I don’t know if I could pull off a story thismorning, what with Wikipedia going dark, and the ominous black mask over theGoogle logo on the mighty search engine.

Check it out:

(Masked Google Logo echoes corporate protest to corporate aggression. Photo belongs to them, please don’t hurt me.)

This is what greets the world this morning when youtry a search for anything. I assume the black mask is to remind us of what thepowerful interests are trying to do to us in Congress.

It would be sort of neat if we could try arepresentative government in America, one that is not beholden to the deeppocket crowd. The matter at hand is the anti-piracy legislation pending in theHouse and Senate. Wikipedia, Moveon.org, user-submitted news site Reddit, blogBoing Boing and the Cheezburger network of comedy are participating in a blackoutto protest the Stop Online Piracy Act (SOPA) and Protect IP Act (PIPA) billsthat will effectively censor the web for the first time.

I understand all the commotion about criminalactivities by shadowy and criminal offshore interests that steal, copy anddisseminate other people’s intellectual property. But the practical effect isto hand the bureaucrats the power to shut down any site (including mine) ifsomeone alleges that a picture (or perhaps a thought?) belongs to someone else.

Sorry, it is an outrage. This has got to bestopped, and I hope you will drop a line to your elected representatives, ifyou know who they are. Hang on. I am going to do that now. (tap, tap).

Ah, much better, and it only took a minute once Ifound out who is masquerading as our elected representatives.  You can Google it, if you need to. Here iswhat I wrote, and if you are feeling feisty this morning, you can borrow thesewords to send to your own alleged representatives:

Senator/Representative XXXX,   I didn’t know if I could pulloff a decent letter to you this morning, Sir, what with Wikipedia going dark,and the ominous black mask over the Google logo atop the mighty search engine.     That is what greets the worldthis morning when you try a search for anything. I assume the black mask is toremind us of what the powerful interests are trying to do to us in Congress-both in the Senate and the House.

It would be sort of neat ifwe could try a representative government in America, one that is not beholdento the deep pocket crowd. The matter at hand is the anti-piracy legislationpending in the House and Senate. The Stop Online Piracy Act (SOPA) and ProtectIP Act (PIPA) bills will effectively censor the web for the first time.   I understand all thecommotion about criminal activities by offshore interests that steal, copy anddisseminate other people’s intellectual property. But the practical effect isto hand the bureaucrats the power to shut down any site (including mine) ifsomeone alleges that a picture (or perhaps a thought?) belongs to someone else.

Sorry, it is an outrage. Thislegislation has got to be stopped, and I hope you will do what you can toprotect our basic net freedoms. Law always lags technology- but PIPA and SOPAare not the way to go.

I hope you will oppose this latest lunacy.

My thanks for your attentionin this vital matter of freedom.   CAPT Victor Socotra, USN-Ret. Arlington

(Mr. Bowling Don Carter in his salad days. Photobelongs to someone else, please don’t take down my site.)

Now, where was I? Oh, yeah, the greatest bowler onGuam. As you probably know, Don Carter, the master bowler of the 1950s and 60s,left us this week, just a few years younger than my Dad when he passed. He did his star turns on black-and-white television in myyouth. Trim in a natty bowling shirt, he appeared each week on “Make thatSpare,” a vehicle that hyped the Professional Bowling Association, or PBA,which is easy to confuse with other real sports.

Don was the first professional bowler to reach asix-figure annual income, the first to run six strikes on the jackpottelevision show, and the very first to convert the cash sweepstakes shot on TV.He was awesome.

The whole notion of bowling has moved from commonactivity to sociological metaphor. When we were kids, Dad would take us up toThunderbird Lanes on the weekends for a treat. I don’t know where he bowledduring the week- he of course was a member of a league at American Motors. Wetook a lot of joy in occasionally knocking down a pin or two.

I would tell you more about Don Carter’s amazingcareer stats, but of course Wikipedia is blocked today and I can’t. The pointis that we all used to bowl, and we all used to be in leagues, a gregariousactivity that has slowly disappeared. That is the metaphor part: sociologistRobert D. Putnam wrote a fascinating book published at the change of themillennium called “Bowling Alone,” which claimed that even though more peopleare bowling these days, we are not bowling in leagues. Putnam alleges thatchanges in work, family structure, age, suburban life, television, computers,women’s roles and other factors have contributed to a dramatic decline in groupsocial activities.

(Cover of Bowling Alone. I am using this under fair-use, and I could prove it in court, even if you take down my site.)

He further extrapolates the phenomenon of the bowlingalley to show that we sign fewer petitions, belong to fewer organizations thatmeet, know our neighbors less, meet with friends less frequently, and evensocialize with our families less often.   I don’t bowl, and I could not tell you the lasttime I slipped on a pair of those crazy parti-colored rental shoes to hoist aborrowed ball and sling it down the gleaming hardwood toward the adamant white-and-red-stripedpins.

We were talking about Don Carter and bowling ingeneral with Mac and Jasper at Willow last night.  The whole matter came up as Jasper askedLiz-with-an-S if she minded if he stowed his bowling bag in the cooler behindthe bar at the Amen Corner.  Jasper wason the civilian side of the bar, just hanging out with the regulars. The LovelyBea was there, and Jamie and Short Hair Mike, and John-with an-H and Jonwithout.

(The Amen Corner boys and girls. Photo Socotra, no fair-use required.)

Liz-S is The Man behind the bar these days,assisted ably by Tinkerbelle and Jasper, when he gets the hours, and she saidshe did not mind in the slightest. Old Jim asked to see his ball. Jasperobliged, and displayed with pride a custom sixteen-pound beauty, the heaviestallowed in regulation play.

“Only two sports you can hustle,” he said with asmile. “Pool and bowling. My Dad taught me that on the island. He wanted me tobe the best bowler on Guam.”

(Willow’s two Guamanians: Jasper (left) and Mac(right).  All rights reserved and if yousteal it I will have the government shut down your website. Sorry, justkidding. Not.)

I think I mentioned that Jasper is from the islandwhere America’s Day Begins, and has forged a bond with Mac, who spent eightmonths on Nimitz Hill on the island. They are the only two Guamanians of myacquaintance, albeit Mac was only a temporary resident.

That is where things got a little complicated. Iwas interested in continuing the story of The Luckiest Man in China, WendyFurnas, and the details of his repatriation from the brutal hands of theJapanese Kempeitei at Bridge House Prison in Shanghai. We got as far as thefact that the MV Gripsholm was on her first Red Crosscruise to bring him back (along with US Ambassador to Japan Joseph Grew, but Ican’t find more about that since Wikipedia is down), and whether Wendy hadapproached the Navy, or vice versa, when he got on American soil again.

“Why didn’t he join the Army?” I asked. Macshrugged. He was looking good this evening, nice suit, soft collared shirt anda dazzling patterned tie. He is a regular Babe magnet when he wants to be.

(The Lovely Bea with Babe Magnet Mac. Life is good when you own the rights to pictures like this. )

“I don’t know. Maybe he didn’t want to spend therest of the war in the jungle. Wendy was in JICPOA on O’ahu through the rest ofthe war,” said Mac. “When we got back from Guam on the flight throughKwajalein, I went over to the JIC and Wendy was the last one there. Hisinstructions were to get rid of everything, even if he had to throw it all inthe dumpster. He had a room full of guns, swords and binoculars. All of itgreat war trophies. Then he was supposed to lock up and report to CINCPACFLTwhere I was.”

“That is amazing,” I said.

“What, the sixteen pound ball?” asked Old Jim. Hehad been talking to Short Hair Mike about how to separate pigeons from theircash. “It seems a little heavy for Jasper, but he is a wiry guy.”

Jasper flexed for us. He is working on full sleevetattoos on both arms, not colored in yet, but clear in blue outlines againsthis warm brown skin.

“Do you bowl here?” I asked. “And where?”

“There are Bowl America lanes in Falls Church,Fairfax and Chantilly,” he said. “I belong to a couple leagues. I got to keepmy skills up.”

“Do you still hustle?” I asked. “And doesn’t thatmean that we are still bowling in leagues?”

“Sure,” he said. “I don’t know what that guy Putnamwas talking about. It is more fun when you compete with a bunch of otherpeople.”

“Well, I guess the country isn’t falling apartafter all,” I said.

Old Jim growled. “You would be wrong, Vic. It isgoing to hell in a hand-basket.”

“Or a bowling bag,” said Mac, polishing off a glassof red. “That is my limit for tonight.” I looked at the dregs of Happy HourWhite in my glass and waved at Tinkerbelle for the check. “This one is on me,”I said grandly as she handed me the black leatherette folder.

(Tinkerbelle with the check. It is my damn picture. Back off.)

Liz-S said proudly: “You know the Admiral drinksfor free here,” and I nodded.   “That makes it a lot easier to be generous.”

I was going to tell you about some other stuff, butthat can wait until tomorrow. In the meantime, didn’t you have to drop a noteto your bonehead Congressperson? SOPA and PIPA are wrong.

Copyright 2012 Vic Socotra
www.vicsocotra.com