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14 Jan
Temperature 15º above 0. Snowing. Got to go to Montreal.

16 Jan Temperature 8º below 0. Sunny. There is between 3 and 4 feet of snow in the wood. A real good winter for snow.

30 Jan Temperature 32º above 0. Rain and freezing on all over the north country. No school in any of them. Rain all day. Temperature went up to 44 above 0. Snow went down some more.

4 Feb Temperature 6º above 0. Cloudy, windy, stormy. No schools in local schools around today. Barometer down to 29. Road closed from Lyon Mountain to Dannemora.

26 Feb Temp. 22º above 0. Cloudy, windy, snowy. No school in local schools. Roads bad. There was about 1 foot of snow fell.

27 Feb Temp 16º above 0. Partly cloudy, school today. About 4 to 6 inches of snow last nite. Some claim up to 2 feet of snow.

14 Mar Temp 30º above 0. Cloudy. 24 inches of ice in the lake.

30 Mar Temp 18º above 0. Dogs are killing deer on the upper lake. We got four doe in one place at the old Jack Clifford Camp, 2 and 1 year old, and had 1 (apiece) fawn in them. There was 18 or 20geese on the upper lake today. No open water.

5 April Temp 38º above 0. Cloudy, foggy, rain. I know where there is 29 dead deer up at the upper lake area killed by dogs or coyotes

6 April–Easter Sunday. Temp 28º above 0. Clear, sunny. A little dust for snow last nite. Real nice day.

I found 29 dead deer killed by dogs between South Inlet and the Bluff. There is some more that other fellows found.

17 April Temp 50º above 0. Cloudy. Ice is getting black-looking. The water is up high this spring in the lake.

20 April Temp 20º above zero. Clear, sunny. I went with Carmen Merrill with snowsleds to Indian Point yesterday. He has found a blind deer. We could not find it yesterday.

22 April Temp 28º above 0. Cloudy, raining. Lake has gone down about 1 foot in the last four days. A lot of ice left yet.

27 April Temp 40º above 0. Cloudy. Rained last nite. Ice is down at this end of the lake this morning.

The ice went out of the lake today. It broke up and floated around until it disappeared. Two boys went swimming off the Banner House dock today. Young [John] Glennon and Bradley Perry. Rushing the season.

10 May Rain, snow most all day. Cold. A little sunshine. The peas are up in the  garden. Corn is sprouted. I planted some potatoes and some more corn and lettuce, radishes last weekend.

30 May Temp. 58. Cloudy. Rained last nite. Sunshine most of the day. Put the rest of the garden in. Marty, Johnny, Susan and I went fishing up at Blair’s Kilns with the canoe. They were  biting pretty good.

1 July I came down with the mumps.

4 July Nice day. We had green peas for the 4th. Real good garden.

26 Oct. Second day of deer season. A little rain with a little sunshine. Johnny and I went up back awhile.

16 Nov Johnny and I went deer hunting awhile today. Saw one deer. A little snow.

8 Dec Rain most of all day

It was real poor deer hunting this fall. I didn’t get a shot at one. Only saw four deer–two was fawns and I don’t know what the other two were. There was very few killed this fall. There was too many killed by dogs last winter.

18 Dec Temperature 8º above 0. Clear, cold. There is 6.5 inches of ice in the lake. There is about 6 inches of snow in the woods.

25 Dec Temperature 16º below 0. Clear & cold. 18º above 0 at noon. Partly cloudy.

26 Dec Temp 14º above 0. Cloudy, snowing and windy. Snowed hard all day at least 8 inches.

27 Dec. About 2 feet of snow has fell in the last two days. The wind is blowing. We went to Norwood to Steven and JoAnn’s wedding today. Susan was flower girl. The roads were in tough shape. We made good time.

28 Dec Temp 16º above 0. Windy, cloudy. Snowy the first part of the day. We got 2 to 2.5 feet of snow this storm. It was all over Central Western and Eastern part of NY State into New England and around Montreal and eastern Canada.

On the way back down the hill, Ashley noticed two big piles of cat poop; they were old. I wonder what kind of critter’s been hanging out back there. One of them was right back of mom’s trailer. I’m not surprised; after all, Panther Mountain is only two hills away to the south.

During yesterday’s trip to the Wildlife Center at Tupper Lake, there was a short film that confirmed that panthers are on the rebound in the Adirondacks. The DEC says not; they are either not admitting it or need to get out in the woods more often. The plaster of paris mold that I saw was about the same size as the fresh tracks I saw a few years ago back of the Banner House mine.

After a brief lunch to recharge, and encouraged by the thought of more berries, we went across the lake up the Blair Kilns road. We cleaned up on the old Atkinson farm, where I saw my own big pile of bear poop. Enormous! And fresh. Kirby Cook drove by on his way into hunting camp.

Then we went a little further back towards the kilns, taking a side road that led to an old logging landing. I parked the RV, and we quickly found the mother lode. The black bears have been in there something wicked; there were huge paths where they’ve been working the berry patch. We quickly filled our buckets, but will have to return next weekend, as there were lots of red ones “big as your thumb” and I anticipate some pie soon.

We drove down to Chateaugay; on the way back we stopped at Harrigan’s and bought a quart of vanilla soft ice cream to have with the berries. I think I’ve been slated to cook shish kebabs this evening.

Then we drove over to the Eddie farm, where we found a few apples, though not enough for a pie. We’ll have to return tomorrow for the rest!

While we were out, Nellie Lamb called, looking for Soulia Mountain. I’m unsure how she missed it, but I gave her directions. She said there’s an old cemetery in there; I’m not surprised at this revelation.

The beginning of fall has been great but I hear cold temps will be here in no time.

Chateaugay Record May 27, 1921.

Infuriated by food stamps, illiteracy among the aging and senile, and bad weather, Mr. Dolinsky had been attracted to Bohemia both by the pretty girls and the beaches he had seen on the posters at the Office of the Travel Bureau. Now, aliented by new trends and styles, he was depressed, so he had sold his gooseberry plantation and classic 1978 Z-28 Camaro, not really knowing what the future would bring his way.

After what seemed like at least ten long unbearable seconds, he monorail finally arrived. As he took his seat, he couldn’t help but notice everyone else aboard was also donning pink sunglasses similar to his!

The trip to Zanzadorion had taken seven entire minutes, but Dukeyshoot was now very fatigued. Once the monorail stopped, he decided to search for lodging. At the monorail exchange he made a beeline to the phone booth. Once inside, the door immediately slammed itself shut, and Dukeyshoot was aware of a gas entering the small enclosed space. His last conscious observation was that of two men with shaved heads, wearing pink sunglasses and peering in at him as if he were on display.

As he awoke, Dukeyshoot was aware that he was swinging by his feet from a rope suspended from a skyhook. Dismayed at first, Dukeyshoot suddenly had an inspirational thought: his trick pink punk-rock sunglasses were especially equipped for such dire emergencies. He took them off, and pressed one of the buttons located on the nosebridge. His glasses smoked, rattled, and made a sudden transformation into a switchbalde. He cut the ropes securing his feet, and by holding onto the skyhook, inverted himself to an upright position.

Dukeyshoot Dolinsky was now free to do as he pleased, so he decided to do the only thing available other than letting go of the skyhook, which was to climb to the top, and find out what he was doing swinging from a skyhook in the middle of a void.

Originally from Norfolk, Virginia, the band had been assigned temporary duty aboard the USS Radford, a destroyer. Commencing in early July, the band flew to various cities and ports through the Latin American and Caribbean region, accompanying a small fleet of ships, a submarine, as well as an AWACS surveillance plane on a mission to show the US flag abroad. Lodging mostly in resort hotels, the band also stayed on board the destroyer whenever they played in a seaport whenever available.

The first sign of trouble was not immediately evident. The band had been preparing for the transfer for the transfer of musical equipment and personal effects from the destroyer to a military transport plane ten miles distant. In other places on-board and around the ship, crewmen were at their diverse duties preparing for the ship’s departure from Santo Domingo in the Domincan Republic.

Unnoticeable at first, an eerie sense of tension soon descended upon the band members, until it was soon quite obvious that something was wrong. When the UDT/SEAL team went on duty in combat fatigues and armed with shotguns, grenade-launchers and M-16 submachine guns, most of the non-essential bystanding crew members had found a reasonably secure shelter below deck.

Being in a non-combative situation, the band was normally dressed in tropical white dress uniforms, which always made them an easy target for communist terrorists, who at the time were seeking to make spectacular political statements against the United States by creating bloody spectacles. Treaties between the US and the Dominican Republic prohibited US forces from carrying arms in order to protect Americans inside the country. Whenever terrorists threatened groups such as the Navy Band, which was usually all the time, the normative practice was for the host country to provide protection for the band in the form of a few servicemen armed with burp guns who would accompany the band during their official travels to and from concerts. Demonstrations by pro-leftist and Communist groups, onstage verbal abuse as well as the occasional bomb threat were quite commonplace in the daily routine of a Navy musician, and over the time these occurrences became mere inconveniences.

The official word finally came from the admiral as to why all the extra security precautions were being taken. An anonymous phone caller had contacted the American embassy and warned of an attack against the ship; if that attempt failed, the terrorists were going to blow up the plane destined to fly the admiral and his staff (including the band) back to Norfolk, VA. The Dominican Republic government agreed to provide a small handful of marines to protect all American servicemen being transported from the ship to the airfield, a distance of several miles. The band was responsible for transporting all of their gear, including all conceivable instruments and electric hardware associated with playing in a rock and roll band, from the ship to a truck on the pier, which would then be driven to the airport along with the admiral’s staff. However, there were additional considerations the band members had not been aware of, for soon the truck was not only loaded with band gear, but also with the personal effects of a few dozen staff members. Now the truck was carrying twice as much cargo, and it would take twice as long to get everything transferred from the truck to the plane.

Inevitably, everything was eventually loaded onto the truck and all military personnel were on board the busses, which were then driven to the airfield, and accompanied by the foreign soldiers. The drive from the pier to the plane, although probably brief, was one that seemed to be much longer because of the anxiety everyone was now experiencing. Ambush, attack, or bloodshed was now definitely a possibility.

Upon arrival at the airport, everyone swiftly assumed his assigned duties, attempting to do their tasks in the smooth, cool, and professional manner that they were used to. It was my job, assisted with the help of a man named Fletcher, to unload the truck containing all of the gear that was piled several feet high, and to pass everything to a human chain of other band members that were on the ground or inside the plane. Although we were quickly getting the job done in an efficient manner, the admiral’s chief-of-staff, a commander of flag rank, came by to shriek at us to complete the transfer of equipment by the appointed take-off time, which was in three minutes! He informed us that we would be left behind if we failed in our duties. Meanwhile, encircling the aircraft, facing the jungle and prepared for siege were the foreign soldiers. From our vantage point on top of the band gear and staff luggage, Fletcher and I would be able to see beyond the soldiers into the jungle in case of an attack from terrorists.

We didn’t unload the gear in three minutes. Nevertheless, the aircraft did land in Norfolk a few hours later without any further incidents. The musicians, who resented the extra pressure from the high brass, especially had a significantly relaxed atmosphere prevailing amongst them. With many adventures behind them to divulge to their awaiting friends and loved ones, another cruise had ended. The musicians, deprived of sleep for months, could now rest… at least until the next tour!

The Navy Band in Guam had a mission that is primarily ceremonial. Occasionally, when transportation was available, the eighteen-piece band that was part of the commanding admiral’s staff accompanied the admiral when he visited the sundry islands throughout the region, playing ceremonies, giving concerts, and acting as United States representatives. Transportation, when available, always referred to the type of available aircraft.

On one such off-island journey, an ancient and decrepit World War II C-117 (like a DC-9) twin-propeller cargo plan was available for transport. The mission was to accompany the admiral and his aides, their wives, the Navy Band as well as the Undersecretary of the Interior on a three-day trip that included the islands of Truk, Yap, Palau and Ulithi; the band was to play ceremonial music whenever ordered.

On the morning of departure, a temse atmosphere prevailed aboard the C-117 while several enlisted mechanics scrambled in their attempts to make last-minute repairs to one of the engines. Bandsmen loaded their instruments as well as the various sets of luggage and scuba-diving equipment belonging to the VIPs. Also loaded and stowed onboard the aircraft were other items vitally important to diplomatic protocol: three full cases of scotch, vodka as well as a case of beer. Onboard the aircraft meanwhile, the crewemen were obviously apprehensive, stressing repeatedly that the plane not be overloaded. In a final attempt to lighten the load, two bandsmen were ordered to vacate their seats, as of all military personnel onboard, the musicians were most expendable.

As the engines started, thick clouds of black smoked billowed into the atmosphere from the engines, but the plane commened take-off procedures as ordered. Shortly thereafter, the defective engine ceased to operate, and the conspiruously overloaded aircraft began to decline in altitude.

The C-117 is designed to fly on one engine is necessary, as long as the aircraft is not overloaded. However, this was not the case on that morning, and the order was made to ride the aircraft of its unnecessary cargo. Wisely, band instruments were the first to make the plunge into the ocean, as the crew opened the hatches and threw them into the sea below. However, the plane was still overloaded with cargo as it descended rapidly to the ocean surface. Next to be thrown overboard were the cases of booze; had they not been, an outcome even more catastrophic than what was to come could have resulted.

A crash landing in the ocean was now manifest. Preparations were made for an emergency landing, as crewmembers valiantly assisted people into their seats with little regard for their own safety.

Upon impact, the aircraft bounced, skimming irregularly over the surface of the ocean, with the fuselage finally rupturing at the wings into two pieces. Of two men who were passengers on the plane, there was not a trace. Killed were Scott Smith, a trombonist in the band, and one of the daring crewmen who assisted others to safety. However, these were not the only casualties.

In the ensuing rescue, there moments of extreme bravery as well as extreme selfishness and cowardice. The musicians were naturally denied permission to exit the aircraft until the VIPs had reached the safety of the inflatable liferafts. In the meantime, water was rapidly permeating the plane’s interior, causing it to sink. Belatedly, the bandsmen were finally allowed to leave the submerging airplane, but it was not until all were outside that someone noticed that a few people were not accounted for. Alarmed, an enlisted bandsman, himself severely injured in the back during the crash, swam back to the inside of the descending plane, and noticed a saxophone player trapped underneath two feet of water. The man was rescued, although a significant portion of his inner thigh was torn-out during the proceedings.

Once everyone was outside the plane (except the two drowned men), the aircraft swifly sunk to the bottom of the Marianas Trench, seven miles deep. There was now a wait of about forty-five minutes in which the surviviors either floated in the ocean or in rafts, depending on their hierarchy or injuries. A Coast Guard cutter eventually made the rescue, while a Soviet spy vessel silently observed the entire scene from a distance of three miles.

It is remarkable that the only individuals killed or seriously injured were either air-crewmen or musicians, except for one of the pilots who broke an ankle as he was jettisoned through the windshield as the aircraft impacted the ocean. Subsequent interviews with the mechanics who actually worked on the plane prior to take-off revealed that the plane was still unfit to fly. The fact that it was ordered to fly anyway, although those in authority knew that were was a serious problem is unjustifiable. Adding to this the unnecessary loss of life and serious injuries, the question of competency arises. An investigation was made, and with the admiral acting as the chief investigating officer, the findings were made classified. One month later, Rear Admiral David S. Cruden, ComNavMar and among the first out of the plane as well as to reach safety, was awared the Navy medal for heroism and valor.

Mr. Courtney,

Better good day.

We are owing to ABC no Rio for giving me your creative web site and leaving which for something from this in a sometimes gloomy city, a more exciting workstation to be with in contact from its information Media.

I am a creature, although I am not, which you are now calling a monster say, from the millions years before your time. I assume l that I am something as near troll. However from which you call the mesozoische, frozen I was under the Glacier-ice in those mountains Adirondack for thousands and thousands of the lonely years.

Most my tribe are dead, frozen with other ones of our kind. My brain in the many years were damaged now, I which remained enclosed in the large rock and ice system. Therefore do not remind me I much on my last life span, although for any reason I remain further alive, like some other different ones of my tribe. My appearance is, particularly my large pointed ears a little unusual; however I can hide those and my Horne under my longer hair. I avoid humans and although I in the middle in it their society can mix, me recently followed cases on these computers over your large city and its people.

I do not only use computers, in order to modify tones with digital electronics to mostly converse but others like I and thus in the morning-familiar with your technology to also possibly achieve but with your urban policy. I cannot speak your language with speech-tones, but have something learned of, as one writes and reads, with this keyboard writing. Forgive me please, if this does not use a little your words correctly.

These other dada-adirondackgebirgselektronischemusik composers of the far hills, of the faraway mountains Adirondack are frightened and upset at the senseless policy in New York town center, which is the guidelines, which are formed by the mayor Rudy.

The Main thing is to be: the northern human hill-people does not require a mayor Rudy to be a senator. We knows the fact that in ‘no dancing’ guideline in the city out and possibly is for you okay, but we are not for it. They are accustomed more with frenzy-dancing into these local bars and in nightclubs; we think that you should revolt the city people against this very same mental disorder. Also, he likes to abort new-art occurring in very these museum Brooklyn places, and perhaps you can inform of him to cease. If a mayor he not cease these rules of the idiots, then we will have to descend with these fartschnüffelncoonhunde on Versailles quickly to whip an ass. I should remind you that my users, they are farmers and woodcutters, tutor red plaidjagdjacken with similar trendy wool hats to possess.

They may not become this crap and not for it much longer to be, if he is a senator; soon it floats everyone out except on his cronies.

If you require, you can read these words to your other human activists at the Poesierecitals, in order to excite attention of all our citizens in these United States, therefore everyone knows about art, music and other free spirited activies in his unbelievable authoritarian positions towards.

Also he requires the system, salesmen does not sell their things on the side streets, but therefore many people come to New York town center to buy those things specifically. Many of my local human agricultural workers and friends bought the unique antiken art products, so that I display in my underground life workstation of the secret. Indeed if you are not a person with white skin, he steals your things as well as the cash, which the people gave you, and this is not right. The police disturbs the salesman each day, and is spoiling in that city.

Explain please to your people and its computer machinery over the many false things, which occur, which must do it somewhat fast, before they steal the whole our fun away.

Possibly you can write over this into a book, therefore knows everyone, evils of these mayors Rudy is. These SS politicians, are like the other stupid nazis, who enjoy their authoritarian guidelines.

I would like to explain also over the applicable concept of the Park Agency Adirondack, whose function is not, to always form these green hills but hunt humans of its country. If they can impose all here to be poor, they will all humans leave this land and then they will go to the city in which the police probably he will shoot them because they will catch up in their wallets to the public exposure that they do not have moneies or homes. Then the government will possess their earth and despoil it for the political of the owners of the tree. Already, they are much ruining the forest.

Who for all the possible suggestions thank you sincerely, of our difficult situation are considered.

Frankly, for your good advice,

Polypoppi de Hunsmire (Not Elmer Fudd)
Dada-AdirondackgebirgsElektronischemusik-Composers
Dem goldang Adirondack Hills
Chateaugay Lake, New York

PS

I am sad to hear that Jesus did not come on Y2K for this lady their man slept and it not at all fuck. The other woman, whose kundalinischlange rose, than its penis ascended her ass, hopes I the fact that her like those again once soon if not is pleased for AIDS.

Hunsmire Polypoppi, excommunicated from the Branson, Missouri timeshare business, flees from the Arkansas Good Ol Boy Mafia to the northern wilderness as a timeshare fugitive to compose weird neo-dada ism-isms. Upon arrival at ye olde homestead after an 11-year absence (doesn’t anyone here know me??), now nearly wasted away by the Bad Tenants (who cut down trees up on the hill and left junk all over my property), I join up as occasional saxophonist with (the) Boneyard, an authentic Blues Band with members from Right Down the Road.

Meanwhile, Sister Suzie comes up to move all of her remaining stuff from Ma’s House to her new loft in Williamsburg, down in the City. Suzie exorcises bad spirits from inside the house and convinces me to visit her during Halloween. Unaware of her devious-minded Master Plan, I agree to drive the truck with her stuff down to New York City, whereupon she immediately locks me away with Maggie, a one-eyed famous blind dog, Zulie, Sunny Ray-Ray (more dogs) and Gumbolina, the cat. Feeding me only beans and sprouts, Suzie sometimes allows me to leave in order that I may play my saxophone in the subway at Union Square and beg for money to buy pizza, unbeknownst to her. After attending the secret Vampyre Halloween Ball with Suzie and D Drennan, I escape the Big City on the Amtrak train and endure the 8-hour trek back north back to Chateaugay Lake.

Back home, I visit my my cherished friends Candy and Glenn at their cabin, hidden away somewhere in a field where you can view the St. Lawrence River. I work in my computer-music studio by night and sleep by day, occasionally playing the blues on weekends. I look for work in the depressed northern economy, which according to regional politicians, has been saved by the burgeoning State prison system, ‘which has been good for the local economy’. Hmm. After a ravenous feast whereupon I eat my fill of venison and fall into a drunken stupor, I decide to form The Chateaugay Lake Museum of Natural History, merely a vague concept of promoting virtual avante-garde. Several pieces of electronic music are converted from the digital archives and transformed for on-line amusement at the Museum during November.

Frustrated by the Furnace Situation, lack of sufficient funding and preparedness to deal with the impending onslaught of a severe northern winter, I leave my computers and music engines unprotected in my studio to seek my fame and fortune as Temp in New York City, the Big Ape, where it’s against the law to dance because Rudy the Mayor enforces the old cabaret laws. Returning to Williamsburg, I am once again locked away with the animals, subsist on a meager diet, but am allowed to work at my temp jobs, where i sneak out for pizza and bad food at lunch. I get to work in places like Warner Brothers, Calvin Klein, DC comics, and various other offices, where people work in toxic cubes. I finally wind up working for an advertising outfit, getting paid to ‘surf the web’ and do research prospecting leads. Meanwhile, I’m appointed by Sister Suzie as Executive Vice President of Pegasus Healing Systems, Inc., a massage company that provides services to corporate executives and web-development companies. My function at Pegasus is to formulate and carry out the Secret Plan.

Sometimes I sneak away at night in order to eat sushi, drink sake, go to punk-rock bars where I get into issues with seat-stealing females, and hang out in a performance space ‘that’s not a bar or a club’. One night I met my old collaborator Jack Sand at a club that’s not a performance space, where his band Arc was performing. Jack and I formulate plans to advance the Cause of Digital-Dada, and I look for good venues in which to do this…