As the Springsteen legend continued to grow throughout the 1970s, so did the legend of the Big Man. There was a special bond between Clarence and Bruce that many have seen and written about, most notably Clarence himself in his autobiography, Big Man: Real Life and Tall Tales. Clarence said, “When I first met him, I didn't want to let go, and he didn't want to let go. It's like you finally found out what you were looking for all your life artistically, creatively... We just talked about ourselves, about what we wanted in life. The connection is still there. I love being with him. I love being around him.”

During the E Street Band’s legendary four-hour concerts, Clemons and Steve Van Zandt alternated their roles as Springsteen’s onstage foils. Still, when it came time for the Boss to introduce his bandmates, the biggest and best introduction ever in rock and roll was bestowed upon Clemons. Superlative upon superlative was always piled on: “The King of the World, the Big Kahuna, the Prince of the City, the Duke of Paducah, Master of the Universe  — you want to be like him, but you can’t — do I have to say his name?” At which point, the crowds would be roaring their appreciation and love as the Big Man stepped forward into the spotlight. And that’s how I (and most of the rest of the world) knew Clarence Clemons.

It was sometime in the 1990s that I learned that Clarence had started hanging out in the Keys, mostly Islamorada. I first met him at a Seafood Festival during my term as Mayor of the City of Marathon. He was there jamming with Jen and Capt. Diego Cordova; I think I played that year, too. When we were introduced, and Clarence found out that I was the Mayor as well as a musician, I remember him saying, “You’re a musician and the mayor??? This is a cool town.”

Not long after, Clarence bought a house in Marathon. And a couple of years after our first meeting, the Big Man sat in with my band. It was a hot summer night at Dockside, and the word had gotten out around town because the place was packed. That night was one of the highlights of my musical life.

Our first set lasted an hour and a half. We did classic rock favorites and even some of my songs, and it was as if he’d been rehearsing with us forever. It was a little surreal to think that the guy playing saxophone right beside me was the same guy from the Born to Run album cover and all those classic songs, the most famous saxophone player in the world. At that time, my band did just one Springsteen song, and of course an audience member requested some Springsteen. “There’s no saxophone in ‘Hungry Heart,’” Clarence said after I called the song.

“Well, I always thought there should have been,” I said.

A big grin broke over Clarence’s face. “Me, too! Let’s do it the way it should have been done!” And we did. Ninety minutes after we started, dripping with sweat, we took a break. Clarence was immediately mobbed, and I watched with admiration as he talked to everybody who came up to see him.

About fifteen minutes into the break, Clarence waved me over to where he was holding court. He told me, “You guys are good, and that was fun. Would you mind if I played another set with you?” It didn’t take me very long to tell him he was welcome as long as he wanted to play. And I went home that night high as a kite over getting a compliment from a music legend.

After that night, I saw him a couple of other times — once with Bruce and the E Street Band in Miami, and again at the rally to save the Brass Monkey. I couldn’t get anywhere near him because everyone wanted to be around him. I thought I’d have another chance to jam with him or at least get him to autograph my copy of his autobiography. Unfortunately…

Even though he had endured multiple knee and back surgeries, Clarence was playing right up until the end. He played with Lady Gaga and appeared on American Idol. And he was supposed to have played the National Anthem for Game 2 of the NBA Finals, but a hand injury robbed us of the opportunity to see the Big Man on the Big Sports stage. Not long after, a stroke robbed us of ever seeing Clarence Clemons playing his saxophone again. The legacy he left behind will live forever, like Clarence himself, larger than life.

Rest in peace, Big Man. Thank you for 40 years — and one special night — of music.

   There was no better place to be a kid in the 1960s than Cape Canaveral (then Cape Kennedy). Rockets went off in my backyard. Not just Titans and Deltas, but honest-to-God Saturns. There was nothing quite as amazing as watching (and hearing and feeling) a Saturn V leave the launch pad and climb into the sky on a pillar of fire.

   I was born the same year Alan Shepard became the first American in space (1961), losing the first man in space honor by a few weeks to Soviet cosmonaut Yuri Gagarin. In 1963, my father took a job that led us to Florida’s Space Coast. He went to work as an engineer on the Saturn IB project, the rocket destined for the first Apollo missions.

   Needless to say, I wanted to be an astronaut more than anything. My favorite toy was a GI Joe in full astronaut regalia that came with a scale model replica of a Mercury capsule that GI Joe and his spacesuit fit into perfectly. We lived close enough to the Cape (on Merritt Island) to see the launches from our backyard. It was close enough to the launch sites so that our sliding glass patio doors would shake in their frames from the roar of the liftoff.

   When there would be test flights of the Saturn IB, my father was part of the launch crew, and would be locked down in the Launch Complex 34 blockhouse (a reinforced concrete bunker that housed Launch Control) until after a successful liftoff. On February 21, 1967, while my father was in the blockhouse, tragedy struck during a routine launch pad test of the first manned Apollo mission. A flash fire sparked inside the sealed 100% oxygen-enriched Apollo capsule, and astronauts Gus Grissom, Ed White, and Roger Chaffee were killed.

   This set the Apollo program back as the Command Module (capsule) had to be completely redesigned. My father’s last lockdown in the LC-34 blockhouse was the return of Americans into space, the launch of Apollo 7 on October 11, 1967. That was the last time Complex 34 was used; it sits abandoned in place on the Cape, a memorial to the crew of Apollo 1. (My family left the Cape before the first moon landing in 1969.)

   The last time the Saturn IB flew was in 1975 on the joint Apollo/Soyuz mission. In 1981, 20 years after Alan Shepard’s first flight, the Space Shuttle era began as Columbia blasted into orbit. Challenger, Discovery, and Atlantis joined Columbia as our fleet of reusable space vehicles. Unfortunately, the shuttle fleet was high-maintenance and cost more than was originally projected, but it served its purpose of getting people and large payloads into Earth orbit.

   On January 28, 1986, a solid rocket booster failure caused the disintegration of the Challenger 73 seconds after liftoff, killing all seven astronauts. It took two years and nine months before the next shuttle mission took off. Endeavour was the replacement shuttle, and it first flew in 1992.

   Tragedy struck again on February 1, 2003 as Columbia broke apart during reentry, killing its crew of seven astronauts. Two and a half years passed before the shuttle fleet flew again. By this time, completion of the International Space Station had become the Shuttle’s main mission. That mission will end on the final Space Shuttle flight, scheduled to be Atlantis on June 28.

   It’s hard to believe that the Shuttle has been ferrying astronauts and cargo into space for 30 years. It’s also hard to believe that 50 years after Alan Shepard’s first flight, that the United States will not have a launch vehicle that can take people into space, nor are there any active plans for NASA to develop one. We will have to rely on Russian Soyuz spacecraft until such time as a private company comes along and develops the next generation launch vehicle, or until we decide as a nation to resume our role as the world’s leader in peaceful space exploration. It was six years between the final Apollo flight and the first Shuttle flight. I wonder how many years it will be before the next American astronauts blast off from Cape Canaveral.

   And I sure hope my father is around to see it.

While we’re on the subject of diving, there are a few critical updates some of our visitors may not yet have heard. Perhaps the most critical update involves the dangerous, scary, venomous, and certainly non-native lionfish. (Cue horror music and bloodcurdling scream.) While not from around these parts, the lionfish have adapted quite well to their Keys reef surroundings, and are literally feasting on everything from our colorful tropical fish to juvenile lobster to, well, anything that will fit in its mouth. For those unfamiliar with the lionfish’s appearance, they’re not ugly – they’re a smallish striped fish with long flowing finger-like fins that make them attractive to aquarium keepers. At the end of those long finger-fins are venomous barbs that make the lionfish one of the untouchables of the undersea world. They have no local predators; not even the jewfish (okay, goliath grouper) will touch them. Even more scary, they reproduce faster than rabbits or feral cats, and have taken over other reefs in the Atlantic and Caribbean. It won’t be long before we’re totally overrun and the lionfish evolves lungs and starts stalking land-based prey and eats our pets and… okay, I made that last part up.

When the lionfish first appeared in the Keys, local environmental authorities encouraged divers to report sightings and locations. Well, there have been a lot of sightings of these coral reef carpetbaggers. Now, in a change of tactics (and I am not making this up), authorities are encouraging divers to kill any lionfish they see (at least in areas that aren’t no-take zones). You read correctly: Kill the Lionfish.

One benefit is that, again according to our local authorities, lionfish are pretty tasty with a tender white meat not unlike snapper. Many of you are probably thinking, “How can a venomous fish like the lionfish be good to eat?!” As it was explained to me by an actual speaker at an actual recent Marathon Rotary Club meeting, only the fin barbs are venomous – the lionfish flesh is both safe and tasty!

Particular care must be taken when handling and cleaning the lionfish. There are gloves the fisherman and diver can wear that are impervious to the lionfish barbs; there are also HazMat suits for fumble-fingered fish cleaners with the dropsies. Anyway, cut off the fins, peel the fish, and there be beautiful white fillets for the cutting. So I was told.

Our speaker told us that, one day, we all might find ourselves ordering the fresh-caught local lionfish special in our Keys restaurants. Well, consider this: the lionfish is sort of like a more exotic (and non-scavenger) catfish, and people love catfish. Lionfish sounds at least as appetizing as something called “orange roughy.” The Keys could certainly use a special food fish to attract visitors now that grouper season is closed for several months a year. And for the true thrill-seekers, a lionfish-toss competition could become a tradition at our local watering holes (bring your own helmets and gloves and watch for body shots).

And think of the dollars flowing into the Keys as the TDC and OFF join forces on an ad campaign touting the benefits of “Lionfish: The (Other) Other White Meat.”

Screaming headline: Linsday Lohan in Jail! Really, now: who gives a tinker’s dam? And just what is a tinker’s dam? (From the 1877 text Practical Dictionary of Mechanics: “…a wall of dough raised around a place which a plumber desires to flood with a coat of solder. The material can be but once used; being consequently thrown away as worthless.”) Now we know. Perhaps any more news about this spoiled Hollywood drunken druggie who even attorney Robert Shapiro won’t represent should be “consequently thrown away as worthless.”

Speaking of worthless, Mel Gibson is back in the news. When you’re famous, it’s probably not a good idea to be a violent racist anti-Semitic cheating woman-batterer. If he only had alcohol or some substance to blame for the fact that he never could forgive the Jews for killing Jesus… and we all know just how Christ-like Mel Gibson is. Please, someone send him back Down Under, never to be heard from again.

Moving from the pathetically worthless to the incredibly curious: what in the world would possess legendary football coach and commentator Jimmy Johnson to leave the comfort and safety of his Florida Keys home and become a contestant on reality show Survivor in Nicaragua? It’s rumored that Johnson is a big Survivor fan, and that he’s been trying to make the cast for a couple of years. I like The Amazing Race, but it doesn’t mean that I want to rappel down the side of a skyscraper in Singapore and then jet to Beijing just to eat fried scorpions on the street.

Miami Herald columnist Glenn Garvin puts it simply: “I’m betting on Nicaragua.” Garvin continues to offer his insights on the Central American nation from his own personal experience: “I've been writing about Nicaragua for a quarter of a century, and I can tell you it's no country for old men, or young men, or men with all their marbles. It's got wars and volcanoes and hurricanes. It's got vampire bats, for heaven's sake, not to mention loathsome little microorganisms that would make you throw up if I even told you about them, much less if they got into your gastrointestinal tract. When the first Spanish conquistadores arrived 500 years ago, they nervously sent word home that they had discovered the very mouth of Hell.”

It doesn’t really sound like a friendly place… but then Survivor: Paradise Island doesn’t sound too challenging. (“This week, our contestants will try to find reasonably priced tropical drinks on the beach and then battle it out at the blackjack tables for immunity.”) Still, I hope our readers join with me in wishing Jimmy all the best in Nicaragua – good luck, Godspeed, and come home in one piece.

At least in the celebrity world, forgiveness and reconciliation are in the air. Sandra Bullock and Jesse James may again be an item, and Bristol Palin and Levi Johnston are engaged to be married.

If you said, “Who?” about any of these people, you have my envy and respect.

1) Playing music. Yeah, I know, I do this as a job. And I know that it’s not necessarily a Keys thing. But it’s not just a job – playing music is my passion, my life, my raison d'etre. For those who don’t play, I couldn’t even begin to explain what it means to be able to pick up an instrument, sing, and create music out of thin air. Writers with far more talent than I will ever possess have struggled with written descriptions of the essence and importance of music. Here are a few of their thoughts on the subject:

“After silence, that which comes nearest to expressing the inexpressible is music.” – Aldous Huxley

“Without music life would be a mistake.”  – Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche

“Music can change the world because it can change people.” – Bono

“If I were to begin life again, I would devote it to music.  It is the only cheap and unpunished rapture upon earth.” – Sydney Smith

“It is cruel, you know, that music should be so beautiful. It has the beauty of loneliness, of pain: of strength and freedom. The beauty of disappointment and never-satisfied love. The cruel beauty of nature and everlasting beauty of monotony.” – Benjamin Britten

“Music expresses that which cannot be said and on which it is impossible to be silent.” – Victor Hugo

“Writing about music is like dancing about architecture.” – Elvis Costello or Laurie Anderson

2) Playing music here. Yeah, I know – it can be quite a sweaty proposition hauling around all the equipment needed to put on a performance this time of year (and reinforces just how much a musician needs a fan). But there is a real upside. The places I play are some of the coolest (in a hip island sense) joints around. Sparky’s Landing, Cabana Breezes, Dockside, and the Sunset Grille are all awesome waterfront locations where I get to perform music harborside or seaside. The views are incredible, the people great, and each location has a well-stocked bar to help us all avoid the perils of dehydration. Alternatively, the Key Colony Inn offers me an indoor respite from summer’s warmth, plus a chance to play my piano material that I don’t get to play in other places. To be able to make my living performing music in a tropical island setting like this is truly a wonderful thing.

3) Palm trees and shorelines. Ever since I was a kid growing up in Florida, I’ve loved the fact that we lived close enough to the tropics to have palm trees. At latitudes as southern as ours, we are blessed with the more tropical vegetation like coconut palms. Nothing says “tropical” as much as these tall graceful trees. Throw in the full spectrum of additional tropical attractions like orchids and banyan trees, and our islands are resplendent with greenery suitable to an island paradise.

Put those palm trees on a beach, and we’ve exponentially increased our Island Paradise quotient. Waves lapping on shore… sea breezes blowing through the palms… a sunset and a cool tropical beverage… we don’t have to go far to experience these things. We live here (or are plotting how we one day will). Of course, a shoreline means water, and water means things like boating, fishing, diving, snorkeling… you know, ya really do gotta love it!

Petty & Co. deliver timeless, classic album

Remember albums? Those classic discs that contained the newest collections of songs from your favorite artists… you’d grab a bottle of wine and sit for a while to experience the work in its entirety (something that is totally lost on the MP3 generation). Well, Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers have delivered us a real album, classic and timeless, and its name is Mojo.

Mojo kicks off with “Jefferson Jericho Blues,” a rolling jaunt over Highway 61 with the car radio tuned to a blues station out of Chicago. Thomas Jefferson and his mistress Sally are along for the ride. Scott Thurston’s blues harp blends perfectly with Mike Campbell’s and Petty’s guitars; in fact, Thurston’s harp and Campbell’s lead guitar have never sounded better.

Campbell channels some Hendrix (and a touch of Robby Krieger) on “First Flash of Freedom,” a spacey ride through lyrical gems like, “A fistful of glory, a suitcase of sin/The language you dream in when you count to ten/You go to the edge but you always give in….” Punctuated by Benmont Tench’s Hammond B3 work and some tasty harmony guitar solos, “Flash” invites you to just sit back and enjoy the nearly seven-minute trip.

“Running Man’s Bible” is not so much a celebration but rather an acknowledgement of lasting through hard times while still maintaining some sense of self and morality, although survival is the ever-overriding concern. Campbell and Tench shine again.

Seat belts aren’t necessary because time slows way down on “The Trip to Pirate’s Cove.” Imagine being a passenger in a car traveling five miles per hour, even as the world outside goes by at light speed. Such is the feeling one gets from the way the vocal echoes in the music slow down the lyrical imagery of a strange trip where “She was a part of my heart, but now she’s just a line on my face.” This is a classic Tom Petty story song.

“I Should Have Known It” kicks off Mojo’s impressive middle section with a blast of guitars and drums that would have been right at home on Led Zeppelin IV. “Thanks for nothin’/Yeah, thanks a lot/Go ahead, baby/Take all I got,” Petty sneers at the person who done him wrong, resolving, “That’s the last time you’re gonna hurt me.” This is one of my favorites, and it just rocks.

Blues with a decidedly southern touch comes in the form of “U.S. 41,” a song that one can easily imagine being played on the front porch of a tin-roofed shack somewhere in northern Florida. The old-time feel is enhanced by the effect on Tom’s voice that makes him sound as if he’s being played on an old 78 RPM disc on a Gramophone.

Robert Cray-style R&B-influenced blues rock is the style of the message song “High in the Morning,” the lyrical successor to The Last DJ’s “When a Kid Goes Bad.” Mike Campbell’s stinging licks punctuate the point that Petty is driving home.

“Something Good Coming” is another of my favorites on an album of standout songs, a slow-picked guitar number that again features Campbell’s understated yet elegant slide guitar. The song’s message offers up a ray of hope during troubled times, and I know a lot of listeners will relate.

Many reviewers have already made comparisons of “Good Enough” to Abbey Road-era Beatles. It’s a compliment, as this is one of the best songs the Heartbreakers have ever recorded, certain to be a standout in the band’s recorded legacy. The song’s slow blues explodes with some of the best guitar work Mike Campbell has ever committed to tape (well, disc). “Gods bless this land, God bless this whisky/I can’t trust love, it’s far too risky,” is a great line in an album full of the best lyrics that Petty may have ever written.

Recorded live in the band’s rehearsal space, Mojo is perhaps the Heartbreakers’ masterwork as a band. Petty’s singing has never sounded better. After 34 years together for the four original members: Petty, Campbell, Tench, and bassist Ron Blair (plus 20 years for Scott Thurston and 15 for drummer Steve Ferrone), this band is firing on all cylinders and has most certainly found its own mojo. Currently on tour (and hopefully continuing to play as many Mojo songs as possible), Petty and the band continue to create and perform at the top of their game. Let’s hope that the Heartbreakers have a few more albums in them, because it sounds like they’re really just cranking into high gear.

* * * * *

Congratulations are in order to my alma mater, the University of South Carolina. My old school’s baseball team won the College World Series this past week and are the NCAA National Champions. Go Cocks!

Here are the background details of the story that has left me puzzled. Remember back to the waning days of the Bush administration, when the economy faced all-but-certain meltdown? The President and Congress got together and passed a mega-billion-dollar “bailout bill” that used our taxpayer dollars to shore up financial institutions and preserve bonus payments to Wall Street executives. As totally distasteful as it was, we were told that it had to be done to avert global economic collapse.

In the early days of the new Obama administration, the economy – while perhaps not in danger of total disintegration – remained in a very feeble state. To help grow the economy, the President and Congress got together and passed a mega-billion-dollar “stimulus bill” that used our taxpayer dollars to keep automakers out of bankruptcy court and provide funds to shovel-ready infrastructure projects and create jobs. Once again, we were told that it had to be done to keep the recession from worsening.

The main difference between the “bailout bill” and the “stimulus bill” is that the latter actually has provided funds for shovel-ready wastewater and stormwater infrastructure projects in the Florida Keys. The City of Marathon, the Key Largo Sewer District, and the City of Key West all have benefitted directly from the $24.5 million in stimulus funds already dedicated to these projects (technically, there is a $1.5 million portion of these funds unspent that Key West will bill for by July 1). The really good news is that there is another $45 million in leftover stimulus funds that the Keys already qualify for and could be put to use right now this year.

That also means that local residents and businesses will see a reduction in their sewer bills as a direct result of federal funding we all agreed was necessary for these projects.

Well, one of us doesn’t agree any more. Congresswoman Ileana Ros-Lehtinen (R-FL) has decided to not join our U.S. Senators Bill Nelson and George LeMieux in requesting that additional $45 million for the Keys. You read that correctly: our Congresswoman, Ileana Ros-Lehtinen (R-FL), will not support the request for the additional $45 million to be spent in her district on infrastructure projects we most certainly need.

What is she thinking?

In an e-mail to Free Press reporter Robert Silk, Congresswoman Ileana Ros-Lehtinen (R-FL) took credit for securing $35 million in federal funds for Keys wastewater projects. She balked at going after more funds, however, using as an excuse the $1.5 million in “unspent” funds, and urging Keys municipalities to spend it all before requesting more money.

That argument really doesn’t hold water (treated or otherwise). Marathon has already used up all its funding and is still in the middle of its multi-million dollar project. Key Largo billed the Army Corps $2 million more than it received in case other stimulus funding became available. Key West will spend the existing allocation and is currently in the middle of a multi-million dollar stormwater and wastewater upgrade. If it gets to the Keys, thanks to our Senators (and no thanks to Ileana), the additional $45 million will be spent.

Some suggest that partisan politics is behind what Congresswoman Ileana Ros-Lehtinen (R-FL) is thinking. Like all House Republicans, Ileana toed the party line and voted against the stimulus bill (she voted for the bank bailout bill). It’s a shame, however, if Congresswoman Ileana Ros-Lehtinen (R-FL) is abandoning the constituents in her own district just to make a political point. Regardless of the source of those federal funds, people in the Keys need that additional $45 million in stimulus money, at least as much as the banks and insurance companies needed the federal bailout she supported.

Sometimes – hell, all of the time – people need to come before party in this country. Both of our Senators got that one right. As a former elected official, I worked with Ileana on local issues and have always considered her a friend of the Keys. She’s the only member of Congress I have known personally, and I get no pleasure out of writing this column. After all is said and done, it would have been great to have had Congresswoman Ileana Ros-Lehtinen (R-FL) join with our Senators in requesting these funds. In the end, maybe we don’t need her this time. 

No guide like this would be worth the paper it is written upon without mention of the kind of wildlife that truly gets up close and personal with humans. Two species are the common mosquito (Corpuscleus suckupitus) and the no-see-um (Damnitus irritatus). These insects desire what you are not necessarily inclined to share; namely, your blood. But take a moment and look at it from the insect’s perspective. The critters that normally offer their lifeblood to hungry mosquitoes and no-see-ums usually have fur or feathers in the way of their skin – not so easy for a small insect to navigate. But here comes the relatively hairless human to the islands, and bloodsucking insects of the tropics rejoice – to them, we’re nothing more than all-you-can-eat blood buffets. To try and deter these insects from feasting upon us, humans have developed numerous types of repellents. My personal favorite is the coil that is ignited and burns for several seconds before our island humidity renders it useless. When they do work, however, the smell is reminiscent of the aroma of the thatch roof of your tiki hut slowly smoldering prior to total combustion.

Our avian friends certainly deserve mention in our guide. Many visitors notice that our birds are somewhat different than the bluebirds of happiness that inhabit most of the continental United States. First, we have our long-necked shore birds like the heron and the egret. These birds are often seen where the highway is close to water, and as such, egrets and herons are responsible for more traffic accidents that any other bird (“Look Myrtle! An egret is right here on the side of thSCREECHCRASHTINKLE!”)

Pelicans are quite the popular local bird, but they have a downside: they’re shameless beggars. It’s sad to see what once was a proud fishing species being reduced to panhandling for fish scraps at docks. Let’s remember the old saying: Give a bird a fish, you feed him for a day. Teach a bird to fish, and he drinks beer like the rest of us.

Other noteworthy local birds include our ospreys, hawks, and the occasional eagle. These raptors, or birds of prey, are exceptional creatures because they can catch and keep fish without any regard to size, weight, or slot limits. It can be very frustrating for a fisherman to watch an osprey carry off a prize fish. Yelling at the bird won’t help, and you’ll look like a freakin’ idiot.

On Big Pine Key (and a few other “Lower” Keys), the protected Key Deer roam freely. A small sub-species of the common whitetail deer, the Key Deer have taken advantage of their isolation on our islands to evolve slowly into miniature versions of their former selves. This process is illustrated in the Discovery Channel documentary Honey, I Shrunk the Herd. It is illegal to feed the deer, which is why most of our Keys lawbreakers live on Big Pine Key.

Other endangered and protected species that call the Keys home include the Key Largo Wood Rat, the Key Largo Cotton Mouse, and the Lower Keys Marsh Rabbit. What people would consider pests “back home” are protected here in the Keys. Instead of D-Con, we have the DEP.

Unfortunately, the Keys have fallen victim to “invasive” or “exotic” species – creatures that did not originate here but that have found the Keys to be particularly habitable. Notable offenders include the green iguana, the Burmese python, the Gambian pouch rat, and the extra-large Canadian Speedo-wearing beach creature. Each of these species are threatening local wildlife, or perhaps just the view.

Finally, let’s devote a few words to our friendly neighborhood scorpions. Normally, one would think that scorpions only inhabit desert-like climates. Not so! It seems that damp, humid, moldy piles of debris make the perfect scorpion hangout. Unlike the sand-colored scorpions of the desert, our scorpions are long and black. Many Keys residents say you haven’t lived until you’ve stepped on a scorpion in your bare feet, or had one pop you in the hand when you’re cleaning up that pile of garbage in the backyard.

Well, here we are at the end of the Guide, and no mention of land crabs or eastern diamondback rattlesnakes! Another time, perhaps. Sleep well…

Well, I’d like to report that. The real news is that the “cap” they put on the sawed-off pipe is capturing a “significant” amount of the leaking crude. A look at the live video feed shows “significant” amounts of crude still being released into the Gulf while people from Louisiana to the Florida Panhandle are watching their summer season, their fisheries, and their entire way of life ruined. Throughout the crisis, BP CEO Tony Hayward’s calm and reassuring words have been inspirational to the people whose lives have been devastated and destroyed.

Well, I’d like to report that. Unfortunately, Mr. Hayward’s words and deeds may go down in history as one of the biggest corporate FUBARs ever. Right after the spill, Hayward asked his fellow BP executives, “What the hell did we do to deserve this?” I’m sure the families of the 11 dead rig workers and the people of the Gulf Coast might be in a better position to ask that question than a CEO who earned more than $6 million in salary and bonuses last year. At least that was the only wrong thing he said.

Well, I’d like to report that. Mr. Hayward continued to issue forth amazing proclamations likely designed to minimize the perception of how bad things really were. On May 14, Hayward told a British newspaper, “The Gulf of Mexico is a very big ocean. The amount of volume of oil and dispersant we are putting into it is tiny in relation to the total water volume.” That was before no end was in sight to this gusher that continues to pour crude into the Gulf, over 36 million gallons by a conservative estimate as of this past Thursday. Just four days later, as oil continued to bleed into the Gulf from the failed blowout preventer, Hayward reassured us as he said, “I think the environmental impact of this disaster is likely to be very, very modest.” That same day, when asked by reporters if he could sleep at night knowing what was happening, Mr. Hayward replied, “Of course I can.” After these gaffes, after getting quite used to the taste of his own foot, Tony Hayward finally grasped the severity of the situation and the ramifications of its long-term consequences.

Well, I’d like to report that. On May 31, as he attempted to issue an apology for BP’s role in the disaster, Mr. Hayward uttered the now infamous quote he’ll be remembered for long after the flow of oil is finally stopped: “I would like my life back.” Well, Tony, guess what? So would the 11 deceased oil rig workers. So would the myriad birds and sea creatures that have perished as a result of oil contamination. The people in Louisiana, Alabama, Mississippi, and Florida would like their summer season back. Gulf Coast fishermen would like their fisheries and their livelihoods back. Speaking on behalf of the millions of us who are affected in one way or another, I WOULD LIKE MY GULF BACK!

The latest news is that BP still plans to pay out dividends to its shareholders, the company suggesting that it can handle all the costs of cleanup and claims and still afford the dividend payments. Keep in mind that American corporations and British corporations differ on their dividend philosophy. According to UK’s Guardian, “British investors view dividends less as a one-off reward than as the price of maintaining access to the capital markets.” Still, the payment of $10 billion in dividends sends the wrong signal to all those here awaiting cleanup and claims payments. Given its track record, however, BP doing the right thing seems as likely as Elton John playing at Rush Limbaugh’s wedding… oh. He did?!? Wow.

At least regional fishing magazines aren’t doing stupid economy-killing stuff like publishing altered oil-ruined shore photos with Photoshopped grossly enlarged dead beached sail catfish on their covers… oh. It must be another graduate of the Tony Hayward Business School.

Then came Twitter. One can post anything he or she wants to, so long as the message, or “tweet” in Twitterese, doesn’t exceed 140 characters. Of course, tweets can only be read by “followers” of the tweet poster, so the idea is to establish a Twitter account, and then solicit as many followers as possible. Politicians love Twitter. In fact, it’s a great way to tell if your Representative or Senator is actually casting votes on bills, or simply tweeting about what’s wrong in Washington.

The most popular of all the social networking sites is Facebook. For those three of you out there unfamiliar with Facebook, it’s like Twitter with pictures. And very stupid time-wasting games. Unlike any other networking site, however, Facebook allows its users to poke and be poked. If you’ve never poked someone online, well…

After you establish your Facebook account, you can publish as much or as little information about yourself as you wish. It seems that most people today, in these times of identity theft and online privacy concerns, publish just about everything about themselves with the possible exception of their Social Security number! Date of birth… hometown… current city… education and job experience… interests… and whether you’re “in a relationship,” “single,” “married,” or “it’s complicated” are all pieces of information you can choose to share with your Facebook “friends,” or anyone else who searches you out. In fact, Facebook is the number one method for all those people you went to high school with and never wanted to hear from again to find you and “friend” you. The good news is that you can “unfriend” someone on Facebook as well.

Photos are a key component of Facebook. There seems to be no limit on how many photos, organized into “albums,” you can post for friends to see. Post photos of yourself, your weekend, your getaway, your car, your trip to Wal-Mart, your boring job, your new chair – heck, you can even post a photo of your Social Security card! Facebook photos are the number one way we know we wouldn’t recognize most people we went to high school with if we saw them on the street. (That’s what he looks like now?!? Wow…)

For those people with too much spare time (and they seem to number in the millions), there are games like Bejeweled Blitz, Mafia Wars, and my favorite, FarmVille. The object of FarmVille, near as I can tell because I’ve never played the game, is to “work” on your virtual farm by planting virtual plants and caring for virtual animals. Until you learn the secret of turning off game updates in your “News Feed,” every one of your friends who plays FarmVille will generate updates of lost farm animals who are sad and need a new home and won’t you adopt them? There are lost brown cows, lost black cows, lost ugly ducklings, lost black sheep, and more, all looking to find a new home. (I wonder if there’s a FarmVille farm that will turn the lost cows into virtual hamburgers.)

You can ask your FarmVille friends for help, “sell” them your crops, even (I believe) ask for virtual fertilizer (now there’s a concept!). You can even post “photos” of your farm into your very own FarmVille photo album. And we wonder why our modern society is less productive. Microsoft’s “Solitaire” finally has real competition in the Workplace Wasting of Time department.

I can only imagine what might happen if all the “work” being done in virtual FarmVille farms were actually being performed on real farms. We would likely solve the world’s hunger problems with all the crops being grown… at the expense of having sad lonely lost brown cows roaming our neighborhoods looking for adoptive homes.