BBs, Tanagers and the Media.

A day ago, I found a good bit of the bbs for my slingshot (used to discourage the possum from the fruit trees and the cat from the birds) scattered all over the front gallery in the house. This is odd; they were in an open plastic container but there was hardly enough wind to scatter them while the container remained in place.

Odd.

Yesterday morning, as I worked on the computer and the assorted tanagers and other birds dined on bananas, I suddenly hear bbs hitting the wooden floor. Engrossed in work, the sound registered but I didn't investigate immediately... the

TAP tap tap tap
TAP tap tap tap
TAP tap tap tap

on the wooden floor slowly made it's way into a part of my brain that jumps up and down and waves flags. So I get up, I look. There's a palm tanager there. It's picking the bb's up, one by one, and tapping them against the concrete wall - then, realizing each won't open, drops it.

TAP tap tap tap

The bird is at no risk, because as dumb as people think birds are, they know if it can't be cracked, the nut isn't any good. So I watched, and the mystery of the scattered bbs made way for the reality of the fact that the bbs were not the color of the seeds, but had the shape of the seeds of the limonella tree downstairs which the tanagers favor. Then I thought again. The closer the bird gets to the bb, because of its coloration, the more like a limonella see the bb would look. It's color, reflected, looked edible. There's something deep in that.

Needless to say, I picked up the bbs again and covered them with an opaque piece of plastic.

Suddenly, I remembered a joke that I was told in the Navy - a sea story, therefore it might be true. It goes like this:

That's Not It

A sailor suddenly starts a strange behavior - walking around the base and picking up pieces of paper on the ground. Each time, he crumples it up and throws it over his shoulder, saying in a clear voice:

That's not it.

There is no excitement. He looks dazed. He sees nothing else. When he eats, he stares at his food and chews methodically. He's heard in the bathroom; entire rolls of paper are found unrolled on the ground. Nothing is safe. It's a mystery. Within a few days of the onset, the Chief has him go see the shrink.

He has to fill out paperwork to see the Doc, but he keeps crumpling it up and saying

That's not it

until finally, the Doc hands him a Rorschach inkblot test and asks the sailor what he sees. Their eyes meet for a second as the sailor's world seems interrupted by paper and a voice. He looks down at the paper carefully...

That's not it

The doctor tries other tests with the exact same results. A medical board convenes, and after a few months they find the sailor unfit for duty. He goes to PSD (Personnel Support Detachment) to sign his Section 8 and discharge papers, but they've been warned. He is ushered into a room, the paper is fastened under plastic and taped down with the signature open so that it can be signed. They hand him a pen, he signs... usher him back outside. Within, a senior sailor takes the copies, files them appropriately, and takes the sailor's copy and places it in an envelope. He seals it, goes outside and hands it to the sailor after explaining it's his, he's out of the Navy, and whatever he does with it is his business.

The sailor calmly opens the envelope with a fingernail, opens the copy of his discharge, reads it carefully... and says....

That's it. Thank you.

Smiling, he tips his cover and leaves.

The Media

Digging through a backpile of emails and RSS feeds yesterday, I felt a lot like the sailor above. It happens every day, but the tanager brought it into focus. I spend a lot of time looking at stuff thinking, 'that's not it'. And then, like the tanager, I sometimes find things that look like it but when I knock them against the concrete... I drop them in the floor and look for another one in the same containers. It's almost robotic at times; it's inhuman how many times the same headlines will show up in a week in both RSS, email, and aggregation sites. It's disturbing. No matter where you start looking for stuff, the same groups of people figure it out and dilute it.

It's a neverending search for the real versus That's not it. It's a clearing house for the insane; a headline echoes for roughly one week... and it's probably echoed by people who are in the same shoes, who are overwhelmed by the sheer volume of That's not it being put out. Blogs echo That's not it, the bad ones adding no value or discussion - just the same That's not it. Some of them don't even try to shuffle the words (It's Not That?).

But every day, so many people go through the headlines - on the internet, in the newspaper, on television and on the radio... and I wonder if we were to say That's not it aloud... I wonder what this planet would sound like?

That's not itTAP tap tap tap
That's not it TAP tap tap tap
That's not it TAP tap tap tap
That's not it TAP tap tap tap
That's not it TAP tap tap tap

Ahh well. Back to it tomorrow.

That's it. Thank you.