This bulletin board, hosted by the CDSOA, Inc., is the on-line meeting place for all Cape Dory owners and groups. We welcome everyone's questions, answers and comments about Cape Dory sailboat
Yes, William F. Buckley was something else, wasn't he? I used to get nosebleeds just listening to him. He claimed that he spoke English (Amer.), but I'll be dipped if I could understand what he was saying. Maybe that's the quality needed to be a great politician.
OJ, you speak of the venerable Mr. Buckley in the past tense. Has he died or have you just stopped listening to him? I know he is advanced in age, but I thought he still wrote an occasional column. I don't agree with his political views but he is one guy I would avoid debating at all costs, especially in public! By the way, to my mind, venerable fits nicely in front of your name equally as well.
To answer your questions, I think that varnish and a tiller are unquestionably, absolutely, and unequivocally the best way to go. And that is all quite obvious to me.
I too used to marvel at Buckley's use of the English language. His lexicon was vast indeed. Yet with all that he was a lousy communicator to most of his audiences.
The purpose of language is communication. Plain and simple....communication. No matter how you dress it up,or, for that matter, dress it down, if your "audience" cannot understand you, you have failed miserably.
Adlai Stevenson ran for President against Eisenhower twice. Gawd help me this old man remembers those elections. He lost for many reasons but one of the reasons given was that his language was so sophisticated that he talked over the heads of 99% of the electorate.
Bill Buckley suffered from the same affliction. I love the English language and I do fairly well with it but often I had trouble following what Buckley was saying.
Hmmm....all this posted on a board devoted to Cape Dory sailboats!
I'll retire to Bedlam!!
"I desire no more delight, than to be under sail and gone tonight."
(W. Shakespeare, Merchant of Venice)
I polished away at the pores late into the night,
With extensions cords strewn from the left and to the right.
It began with heavy compound and was pored on with much care,
Mosquito’s and sand flies were buzzing through the air.
I smacked and screamed and hollered at those voracious little bugs,
Until my pain was eased (not by the bottle, but by the Jugs).
With my Flor De Cana rum sitting welcome by my side,
I turned the waxmaster on and took it for a ride.
It spittered and it splattered, it shot me in the eye,
My depth perception withered, but I continued on to try.
To see that gel coat shine from a dull and chalky sight,
Is a difficult thing to do when the day’s become the night.
After removing the heavy compound I poured on some Finesse-It,
Then used the Terry Bonnet to gently caress-it.
The reflections become more crisp with every single stroke,
Not too bad a job I say, for an ordinary bloke.
My stomachs now a-growling, I ran out to the car,
To coax myself into eating another damn granola bar.
I continued with my conquest in the hole upon the water,
While negotiating the orbital, and eyeing my landlord’s daughter.
What’s come floating by me slowly, bloated my the sun,
But an upside down Iguana, in the current and on the run.
With the final step I apply the wax to the applicator bonnet,
I’ll be damned if the entire boat doesn’t have 3 layers of wax on it.
I packed my supplies back into my little pickup truck,
I’ll make it back to Miami with a little coffee and lots of luck.
The road goes ever on and on,
And I must follow it if I can,
Pursuing it with eager feet,
Until it meets some place
Where many paths and errands meet,
And whither then I cannot say.
