If you’re not familiar with the Darwin Awards, you should take the time to look at the website https://darwinawards.com/, which gives you details about incredibly dumb things people have done that ultimately result in their elimination from the gene pool. The theory, like Darwin’s Theory of Evolution, is that the really bad genes of any species get eliminated over time for lack of adaptability or, in humanity’s case, for just plain being dumb.

The Darwin Awards always end with someone’s death after doing something stupid. But I contend there is a second tier of awards that should be given to individuals who do not die, but still do something that destroys notion that we are all born with common sense. The incidents often start with some comment like: “Hey guys, hold my beer and watch this…”

But it doesn’t even have to involve serious injury. Take, for example, a story that a friend told me about a bank transaction in Las Cruces that left everyone scratching their head.

A young man, intent on conducting a safe-distancing bank robbery, rolled up to a drive-up window and inserted a note in the canister demanding all the cash in a teller’s drawer. The plucky teller, acting in a professional manner, responded to the man’s demand note by saying he would have to show some form of ID to complete the “transaction.” He complied by submitting his driver’s license.

Apparently after waiting patiently for too long, he finally became agitated when he got neither the cash, nor his driver’s license back. But he didn’t get far before police swooped in to arrest him. His net take was a pair of handcuffs and a ride in a police car to jail.

In my mind, this type of behavior needs to be recorded and reported as “Darwin Lite” incidents, and it is my intent to share these periodically in this blog. Not surprisingly, there are lots and lots of examples from which to choose. If you have any that you know about, please share them with me and I will embellish them as necessary “:^) to make certain they are award worthy. You’ll be given full credit and know that you have contributed something truly worthy to the edification and entertainment of followers.

Several years ago, before there was an explosion of social media in which people began posting really incriminating things on their Facebook page, a police officer somewhere in northern New Mexico accidentally captured a truly memorable moment on video.

It seems the officer, hopefully just off duty but still dressed in full official police uniform and necessary accouterments, met up with a girlfriend for an outdoor tryst somewhere where he thought they wouldn’t be spotted. He apparently forgot to turn off the dash cam in the police unit in his rush to satiate his lust. So the camera rolled on.

Not wanting to risk a tangle with an adjacent tumbleweed or unexpected stings resulting from being too close to a nearby ant hill, the officer and his companion decided to have their encounter on the hood of the police cruiser. And the camera rolled on while the swirling actions produced an exceptional polish on the hood.

What was most interesting about the video (I can’t recall how it was eventually revealed to the public) was that during the entire incident, a Chihuahua wandered around in the background, stopping occasionally to observe the activity on the car hood, apparently indifferent to the gyrations and moans nearby. And the camera rolled on.

As you might suspect, the officer lost his job when the video was discovered, but any corroborating evidence that the Chihuahua might have offered was never revealed. It’s why your dog is always your best friend.

Right on cue with St. Swithin’s Day (see previous blog), we got a nice thundershower yesterday afternoon that dropped almost one-third of an inch of rain on us. Hopefully, it’s the beginning of our monsoon season in New Mexico. It was an especially typical rainstorm for New Mexico, with full sunshine streaming down along with the rain.

Out our front window, during the storm, I could see a gaggle of kids and one adult (and just one umbrella) splashing around in puddles in the street that the rain had left. When we get only an average of seven and one-half inches of rain a year, every drop is precious and appreciated. Let’s hope St. Swithin’s forecasting legend is accurate.

Hooray, hooray, it’s St. Swithin’s Day!!!

It falls on the calendar every July 15 and helps you predict the weather.

So here’s the story on St. Swithin, who you probably never heard about unless you are from England (or had a mother born in England, like me).

Swithin was an Anglo-Saxon bishop of Winchester and subsequently patron saint of Winchester Cathedral. He was born sometime in the year 800 and died on July 2, 862. His historical importance as bishop is overshadowed by his reputation for posthumous miracles involving influencing the weather. According to tradition, if it rains on Saint Swithin’s bridge on his July 15 feast day, it will continue to rain for another 40 days, but if the weather is fair, there will not be any rain during that same period of time. His name was originally spelled Swithhun and he also is often referred to as the patron saint of weather.

Many churches in the south of England, particularly in the Hampshire region, are dedicated to him. He was said to have performed only one actual miracle in his life, not involving the weather, but chicken eggs. The story goes that workers constructing a church accidentally smashed a basket of eggs from a nearby hen house that was owned by an elderly lady. When Swithin discovered the tragedy, he supposedly performed a miracle by making the eggs whole again.

So why the legend about weather? On his deathbed, Swithin asked that he be buried in a cemetery outside Winchester Cathedral. But after his death, leaders felt he deserved a more fitting memorial that would involve moving his body inside the massive church and placing it in an ornate shrine. On July 15, 971, more than 100 years after his death, monks disinterred his body from the graveyard and began moving it into the cathedral. Immediately outside the church, a violent storm erupted which began an onslaught of heavy rain that continued for — you guessed it — 40 days. (Nothing remains of St Swithin’s shrine, which was destroyed during King Henry VIII’s Reformation, but there is still a memorial to him in Winchester Cathedral).  https://www.winchester-cathedral.org.uk/

Given the continuing hit and miss predictions by weather experts armed with mind-numbing computer models, satellites and weather data stations dotting the globe, St. Swithin’s forecasting model may be as good as any. With the current blast of heat in New Mexico, let’s all pray for some great thunderstorms tomorrow.

In September of 2015, an Albuquerque bus driver rear-ended three cars while carrying passengers along a busy street. Talking while texting? Well, no, he was simply looking for the breakfast burrito that he had dropped while munching away at the wheel. Apparently his frantic search for the wayward burrito forced him to scour the crevices between the bus seat and the floorboard while distracting him from his primary mission — driving the damn bus. And to add insult to injury, it was all captured on a dash cam for all the world (or at least his supervisors) to see.

While the three cars he struck were mashed and mangled, the burrito, it seems, was retrieved unscathed after the incident. But possibly, there was a little dash of crow added in that made it spicier.

Because of a glitch involving e-mail settings, the aero-cordero.com website was out of commission for three or four days. The problem has been corrected and everything seems to be working okay now. The only blog I wrote during that time was posted yesterday and you should be able to see it immediately below this message. As much as I wish to blame this hiccup on technology or some computer nerd in the backroom of my website host, it’s just the result of what I fear is my progressive brain rot. “:^)

Yes, that’s a real word. I found it on a “Word-A-Day” calendar many years ago and immediately stored it in my twisted memory. It’s something that applies to J.Lo’s famous posterior.

What brings up the subject is a sign that I spotted many years ago in front of a home on far North Fourth Street in Albuquerque.

It seems that the owner of the home had established a taxidermy business in a building or garage tucked discreetly in the back of his neatly kept property. The sign, which the owner apparently didn’t fully vet in his rush to announce his business, simply said:

“Taxidermy in Rear”

As one who has suffered the indignity of not having much of a butt over the years, I might have briefly considered visiting the business for some artificial and permanent “enhancement.” But I’m also sure that I would have quickly concluded that such a procedure would have rendered me being even more of a pain in my own butt than I already am.

In December of 2016, a young woman delivering a pizza to a Las Cruces home was unpleasantly surprised when a man inside opened the door completely nude. He explained to the mortified young woman that he had just stepped out of the shower and didn’t want to miss getting delivery of his snack. The young woman, however, observed that neither the man’s hair nor rest of his body was wet and he did not have a towel that might have easily been grabbed on his rush to the door.

Unfazed, and apparently hoping for additional “garnishment,” the naked man asked the woman to wait for him in the doorway while he looked for some change to tip her. Thankfully, the young woman was able to quickly flee and did not provide any unsavory details about how he might have rooted around for change on his naked body. Since he had apparently paid in advance for the pizza by credit card, Police were easily able to identify and arrest him and the young woman was spared the indignity of having to describe any physical features of the perpetrator.

In the 1970s, when I was Santa Fe bureau chief and state political editor for United Press International, I was fortunate to have been invited to see and write about Philmont Scout Ranch in northeastern New Mexico. One of New Mexico’s many jewels, the scout ranch was established in 1938 as a 140,000+ acre rugged mountain wilderness for the Boy Scouts of America to use in building young men and women’s character and providing a spectacular outdoor adventure venue for scouts around the world. (Read more about it at https://www.philmontscoutranch.org/). Sadly, because of the state of New Mexico’s restrictions imposed surrounding the Covid-19 pandemic, the facility is closed this summer for what I believe is the first time since its establishment.

Anyway, when I was there and discovering many topics to write about, I stumbled upon the “dead letter” bulletin board outside the administration building. On it were posted letters returned because young men had used the wrong address on their letters and post cards. It was hoped the scouts would pick them up before they returned home.

One memorable postcard, with its full message displayed for every passer by to chuckle at, caught my eye and I wrote a story about it. The story was circulated worldwide on the UPI news network.

Although I can’t remember the exact wording on the postcard, I do remember the essence, which went, I recall, something like this:

“Mom,

I’m having a great time at Philmont, but I miss you.

We had our first overnight camping trip yesterday, and it was great. I was sleeping pretty well last night, until I woke up when a bear poked its nose into my tent and started licking my head. It kind of scared me, but he ran away and I’m okay.

See you soon.

Your son,

XXXXX”

As someone who appreciates clever wording, I wish I could claim credit for this, but the Albuquerque Journal published my story about the dead letter post card and wrote what I think was the best headline I’ve ever had to introduce one of my stories. It said, simply:

“Better Dead than Read”

As a hot air balloon pilot for more than 38 years, it’s probably appropriate that I comment on yesterday’s announcement that the Albuquerque International Balloon Fiesta is being cancelled this year because of concerns surrounding the Covid-19 epidemic.

I have flown at Fiesta for about 35 years (can’t really remember the exact number), but had chosen not to fly in this year’s event for various reasons. I was scheduled to participate in it last year, but my heart surgery in August put a stop to that.

The decision to cancel the event, in my opinion, is completely understandable, for many reasons. We still don’t know enough about the disease to be sure how to accurately predict what it will be doing three months from now. Planning such a major event without having a pretty clear picture of what that time frame might look like is a daunting task. I feel sorry for the vendors, the city of Albuquerque, the hotels, restaurants, the Fiesta staff, the pilots, the crews and especially the spectators who have made the event so meaningful to us all.

There was talk about having a “Fiesta Light” even where the pilots would fly without spectators being on the field, and even a “Cyber Fiesta” somehow manipulated through the wizardry of computers to look like the real thing. (My wife and I watched a Nebraska football cyber spring game in May– it just wasn’t right.)

But what makes Fiesta truly unique among spectator events is that people can get right on the field, touch the balloons, talk to pilots and crews and be surrounded by and totally immersed in one of the most spectacular demonstrations of light and physics on the planet. You can’t go to an NFL game and mingle with Tom Brady or the other players on the sidelines. You can’t sit on the bench and chat up LeBron James in an NBA game. You can’t be in the pits hoping that one of the Busch boys will let you look inside his car and then maybe, just maybe, invite you to join him in his ride for a hot lap around the track at the Daytona 500.

But at Fiesta, you might just work you way into a free balloon ride. I’ve been able to offer that opportunity more than once to a thrilled and unsuspecting onlooker. It was memorable for both of us.

And as a pilot, there’s nothing more thrilling to see a sea of people cheering you as you lift off into a sky filled with hundreds of other balloons. That’s especially true if, as I have been honored to do on many occasions, fly the American flag off the field. With Old Glory dangling below my basket, the Star Spangled Banner is being sung by some high school choir protege whose voice is so strong and clear that you can still hear her singing 500 feet in the air. What a thrill.

So let’s all take a deep breath and have faith that things will return to normal by the fall of 2021 and Fiesta will happen again when the skies over Albuquerque are filled with balloons. I might be convinced to fly there one more time.