a little article which read “Windsor outraged by dwarf tossing event.” Some bar sponsored a dwarf tossing competition last Saturday and some local residents feel this is an indignity to little people. I won‘t argue with this, but do we really need legislation to protect the dwarfs? I think this falls into the consenting adults category, and where the deed becomes an assault, deal with it accordingly; there are laws governing assault. Apparently, a Member of Parliament representing Windsor felt it did require legislation, and in 2003 introduced the failed Dwarf Tossing Ban Act. You tax dollars at work. Up here in Katrine, I’m thinking of introducing a new sport: squirrel snow blowing. The folks at PETA might be all over me on this one. Aside from the obvious catharsis of watching these destructive little pests spread out on my snowy front lawn like bad art, it IS a bit extreme. I suppose this would prompt an MP up here to sponsor the Squirrel Snowblowing Ban Act. Hey, I’m a peaceful man, but I’m ready to “get medieval” on some pesky rodents if they keep pushing my buttons. Sooner or later I’m gonna (snow)blow. Speaking of snow, we got about a foot yesterday here in the Great White North. Finally.

Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2012 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 1/23/12

Who’s driving that thing anyway? Looks like that infamous Captain Schettino of the Costa Concordia cruise ship, which ran aground off the coast of Northern Italy last week, is screwed . Turns out he strayed from the normal route and went perilously close to shore in order to do a “cruise by“ for some people he wanted to impress. “Hey Luigi, over here … look at me, ahma captain of this big cruise ship!" He claims it was an accepted practice, condoned by the cruise company to better advertise the ship. But come on, were those not charted waters? That’s like doing a fly by 300 yards off the ground in a 747. I love how he claims he “fell” into a lifeboat and that’s his excuse for abandoning ship. Women, children, and cowards first. With about fourteen dead passengers recovered so far, and some still unaccounted for, the wrongful death class action suits will likely be catastrophic for Carnival Cruises. Hey, maybe I can get a deal on a cruise.

We have a new problem at Jasper Bark Lodge which we never saw coming. As the house shrinks and moves, and all log homes do, small openings have appeared in several areas where our roof meets the log walls. For months now we have been noticing the sounds of little critters scampering around in the crawl space of our roof, and we have determined that they are squirrels; red squirrels to be more specific. As the weather has finally turned colder, they are setting up camp for the winter. The other day, I saw one carrying nesting material and a small microwave up to his new front door, and I can hear him digging up the blown in insulation. There is some kind of major construction project going on up there and I am very concerned. At one point I had a staring contest with one of these little critters, and if I can read the expression on his furry little face it read “What are YOU looking at, asshole?!” Aside from the fact that it would be inhumane, poisoning them is not an option because they might die in the roof. We definitely don‘t want that. I will reluctantly shoot them if push comes to shove, after all, this is a pest issue. Shauna is an animal lover and I have reluctantly agreed to try the trap and relocate option. If this does not work, it’s the lead lunch for Fuzzy. I have relied on my local trapper friend Rob, the guy who looks like a cross between Davy Crockett and Festus from Gunsmoke. He assures me squirrel’s good eatin’ but I’m not about to find out. The other day he showed up in a vintage Skidoo carrying two live traps, which we immediately set, using peanuts as bait. Within an hour, I had my first prisoner. So far so good. I drove him about twelve miles away and set him free near a landfill site. As soon as I let him out of his trap, he bee-lined it in the exact direction of our house. He’ll have to cross two major highways, and make a few left turns but I wouldn’t be surprised if the little bastard makes it back to our house in time for the weekend. Then it’s “say hello to my leettle friend!”

I had not heard from my cousin in Corvallis Oregon for some time and when I did, he asked me to go to his Facebook page, which I did on Friday. Corvallis and the surrounding area has been hit by heavy flooding from the overflowing Mary River and has been declared a disaster area. The courageous Congresswoman Gabby Giffords has decided to bow out of politics for the time being. The Patriots will play the Giants in Superbowl 46 and I’ll wager that the semi final games, which were both close, will prove to be a lot more interesting to watch. Went to the Toronto boat show last weekend and while the show itself is getting kind of old (hardly any high performance offshore boats this year) my friend Ned came with his two boys, and it was entertaining to see two next generation boaters scampering around investigating all the vessels dad can’t afford. As always, the other major source of entertainment was watching my surly best friend Bob harassing some of the more clueless boat salesmen. “Oh yeah? well that thing would break in half on Lake Erie!” What is amusing is how remarkably little some of these boat salesmen know about actual boating.

Time to go. The traps are not working and it’s time to go pop some rodents.

Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2011 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report - 1/16/12

Certainly one of the big news stories last week in the States, were the Iowa caucuses and the New Hampshire primaries. Are you asleep yet? These primaries are supposed to be some kind of barometer for the inclinations of the Republican party, but all I see is the divisiveness. I look at the Republican party right now and see a very similar phenomenon to the situation at the end of Dubya’s first term. If you’re the incumbent no matter how badly you screw up, no matter how badly you score in the popularity polls, you are the devil we know. All Bush needed to do was sit back and watch the Democrats eat each other alive and he was a shoe in. Now the tables are turned and Obama will enjoy the same good fortune. The fact is, the election process favors the incumbent (if he can keep it in his pants and does not get caught committing any felonies), or the opposition party member (if he or she is not a complete flake) with the biggest war chest. Right now it looks like that guy is Mitt Romney. Until we change campaign funding rules, we’re going to get the guys that big money picks. Rick Santorum seems to be the exception to that rule, but who cares if he shot his wad and won Iowa? Speaking of shooting one’s wad, I thought Stephen Colbert was kidding, but Google “Santorum” and see what comes up first. Apparently some indignant member of AGR (Angry Gay Republicans) with above average computer skills and a bone( r ) to pick has creatively besmirched Mr. Santorum’s name on the world‘s most popular search engine. Is nothing sacred? I found the ensuing debate over said insult entertaining. Again, what I find more telling about the Santorum win is how divided the Republican party is. I wondered if Santorum “Tebowed” when he won. BTW, I’m so happy to see that homophobic evangelists are once again guiding the good ship Elephant, at least in Iowa.

Nicotine is good for you, I heard it on CNN. Health benefits? Improved memory in older people.
When I turn eight-five, I’m going to start smoking again, if I remember. Finally, justice for the murderous Joran van der Sloot! You may recall van der Sloot was the prime suspect in the disappearance of Natalie Holloway five years ago in Aruba. Although van der Sloot was never convicted of killing her, everyone believed he did it. He finally confessed to killing a woman in Peru and will likely go to the Big House, albeit not for very long. Talk about a guy who deserves the needle. Too bad he doesn’t live in Mississippi where the outgoing Gov. Haley Barbour just pardoned 200 violent criminals. Very comforting to know these psychopaths are floating around in society, and thank goodness for goddesses like Nancy Grace for reminding us of this ad nauseam. I’m concerned about the escalating tensions between Iran and the U.S. after the assassination of that nuclear scientist in Tehran last Wednesday. While on the surface America does not condone that kind of sneaky violence, I suspect we tacitly support it. And speaking of bad press, isn’t it amazing the damage one viral YouTube video can do to already fragile international relations? That clip of American Marines peeing on Afghan corpses was disturbing to say the least, and brings back memories of the Abu Ghraib scandal back in 2006. What is even more disturbing is the hornet’s nest it will stir up. No doubt that that video will enrage Muslims, which it was likely intended to do, and imperil all troops presently in Afghanistan. And finally …thinking about cruising the Mediterranean coast of Italy? You might want to reconsider a Costa Cruise after the Costa Concordia went aground and flipped sideways, trapping and killing some of its passengers. Three passengers were confirmed dead so far and 17 were still missing as of Sunday night. Most disturbing was the apparent un-preparedness of the captain and crew. Passengers interviewed after the accident complained of the chaos on board; they were essentially left to fend for themselves after receiving conflicting instructions from the clueless crew. According to one BBC article I read, the captain complained that his charts were faulty. Right, the dog ate my homework. Another report claimed that harmonic distortion may have caused the ship to lose power and steer it uncontrolled into a reef. Huh? I guess it doesn’t help matters when the giant ship (I think it was the largest cruise ship in Italy) flips over sideways, making it impossible to launch some of the lifeboats. With 4000 on board that could be problematic. This is a big Oops! for parent company Carnival Cruises, and it may be time to get Kathy Lee Gifford back on board for some damage control. Guess when she went down (I mean the ship you perverts) … you guessed it, Friday the 13^th. Spooky eh?

Next week, I head south for the Toronto International Boat Show. Rumor has it there’s an outboard motor there with my name on it. - Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2011 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report -- 1/9/12

About two weeks ago, the logs were delivered for the new pump house, but as I began writing this report last Thursday they still sat neatly piled on our side yard. Thankfully the ground is frozen, because part of that heavy load was sitting atop our septic bed. Bad weather and then the holidays postponed building plans. All the logs were tarped, but snow makes any outdoor building project that much harder, and with the lake effects we sometimes get off Georgian Bay, we were racing against Mother Nature to get this building up. To complicate matters, the sub-zero temperatures of late interfere with the proper operation of the hydraulic equipment on the stacking crane. Thankfully, Friday was mild and they were able to get the crane down our driveway and the logs stacked. This morning (Monday) I awoke to the sound of a chainsaw as our carpenter made a few last minute adjustments to the roof beams and evened out the tails. Memories of the construction of the main house came back to haunt me. People build up here all winter, and in fact, when we began the main house, the builder was talking about enclosing the entire project in one of those heated inflatable structures. That never happened, nor did many other things that builder promised us, but the house was finally built, albeit with many setbacks. I have clear memories of the head carpenter, up on a scaffold adjusting the logs for the roof turrets, in a snowstorm shortly before Christmas. With a three inch long icicle of frozen snot dangling from his bright red nose, he looked down at me with an indescribable look of frustration, and I just shrugged. Custom log homes are hard enough to build in warm weather.

At present there has been quite a lot of activity on my parents’ house in Buffalo, especially considering the season, and with any luck, we might entertain an acceptable offer soon. Before we listed, I ordered a conservative fair market appraisal of the house, because I wanted a realistic benchmark with which to work. We’ve had several offers, and one we are now considering, but one was a real lowball. They say you should not get personal about selling your real estate, but that has proven harder than I expected. People come in and make ill-informed, subjective comments about your home in an attempt to justify their unreasonable offers. In a down market, you just suck it up and expect the bottom feeders, but it’s tough to watch your childhood home being offered to people who have no respect for it’s value. I know I should just shrug it off and leave the aggravation to our very capable agent, but I can’t help feeling somebody is screwing with my memories. When I sold my house in Buffalo, long after moving up to Toronto, I sold it in a soft market. The lady who bought the house was, how shall I put this delicately, an odious, despicable and unreasonable bitch. In retrospect, I was right to cut bait, and I still made money on the house. Nevertheless, when I listed the house, my first home and the one I’d lived in for over fifteen years, I naively hoped the new owner would be good karma. More often than not, the sale of one‘s home is not a pleasant experience. I found myself secretly hoping that the garage, which was becoming a parallelogram and in need of some serious shoring up, would collapse the day after closing. I even entertained the option of helping it along with a few well placed M-80’s.

I’ve got an old friend from my boarding school days who lives down in Vero Beach, and he is one of my most consistent sources of off-color internet humor. “Harve” as we call him (not his real name) sent me one that made me chuckle when I opened up my email this morning. The caption reads: “I opened my window and what did I see?” When I scrolled down there was the moving image of a snowman fornicating doggie style with another snowman, and the caption reads: “F-ing snow!!!” Another winner came to me several days ago in the form of a You Tube link on Facebook, and it was a video of a mariachi band performing Pink Floyd’s famous song The Wall. I saw that video and it made me belly laugh because it reminded me of a vacation I took long ago with my pal Bob down in Cancun. Every evening as we capitalized on the 2 for 1 happy hour in our hotel (“… but senior, you realize that when you order four drinks it is really eight?!”) we were treated to live music by some local Mexican drum machine band playing top forty hits from America. We watched the lovely young female vocalist sing the Beatles tune Yesterday, playing the entire musical accompaniment with one finger on her keyboard, every night for a week. By the end of the week, usually after our fourth or fifth bourbon, we were quietly singing along, waving one finger in the air: “Yes-tah-daay , all ma trouble seem so fah away, now it seem as though they heah to staaay, oh Ah bu-lieve in yes-tah-day.” “Mammaries, Light the corners of my mind…”

Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2011 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report - 1/2/12

Happy New Year gentle readers! Did you whack your piñatas; did you flounder forlorn or feast festively through your First Night? Did you trip the light fantastic (whatever that means)? Did you get conflobulated and then drive home drunk with all the amateurs? The only thing I drive drunk is the porcelain bus. The last time Shauna and I went out for New Year’s Eve was well over ten years ago, and we did the black tie and gown gig. Based on the experience we may never do it again. We were living in Toronto at the time and a well known restaurateur had opened up a fancy restaurant within walking distance from our apartment. Because this guy was an old acquaintance of the Taylors, Shauna and I decided to attend his fancy black tie New Year’s Eve celebration. Bad choice, it was a complete disaster. The waiters got drunk and screwed up everyone’s orders, the band was set up in a hallway, partially blocking the only access to the bathroom, the food was unsatisfactory, horribly late, and courses were served in the wrong order. Our salads were served after desert. To make matters worse, we’d brought along a guest who knew a bit about fine dining, and he must have thought we were crazy for bringing him to this madhouse. Occasionally I like to get dressed up, but I think going to a fancy restaurant on New Year’s Eve is asking for trouble. When I lived in Buffalo we used to go downtown to watch the ball drop and listen to the live band, then we did our heavy partying when we got home. Shauna and I have for the past ten years decided not to go anywhere on New Years Eve. This year we have Shauna’s parents up here with us in the Great White North. I toyed with the idea of appointing Shauna the designated driver and attending the nearby and much-touted New Year’s Eve celebration at the Katrine Community center. I’ve attended several of the galas at this venue and can say from experience that they are special. There we would have been treated to a live band, dancing, and a sumptuous midnight buffet --you haven‘t lived until you’ve tried the moose Wellington -- all for the very reasonable admission charge of twenty bucks per head. I didn’t think my father-in-law could wait until midnight to eat, and I wasn’t prepared to listen to him whine about it while I enjoyed a rousing rendition of “You Picked a Fine Time to Leave me Lucille,” as interpreted by several local musicians with their out-of-tune instruments. Instead, we celebrated at the world famous Jasper Bark Lodge, I had my obligatory six malt beverages, we had a sumptuous feast, and then watched the sexually ambiguous but always amusing banter between Anderson Cooper and the ever-edgy Kathy Griffin, live from Times Square. CNN became our new tradition for New Year’s Eve when Dick Clark handed over the reins to that bubble head Ryan Seabreeze. Since his crippling stroke, “the world’s oldest living teenager” still makes a courageous guest appearance each New Year’s Eve, but it’s not the same, and that annoying Seabreeze doesn't cut the cake for me. I get enough of his twititude on American Idol, and I will not allow him to sully my New Year’s celebration with his inane narcissism. While everyone’s looking for a new way to usher in the new year, my particular favorite is to watch “Sushi” the transvestite lowered in a glass slipper from the second story of a building in Key West. Now that’s entertainment.

As the celebrities continue to crash and burn (who would have thought Katy Perry and Russell Brand were not destined to spend the rest of their lives together in marital bliss???), the Republican candidates eagerly await the results of the Iowa caucuses to predict which bozo has a cold chance in hell of overthrowing Obumble, as the world economy continues to sputter, and the Middle East continues to quake and rumble, I look ahead to the new year with ever-lowering expectations. I’m always hoping for more tolerance and love, but how does one accomplish this? In an era when communication seems to be in inverse proportion to information received, I don’t know how we can teach people to listen or be more charitable. I can only hope that 2012 will be the year we focus on better role models. They are out there everywhere if we simply shine a light on them. With my vast influence and exceptional communication skills, I intend to do my part. Will you? Be good parents; be good children. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a date with the porcelin bus.



Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2011 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED