Good morning and greetings, I can’t believe it’s not butterfly fans. Well, we had our three days of summer this week, as a glowing yellow object appeared in the morning skies, accompanied by a backdrop of a large blue canvas. The temperature in Santa Cruz hit a record 101 degrees on Tuesday, as locals rejoiced and salsa danced in the street at this belated turn of events. But then on Wednesday, the fog blew back in, bringing with it that lovely gray curtain that has blanketed our cold water paradise all summer.

This is not to complain, as I prefer this cool, dreary gloom to the sweltering heat that President Obama is feeling in the White House. Even Michelle going sleeveless is not helping on the domestic front. On Thursday morning, Jason asked me, “Dad, why is it so cold?” I replied, “I don’t know son, maybe because a quarter of the country is hungry, another quarter is jobless, another quarter is being foreclosed on and the rest are watching the stock market tank. Well, either that, or it’s just a low pressure system that’s dropping over central coast.”

You may be wondering, what brought on our 72 hours of summer last week? The mini-heat wave was stoked by a high pressure system that was double parked in the white zone over Northern California. This pressure system, which is the same one Jason experienced last Tuesday afternoon when he went for his driver’s test, surpressed the army, navy and marine layer that usually keeps coastal temperatures Kool and the Gang. Thus came the sizzling triple digit heat, and I’m not talking Dwyane Wade, LeBron James and Chris Bosh. And yes, Jason now has a license to drive but has vowed to work his midrange game.

So, with summer still on the calender, I thought I would chase the bright elusive butterfly of love. For today’s photo ensemble, we are checking in on the fluttering world of butterflies. Five of the images were taken less than a mile from my compound here on the highly desirable upper westside, and if you really want to get upclose and personal, shots one, two and three, which were easy as A,B,C, were taken in my front yard. The butterfly relaxing in the sand was shot at up the coast at Ano Nuevo at my annual Navy Seals reunion.

There is so much to know about these little creatures, so thanks to our friends at www.thebutterflysite.com, here are some fun facts about the world of entomology. Remember, here at Sunrise Santa Cruz, if we don’t have the answer, we’ll make it up. And if you have to wonder if it’s true, well, it’s probably not.

There are about 24,000 species of butterflies in the free world and Canada. Butterflies range in size from a tiny 1/8 inch to an almost huge 12 inches. And in a survey of 1,000 females butterflies, 90% said that size does matter.

Most butterflies live 20 to 40 days, which does not encourage investing in time shares or setting long-term goals. The longest lifetime of an adult butterfly is 9-10 months, in which time they marry, raise children, send them off to college, divorce and then split the proceeds from the sale of their cocoon.

Butterflies can see the colors red, green, and yellow, yet seem confused when they approach a traffic light. Butterflies can see ultraviolet light (light invisible to the human eye) which makes the markings on flowers and vegan restaurants very vivid to them and guides them to the nectar tubes and tofu salads. Some butterflies have ultraviolet reflectants or markings on their own wings which are visible only to other butterflies or really wealthy moths.

The top butterfly flight speed is 12 miles per hour, with a maximum of 10 miles per hour when flying in a school zone. Butterflies cannot fly if their body temperature is less than 86 degrees, unlike myself, who will not fly unless I’m packing enough Sun Chips and tri tip sandwiches to keep me munching from takeoff to landing.

Butterflies taste sensors are found in their feet, so they taste with their feet to find out whether the leaf they sit on is good to lay eggs on for their caterpillars’ food. That’s why many people won’t risk embarrasment of taking a butterfly to a party, because you never know when its going to put its foot in it’s mouth.

Butterflies have their skeletons on the outside of their bodies, called the exoskeleton. This protects them, keeps water inside their bodies so they don’t dry out and saves a hell of a lot of money on Halloween costumes.

The wings of butterflies are actually transparent. The vivid colors are due to overlapping bright scales, which they also use to weigh themselves. Their wings have 125,000 scales per square inch. Compare that to a human head, which has only about 100 hairs per square inch or Bruce Willis, who has none.

Many butterflies have intricate patterns on their wings which are intended for camouflage and showing off to relatives at family gatherings. The patterns are also useful in courtship rituals and knitting and crocheting. Butterflies fly in circles around one another to find a mate, which is very similar to the way I first approached Kim Guarnaccia at my first school dance.

Much like the thighs I use to make chicken parmesan, caterpillars are boneless, but have over 1000 muscles. Butterflies can’t hear, but they can feel vibration which works best when hiding from predators and bill collectors. And after bees and professional athletes, butterflies are the second largest group of pollinators in the world.

And finally,you’re probably wondering, what’s the difference between a moth and a butterfly? Well, moths twitter and fly at night and rest with their wings open. Butterflies facebook during the day and rest at night with their wings closed. And before a big game, one might experience butterflies, not moths. Personally, I had ice water in my veins so the subject and predicate never came up.

Not much this week on the late night front, but here’s one for Sasha and Malia.
“President Obama could not wait to get on vacation. As soon as the plane landed, he grabbed a couple beers and slid down the emergency slide.” –David Letterman

So that’s our last blast for August 2010. We had a beautiful sunrise on Saturday morning, which of course came on the only day this summer I slept past 6 am. I woke up to see clouds in the sky that were just minutes earlier full of color and immediately ran to my computer and googled the word “karma.”

For the sake of love, peace and my personal happiness, I’m not going to mention the situation in Afghanistan, Iraq or the Yankee’s starting rotation. But God bless our troops and the military families. They know what sacrifice is all about, and I’m not talking about a bunt to move the runner into scoring position. So enjoy the late summer action and we’ll catch you on the disabled list. Aloha, mahalo and later, Steven Strasburg fans.

Good morning and greetings, back to school fans. That’s right, the new school year begins for us today and I haven’t seen my teenage toddlers this excited since “The Office” went into syndication. For us graduated students, this means that Indian Summer must be on the way, because we’ve had enough of this Indian Winter. But through the clouds and fog and the non-stop chatter from LeBron James, the birds are still singing and the flowers are blooming. And that’s where our magical mystery tour takes us today.

Welcome to Sunrise Santa Cruz’s wonderful world of color. As I cruise the westside along Delaware Avenue listening to the Doobie Brothers on NPR while thinking of ways to make this world a bitter, er better place, I often pass a front yard that explodes with pinks, purples, oranges, yellows, reds, downers and seconals. It is truly dahlia central, or for you Clint Eastwood fans, “A Fistfull of Dahlias.”

Well, hello dahlias. These tuberous perennials are spectacular summer and autumn flowering plants who are native to the mountains of Mexico, Central America and ridge in northern New Jersey. They are also, along with the lovely Selma Hayek, the national flower of Mexico and a particular favorite of the Gulf Cartel, who are big on sending flowers along with a message to that special someone. And for you City by the Bay fans, the dahlia is the official flower of San Francisco, joining garlic fries and green onion pancakes.

In the 16th century, those fun-loving Spanish conquistadors, while busy pillaging and wiping out the Aztec Indian nation, took some time out from their conquering to seach for the perfect chips and salsa to go along with a super burrito. They also managed to do a little exploring and turned these little side trips into a collection of new world plant life, while at the same time terrorizing and enslaving the Aztecs and completely taking the fun out of Cinco de Mayo.

These brilliant flowers were discovered growing wild on the sandy hillsides of Mexico, along with early sketches of the Frito Bandito and a Carlos Santana acoustic CD. The Aztecs gathered and cultivated the dahlia for food, ceremonies, as well as decorative items for open houses, pagan weddings and bar mitzvahs.

The dahlia is named after 18th century Swedish botanist Anders Dahl, who was a lovely man and quite a salsa dancer. And because of his striking looks, it was from this Swedish cupcake that the expression was coined, “Hey, dahlface.”

In 1872, a box of dahlia roots were sent by FedEx overnight from Mexico to the Netherlands along with a crate of flour tortillas. Only one of the plants and a chicken quesadilla survived the long journey, but it produced brilliant red flowers with petals that were pointed and rolled back that were later very popular with red light district shoppers and guacamole fans.

Nurserymen, kindergarteners and first graders from all over Europe bred from this one plant. These are the progenitors of the thousands of varieties of today’s modern day dahlias. As you can see from today’s photo six-pack, they are an incredibly exotic and wild looking flower, which is the same way I would describe my daughter Aimee in her formative years.

For flower lovers and Salvador Dahlia fans, dahlias symbolize commitment, long-lasting bonds and treasury notes. When given as a gift, the dahlia expresses sentiments of dignity, elegance and the fact the giver didn’t want to spend more than $10. For me, dahlias represents the fabulous and outrageous color that the Commisioner upstairs gives us during the summer season. Throw in a few roses and the fruitopia of watermelon, cantelope, won’t commit, cherries, peaches, nectarines, U.S. Marines and the joys of New York Yankee baseball, and this is what makes the canine days of August so delightful.

Here’s a little taste of the late night. “According to the Wall Street Journal, there is a growing movement among Democrats to replace Joe Biden as VP with Hillary Clinton in 2012. Do you realize that if that happens, for the first time Hillary will be directly under a president.” –Jay Leno “President Obama had a 24-hour vacation on the Gulf Coast of Florida. The president was there to promote tourism in the Gulf. He even jumped into the Gulf to prove it was safe. Unfortunately, he did a cannonball right onto a pelican.” –Jimmy Kimmel “Al-Jazeera’s English-speaking channel was nominated for an International Emmy. On the red carpet, Joan Rivers will be like, ‘Who are you wearing? And why is it ticking?’” –Jimmy Fallon

So that’s my tribute to the Dahlia Lama. Remember, laughter is an audible expression or the appearance of happiness that may ensue from jokes, tickling or reading hybred photo blogs. And birthday wishes go out Wednesday to my old Santa Cruz pal Joel Serber, who’s now living in Portland and still can’t believe the Blazers didn’t draft Kevin Durant. We’ll catch in the bullpen. Aloha, mahalo and later, Roger Clemens fans.

Good morning and greetings, NFL preseason fans. Our gloomy weather has been a popular theme this summer, as while the midwest and east coast continues to swelter through extreme heat and humidity, we’re fogged in and drizzled out. My wife and kids came back from the east coast and were shocked by the chilly weather-I haven’t seen Aimee’s teeth chatter like that since she learned she’ll have to take calculus.

Speaking of the sky, today’s story comes to us from our friends at space.com. The celestial spectacle known as the Perseid meteor shower announced its August arrival with a bright fireball and stirring rendition of “I wish I Was in Dixie” over the skies of sweet home Alabama. Viewers from around the world, along with Oprah and Dr. Phil, were delighted by these bright streaks of light darting across the night sky.

A small 1-inch wide meteor caused the fireball when it met a fiery demise August 3 while streaking through Earth’s atmosphere. The fireball was observed by skywatching cameras at NASA’s Marshall Space Flight Center in Huntsville, Alabama and by roadies and groupies from the Lynyrd Skynyrd band.

The Perseid meteor shower peaked on the night of August 12-13 between midnight and dawn, with no Tony Orlando in sight. The fireball was low and outside in the sky when it entered Earth’s atmosphere. NASA observations found the meteor to be hurtling through the atmosphere at a phenomenal 134,000 mph, or about the same speed I left the DMV office after passing my driving test.

According to a spokesman from NASA, “the meteor cut a path some 65 miles long. It was about six times brighter than the planet Venus and George Bush and would be classified as a fireball by scientists and major league scouts and pitching coaches.”

Because of its relatively low approach in the sky and its long, shallow path, which coincidentally, is what Bush’s high school guidance counselor predicted he’d follow with his life, the meteor qualified as a so-called Earth-grazing meteor. Earth-grazing meteors are space rocks that enter the Earth’s atmosphere at a low angle and appear to move slowly and dramatically along the horizon, like a flock of overweight sea gulls. NASA’s Bill Cooke, who is a fine chef in his own right, says, “earthgrazers skim the atmosphere overhead like a stone skipping across the surface of a pond. Much like the chateaubriand I prepared last night, they are rare, remarkable and very colorful, among the most beautiful of meteors.”

The Perseid meteor shower is an annual event that occurs in mid-August when the Oakland A’s fall out of the pennant race and the Earth passes close to the orbit of the Comet Swift-Tuttle. Comet Swift-Tuttle, whose debris creates the Perseids, is the largest known object, with the exception of Charlie Sheen, to make repeated passes near Earth. Its nucleus is about 6 miles across, roughly equal to the object that wiped out the dinosaurs and disco. Every August, like clockwork or Brett Favre saying he’s going to retire, our planet Earth cuts through the “river of rubble” left behind along the orbit of the comet.

And yet, while comets are composed chiefly of frozen gas, meteors, like my excuses for not using spellcheck, are very flimsy. They are material that, like solar dandruff, that have flaked off comets and are similar in consistency to cigar or Arthur Ashe. Most are scarcely larger than pebbles, grains of sand or the amount of true intelligence we gathered before invading Iraq. They vaporize as they enter Earth’s atmosphere, creating brilliant streaks across the sky, much like the blonde in my hair during my West Cliff days.

Material left behind by the comet, such as rayon and a nice polyester cotton blend, ram into the Earth’s atmosphere at about 37 miles per second. This creates a show of “shooting stars” that has become known as the Perseid meteor shower. These tiny visitors from the cold, vast voids of stellar space, or like newborns in a North Dakota winter, have been orbiting in the solar system for perhaps hundreds or even thousands of years. But they cannot survive the shock of entry and end up streaking across the sky in a brief, blazing finale lasting but a few seconds. Almost none hit the ground, but if one does, it’s an error and called a meteorite.

The Comet Swift-Tuttle and a John McCain high school yearbook were discovered by American astronomers Lewis Swift and Horace Tuttle back in 1862 when Abraham Lincoln was President. It takes the comet about 130 years to orbit the sun. Comet Swift-Tuttle was last seen in 1992, and is due back in 2126, or around the same time I hope to figure out how to use my computer.

The 2010 Perseid meteor shower was one of the best ever, as skywatchers could see about one meteor per minute with maxmum activity of 90 to 100 per hour. And as I’ve always said, when it comes to the Perseid shower, buffalo chicken wings or barbecued baby back ribs, the meteor the better.

As a bonus to our shower and bath coverage, while the planets and moon are all very far apart in space, they appeared in a triangular alignment last week thanks to a special circumstance of orbital mechanics and instant karma. The outer planets, Mars and Saturn, take much longer to go around the sun than the inner planets Venus and Serena. Venus “laps” the outer planets frequently, although Serena has won more titles and has a better serve.

But wait, there’s more. In the predawn of last week, Jupiter was a brilliant jewel high in the southern sky and impossible to miss. That is, unless you are living in Santa Cruz, where it was just a rumor as we had one clear morning in July and none so far in August. In fact, the last time I saw the son at daybreak was when Jason woke me up to ask for power of attorney. And Mercury also made an appearance on the horizon last week, which was a special treat, particularly since it was in the sky and not in my broiled swordfish with toasted almonds.

So on honor of folks here on the central coast seeing less action and color in the sky than you’d spot at a Tea Party pancake breakfast, today we are showcasing a previously unseen winter sunrise from 2010 The date was January 15, a Friday for those of you who are fact checking. Another Disney morning along West Cliff Drive. Not the most fantastic colors I’ve ever seen, but compared to the skies this summer, this is this the Super Bowl, World Series and the final eposide of last season’s “Sons of Anarchy” all wrapped up into one morning.

On to a little bit of the late night. “You know those controversial TSA full-body scanners? Well, they’re coming to airports here in New York next month. Great. Normally I take a Xanax before I fly, now I have to take a Viagra.” –Jimmy Fallon “Yesterday was President Obama’s birthday. He turned 49 years old, if you believe the liberal media.” –Jimmy Kimmel Levi Johnston is running for mayor of Wasilla, Alaska. Ironically, many of the babies he’ll kiss on the campaign trail will be his own.” –Jay Leno

So that’s our weather update. Birthday wishes go out today to my old LA pal Sue Arendt, who hails from the Nutmeg State and is now the Ivanka Trump of real estate up in Berkeley. So feel free to appreciate old friends and your good health. Enjoy the warming trend and we’ll catch you above the net. Aloha, mahalo and later, AVP fans.

Good morning and greetings, patchy fog and drizzle fans. Although the skies above Monterey Bay have been cloudier than my future with the State Department, thanks to the boys at NASA, I was able to check out an X-ray photo of the sun, (no, not Jason) last week that revealed plasma blasting off the its surface, which is known as a coronal mass ejection, or what bartenders refer to as a Corona Light. When these particles from the eruption reached Earth last Tuesday, they triggered a brilliant auroral display known as the Northern Lights and back to back episodes of “Rescue Me” and “Louie” on FX.

This story, which comes to us from Yahoo News, alerted me to the fact that skywatchers at high latitudes were in for a spectacular treat of the aurora borealis, which took center stage last Tuesday night. Like my warmup routine at my hatha yoga class, after a relatively quiet stretch, the sun appears to be ramping up its activity.

The sun’s surface erupted like George Steinbrenner last Sunday, blasting tons of plasma (ionized atoms and eves) into space, which is like milk being blown through a straw at 2.5 million miles an hour. These atoms headed towards Earth and created a stunning light show that folks hadn’t seen since Jimi Hendrix played the Fillmore East back in the 60’s. This spectacular solar activity was captured by photographers but not by yours truly, as it was way past my bedtime and I had an early wakeup call for a hand modeling shoot.

“This eruption was directed right at us and arrived here, along with A-Rod’s 600th home run, early in the day on August 4th,” said Leon Golub of the Harvard-Smithsonian Center for Astrophysics. “It’s the first major Earth-directed eruption in quite some time and about damn time he broke out of that batting slump.”

The solar eruption was spotted by NASA’s Solar Dynamics Observatory, which captures high-definition views of the sun at a variety of wavelengths along with studying why baseball doesn’t use instant replay. SDO was launched in February and peers deep into the layers of the sun, investigating the mysteries of its inner workings, much like my own psychoanalysis.

Views of aurorae are usually associated with Canada, Alaska and fans of Timothy Leary, but amateur astronomers and insomniacs in the northern U.S. states were told to look toward the north Tuesday and Wednesday evenings for rippling “curtains” of green and red light. And if any yellow light was spotted, observers were told to, if safe, prepare to stop short of the intersection.

When a coronal mass ejection reaches Earth, solar particles stream down our planet’s magnetic field lines toward the poles, urging us to vote. In the process, the particles collide with atoms of nitrogen and oxygen in the Earth’s atmosphere, which then glow, creating an effect similar to miniature neon signs saying “open 24 hours” and “ATM machine inside.”

The interaction of the solar particles with our planet’s magnetic field creates geomagnetic storms, or disturbances in our planet’s magnetosphere, resulting in the creation of groups like the Tea Party or Mother Grizzlies. This latest blast sparked a storm that lasted for nearly 12 hours, enough time for auroras to spread all the way from Europe to North America. The auroras turned the sky purple, green, blue, and orange, which are the same colors I dream in after eating some Cherry Garcia right before I go to sleep.

The sun’s activity, like my training for Ironman Triathlon, usually ebbs and flows on a fairly predictable cycle. Typically, a cycle lasts about 11 years, a period of time when there are few sunspots, to peak at the solar maximum, during which sunspot activity is amplified while I focus on nutrition, hydration and making sure my living trust is up to date.

The last solar maximum occurred in 2001. The latest minimum, like the Bush years, was particularly weak, long-lasting and devastating to our nation. The most recent solar eruption is one of the first signs that the sun, and hopefully lawmakers in Washington, are waking up and heading toward another maximum, where hope and jobs are created and we can outsource that monetary stress that pervades our country right now.

So in honor of the solar tsunami that sports fans were treated to last week, today we are going back to the beginning. These photos feature the first sunrise I ever shot with a digital camera, back in early January of 2005. When I first saw the colors from this morning, I wondered if the computer had altered them as they were so unusual, or a George Costanza would say, “a pinkish hue.”

The reason for these unique colors is that I shot this series way before the sun rose. I took this as a good sign for Sunrise Santa Cruz as just a few days later I shot my all-time favorite sunrise (Orange Explosion) on Dr. Martin Luther King’s birthday. But this morning, like the first time I laid eyes on my wife and being named to the Dean’s List at Syracuse, are moments that I carry very my close to my heart and kidneys.

Let’s go to the late night. “Happy birthday to President Obama. Republicans tried to block his birthday but they didn’t have enough votes, so it went through and the President was able to turn 49 today right on schedule.” –Jimmy Kimmel “Happy birthday to President Obama. If you want to get him a present, he’s registered at Bed, Bath, and Blame Bush.” –Jay Leno “President Obama is 49 years old today. He blew out all of his candles and wished for his old job back.” –David Letterman

“According to the National Enquirer, Bristol Palin has called of her engagement with Levi Johnston after finding out that he also got his ex-girlfriend Lanesia Garcia pregnant. Forget the oil spill, can someone put a cap on this guy.” –Jay Leno “Sarah Palin today said she has mixed feelings about this. On the one hand, she was never a big fan of Levi in the first place, but on the other hand, she had already shot the polar bear to make her daughter’s wedding dress.” –Jimmy Kimmel “President Obama announced his plan to remove all combat troops from Iraq by the end of August. So thank you to all the men and women serving in Iraq and ‘Good luck in Afghanistan!’” –Jimmy Fallon

So that’s our show. Birthday wishes go out to my EPA investigating cousin Geri Gilbert, who turns the big 50 today. And on Thursday it’s my old West Cliff pal Linda Krause, who never met a mango she didn’t like and doesn’t blame herself for the Celtic’s loss in game seven of the NBA Finals.

So be glad you’re not vacationing in Pakistan because heavy monsoon rains have created floods that are ravaging this nation-Osama Bin Laden hasn’t been on Facebook for days . And those wildfires raging in Russia are no day at the beach either, with the smoke causing the worst air pollution in that country’s history. So I guess I can live with a little coastal fog and beach volleyball.

So enjoy the last couple weeks of having the kids at home. And speaking of which, Jason was at Yankee Stadium last Wednesday when A-Rod hit his 600th homer. He didn’t catch the home run ball, but did manage to snag a Nathan’s Famous hot dog, a Johnny Rockets burger and a slice of Famiglia’s pizza. And that was just during batting practice. We’ll catch you behind the pitcher’s mound. Aloha, mahalo and later, Derek Jeter fans.

Good morning and greetings, August fans. Well, July 2010 is now history, and it will not go down as the warmest month of my life. Officially, that would have been November of 1952, when I spent the month perfecting my back stroke in the amniotic fluid. Which reminds me of the old joke, “waiter, there’s a fly in my soup. Force of habit, sir. Our chef used to be a tailor.” Or “don’t worry, the spider on your bread will get him.”

Anyway, I was at my daughter’s championship softball game last Wednesday night, and I don’t want to say it was chilly, but my electric blanket was shivering. Now, while we’ve been experiencing frigid summer weather, folks on the east coast have been sweating like Levi Johnston alone with Sarah Palin on a moose hunting trip.

I bring up this meteorological data up because my wife, children and various nannies just left on a ten day trip to New York City. Now, my bride has spent some time back east enjoying the wonders of the heat and humidity, but my son and daughter have never enjoyed that special feeling of extreme discomfort one gets from being in an summer sauna. As the slogan says, I love New York, especially when the humidity is over 100 percent.

Back in the old country, on those days of stifling heat and unbearable humidity, we would just lock down the compound, turn on the air conditioning and wait for Yankee baseball. And of course, there would be runs to the sacred Pizza King for a slice or a chicken parmesan sandwich. As I used to tell our family psychiatrist, “a slice a day keeps the doctor away.”

Which brings us back to New York, New York, the insomniac city that never sleeps. So much to do and see and be afraid of. The Empire State Building, the Statue of Liberty, Wall Street, the Museum of Unnatural History, Yankee Stadium, Hell’s Kitchen, Times Square, Madison Square Garden, Ground Zero, Little Italy, Big Italy and of course, Chinatown, featuring Hop Kee at 21 Mott Street, a true Cantonese experience that’s open till 4am on weekends. Reports are that the lo mein and wor shu gui chicken are still why God created chopsticks.

Throw in the Disunited Nations, Late Night with David Letterman, Rockefeller Front and Center and riding the New York City subways and you’ve had yourself quite a day. I would love to have gone on this trip and visited my ancestor’s sacred burial grounds, but Tommy Wolfe called to remind me that “you can’t go home again,” so I had to pass.

So for those of you who’ve never been to New York or who just love Derek Jeter, here are a few fun facts about the city they say is the greatest in the world. It was once said, if you stand at Times Square long enough, you’ll see the entire world walk or crawl by.

The Dutch purchased the island of Manhattan (really its southern tip) from the Algonquin tribe for trinkets, tools and some duct tape worth about $24. With that they built the Holland Tunnel. More than 60 percent of NYC’s residents do not own a car, a percentage higher than in any other city in the United States. Of the 60 percent who do own cars, 50 percent have had them stolen. The New York subway system is the largest mass transit system in the world with 468 stations and 842 miles of track that runs 24 hours a day. An average of 4.9 million people ride the New York City subway each weekday, with 3.9 million wishing the person next to them would move over a little bit.

New York City has 4,000 street food vendors selling hot dogs, pretzels, falafel, kebobs, and fake Rolexes. The first pizzeria in the United States was opened in NYC in 1895 by Gennaro Lombardi and his brother Pepperoni. Toilet paper was invented by NYC resident Joseph C. Gayetty in 1857, after enjoying a desert of plum pudding. America’s first vending machines were installed in the subways of New York City in 1888, and were broken into for the first time later that same day.

New York’s Yellow Cabs are yellow because John Hertz, the company’s founder, craved daffodils and learned from a study that yellow was the easiest color for the eye to spot. The “New York Post,” established in 1803 by Alexander Hamilton, is the oldest running newspaper in the United States and the place were my thoughts about the NBA could be consistently read by inquiring minds throughout the 1990’s. And finally, New York City is the most populated city in the USA with more than 8.2 million people. 37 percent of the city’s population is foreign-born, which makes this the U.S. city with people utterering obscenities in the most foreign languages at 170.

Moving on to our photo festivities, I like to start out each new month with some color and play-by play. Now, I shoot sunrises and sunsets in August about as often as I admire what the Republicans are doing in Washington, so it came as a bigger surprise than my SAT scores when this sunset hit the skies back on August 5, 2008.

I was shooting this parade of clouds from Stockton Avenue along West Cliff Drive. What added to the drama were the unending chains of pelicans flying thru this glowing festival of light, with some more than sixty strong, adding a Nature Channel bonus to this blessed event. And if that wasn’t enough, a rainbow appeared in the eastern sky, making this the most photographically spectacular August evening since Chelsea Clinton’s bachelorette party.

On to the late night. “Vice President Joe Biden has declared that the heavy lifting is over for the year, and it’s time to begin campaigning and talking about the White House’s accomplishments. The heavy lifting might be over, but it sounds like the heavy shoveling is just beginning.” –Jay Leno “WikiLeaks has posted over 90,000 classified documents about the war in Afghanistan. The Pentagon is outraged, the White House is furious, but British Petroleum is relieved: ‘Finally, a leak we had nothing to do with.’” –Jay Leno “Leaked documents show that Pakistan has been taking American money and using it to fund the Taliban. The Pakistanis are denying it, and they’re like, ‘The Taliban bought those iPods with their own money.’” –Craig Ferguson

“Congress’ approval rating has hit an all-time low of 11 percent. To give you an idea of how bad that is, the BP oil spill is at 12 percent.” –Jay Leno “BP is firing its CEO, Tony Hayward. They’re negotiating a settlement for $18 million. Boy, that’ll teach him.” –David Letterman “BP CEO Tony Hayward complained that he was unfairly ‘demonized’ in the U.S. over his handling of the Gulf oil spill. In response, demons complained that they were unfairly compared to BP CEO Tony Hayward.” –Jimmy Fallon

“Continental announced a new feature called ’self boarding.’ There’s no ticket agent taking your boarding pass anymore, and you scan it yourself as you board the plane. It’s part of Continental’s ‘Terrorists Fly Hassel-free’ program.” –Jay Leno “A federal judge has blocked Arizona’s immigration law. Immigrants have been celebrating and throwing confetti. The governor of Arizona said, ‘Sure, now they’re showing us their papers.’” –Craig Ferguson Starbucks’ profits went up 37 percent in the third quarter of this year. They say they owe the increase to their new strategy of opening a Starbucks inside an existing Starbucks.” –Jimmy Fallon

So Jeb Bush is running for president. I don’t know about the rest of the country, but thank God, ladies and gentlemen, the comedy recession is over! “A lot of security at the Chelsea Clinton wedding, a huge security detail, and that’s just to keep Bill from the bridesmaids.” -David Letterman “Facebook now has 500 million users. The previous record holder was heroin.” –Jimmy Kimmel

So that’s our first blast for of the new month. Special birthday wishes on August 7 go out to my favorite daughter Aimee, who’s turning sweet 13 and growing more beautiful and entertaining every day. Celebrating on this same day is my old Hermosa Beach pal Bruce Meyers, who when he hears the word “strand,” doesn’t think hair. Also joining the parade this day is my old Syracuse partner in crime, Rhonda Starer, who first turned me on to the the wonders of Hop Kee and chow fun. Then on the 8th, my favorite microbiologist, Dr. Charlotte Borgeson, celebrates her special day with cake, ice cream and a lecture on the wonders of mozzarella cheese.

Reports from the Big Apple say the humidity is on hold, so my family got luckier than Heat fans in Miami. So enjoy the good moments of the day. And if you know someone who’s not doing so well on the health front, say a little prayer for them. We’ll catch you down the left field line. Aloha, mahalo and later, Lance Berkman fans.

Good morning and greetings, Moby Dick fans. Last week, I wrote of a massive convergence of blue whales in Monterey Bay. My ever-curious, gluten-free, snowboard blogging brother Brad, who himself just returned from the Galapagos Islands on a sales call, wondered if we’d ever see any of these whales. My immediate reaction was probably not, as I haven’t been down to the Point Lobos area since my runway modeling days were cut short because of a growth spurt.

But then, before you could say the Humpback of Notre Dame, I received an email from one of the top basketball stats keepers in the county, who reminded me that her pal Bruce had taken some amazing whale shots out on the bay. Actually, Bruce had told me he’d been out on the water shooting, but due my to undercover work for the EPA and the fact that my dendrites are vanishing faster than the two-toed sloth and the blue-tongued skink, I failed to put two and two together. But all was not lost, as although we are not singing the blues ,it’s humpback Monday here at Sunrise Santa Cruz.

So what do we know about humpback whales? Well, thanks to www.acsonline.org and sailhawaii.com, here are some fun facts. Much like myself before I discovered TiVo, humpbacks are active, acrobatic creatures who can throw themselves completely out of the water (breaching) and swim on their backs with both flippers in the air. They also engage in “tail lobbing” (raising their huge flukes out of the water and then slapping it on the surface,) “flipper slapping” (using their flippers to slap the water) and “whippersnapping”, which is when the young calves act really presumptuous .

Perhaps the most interesting behavior of humpback whales is their singing and guitar playing. Scientists have discovered that humpback whales sing long, complex, seductive ballads, much like Led Zeppelin’s “Stairway to Heaven.” Whales in the North American Atlantic population sing the same song (“Free Bird”), while all the whales in the North American Pacific population sing the same song (“Highway to Hell.”)

A typical song lasts from 10-20 minutes, and is repeated continuously for hours at a time, much the same way I play Hootie and the Blowfish’s “Can’t Find The Time To Tell You,” on the CD player in my car. The songs, like my hair color and basketball stats from my playing days, change gradually from year to year. Singing whales are males and mostly baritones, as the songs may be a part of mating behavior or just a way to attract really hot-looking dolphins.

To Hawaiians and a couple of guys from Jersey, the whale is a representation of the Hawaiian god, Kanaloa, the god of animals in the ocean. A large percentage of the North Pacific humpbacks, big wave surfers, and t-shirt vendors migrate to the Hawaiian islands during the winter months each year. During their stay they do not feed, but rely upon stored energy and take out plate lunches. The whales devote most of their time to mating, giving birth to their calves and working as extras in the new CBS series “Hawaii Five-O.”

So it was back on July 9th that artist, photographer and zone trap designer Bruce Stahl boarded the Stagnaro family boat “Velocity” for some whale watching on Monterey Bay. The Stagnaros, who’ve been serving fish n’ ships since 1879, proclaim that here you can see seven different species of whales, seven different species of dolphin and porpoises and seven different species of mankind experiencing seasickness on these trips.

But Bruce was out there to shoot jumpers and the humpbacks, which is not an easy task. The first shot shows that massive size and girth of these incredible creatures. Shot number two is what the humpback experience is all about. With just a head fake and a few pumps of its tail, the humpback can propel its entire body into the air, landing back onto the surface with a resounding splash that can soak half of Moss Landing.

Much like my drives to the hoop, breaching is a true leap where a whale generates enough upward force with its powerful flukes to lift approximately two-thirds of its body out of the water. Researchers and four out of five dentists are not certain why whales breach, but believe that it may be related to courtship, play activity or their recommendation of sugarless gum.

Shots five and six showcase the tail slap, not to be confused with the NFL head slap, which consists of a whale raising its tail flukes out of water and slapping them forcefully on the surface of the water. When the flukes hit the water, a loud resonant noise can be heard from Phil’s Fish House to the Crow’s Nest, where I recommend the calamari appetizer. Humpback whales are known to repeat this behavior over and over, the same way I like tapping people on the opposite shoulder when approaching them from behind.

Of the experience, Bruce, who is also my son Jason’s basketball coach, said, “it was pretty amazing out there. It was tough to anticipate where they were going to surface so that made it challenging. The whales are so huge and the splashes and water displacement were stunning. I’ve never seen anything like it, except for the time you showed up to run with us at open gym.”

One final whale note. Last week, a South African couple was out sailing off the coast of Captetown when a 40-ton whale breached and crash-landed on their yacht. I can relate, as I’m pissed off when a bug lands on my windshield. No one was hurt although bits of black whale blubber, barnacles and a Shamu sweatshirt were strewn on the boat deck. So all’s whale that ends whale.

On to the late night. “We have some wonderful news. BP announced it successfully capped the oil leak. The oil leak has stopped. I am so glad they were able to nip this thing in the bud. Before they capped it, BP had to test the integrity of the well, which I believe is the first time BP and integrity have ever been used in the same sentence.” –Jay Leno “Apparently BP’s containment cap is leaking. When asked if the rumors are true, a BP spokesman said, ‘Aren’t there any more Mel Gibson tapes?’” –Craig Ferguson “The CEO of British Petroleum is leaving his job. It’s not official, it just leaked out.” –David Letterman

“Well, this week, Bristol Palin and Levi Johnston revealed exclusively to Us Weekly, my bible, that they are getting married. Sarah Palin allegedly not happy about this, because she feels they barely know each other and they are making a big commitment. You know, kind of like when John McCain picked her for vice president.” –Jay Leno Bristol Palin is getting married to Levi Johnston. Sarah Palin is so excited that she can’t even make up words to express how thrilled she is.” –David Letterman Bristol Palin wants Levi Johnston to wear a camouflage vest at their wedding next month. When she heard that, Sarah Palin was like, ‘That’s fine, I wasn’t planning on aiming that high anyway.’” –Jimmy Fallon

“According to a study by the Brookings institution, Washington D.C. has the highest concentration of smart people in the United States. Lets see; we have a mess in the Gulf, we have a dysfunctional Homeland Security, and we are $13 trillion in debt. Imagine how bad it would be if these people weren’t geniuses. Dick Cheney is recovering from heart surgery in the hospital. I understand Fox sent flowers, and MSNBC sent a large pepperoni pizza with extra cheese. Newspaper circulation has fallen to a new low and they say they are becoming obsolete. To give you an idea of how bad it is, today I saw a guy sleeping on a park bench with an iPad on his face.” –Jay Leno

“You remember Bill Clinton? Bill and Hillary went out and bought a brand-new house in upstate New York. It’s one of those houses that has a name. I believe it’s called Rancho Impeacho. It’s so hot in New York City that conservatives have started the ‘Iced Tea Party.’ David Letterman’s Top Ten Things Overheard on President Obama’s Vacation 10. “Please, Mr. President, don’t throw your butts in the pool” 5. “Any interest in pardoning Lindsay Lohan?” 1. “A 48-hour vacation? Bush took naps longer than that”

So that’s it for our last blast for July 2010. I don’t want to say the summer is flying by, but I already have my clothes picked out for the first day of school. So enjoy those summer picnics and be ever grateful for the plentiful food around us because believe me, it’s not that way for everyone, including too many families across this country. We’ll catch you down the third base line. Aloha, mahalo and later, Jorge Posada fans.

Good morning and greetings, capped oil well fans. Well, the weather, much like my love for skinny jeans, has turned here on the central coast, as the fog, chill and gloom have been temporarily replaced by clear, sunny skies. But the blue sky, warm breezes and clam chowder in a bread bowl are not the only things that have returned, and as an incredible number of blue whales came to party in Monterey Bay about two weeks ago. Combine that with the reaper fans who swam here to see Blue Oyster Cult at the Boardwalk on June 25, and the bay’s burnin’ for you.

In a story, or “In-A-Gadda-Vida” for you Iron Butterfly fans, written by Laith Agha for the Monterey Herald, July 7 was once of the most extraordinary whale watching days ever here on Monterey Bay. Nancy Black, a marine biologist and owner of the Monterey Bay Whale Watch, says this is the first time since 2003 that blue whales or Dodger fans had been seen in any sizable numbers in the Monterey Bay.

At the time, including humpback whales and Miami Dolphins, 140 baleen whales were feeding in local waters. They flocked to Monterey’s waters to visit the acquarium and to feed on the abundance of krill, a favorite food of baleen whales. Instead of teeth, blue and humpback whales trap their food with baleen, a flexible bone structure that looks like a gigantic comb and acts as a filtering system that sieves small animals from ocean water, which is the same process I used to filter thru the sweet and sour shrimp at the Mandarin Garden’s all-you-can-eat buffet.

Because of the ecotourism, Northern Pacific blue whales typically breed and vacation 400 miles west of Costa Rica, then head north and toward the coast to feed. Though they often are spotted around the central coast from July to October, they have been spending the past few feeding seasons fattening up near Santa Barbara and farther south. This is because that is where the most krill has been and many are Laker fans, says local blue whale expert Tony Lorenz.

The prevalence of krill in local waters depends largely on oceanic upwelling, a wind-driven process that causes nutrient-rich water from the ocean depths to move toward the surface. So it’s not just the Kareem that rises to the top. Conditions have not been right in recent years to support large krill populations in the waters around Monterey, Lorenz says. Because blue whales primarily feed on krill and the fact that the Warriors only have made the playoff once over the last 16 years, they have not come around much.

At 75 to 100 feet long and upward of 100 tons, blue whales are the largest animals on Earth. They are larger than any dinosaur or anyone in Yao Ming’s family. To satisfy their appetites, they eat 4 tons of krill and a sandwich each day. There are about 10 million krill and a kosher pickle in each ton. Krill and avocado salad are the only things blue whales eat. The tiny shrimp-like creatures cluster together and whales ingest hundreds of thousand of them on at a time along with cocktail sauce and a few Ritz crackers.

Because of unregulated whaling in the first half of the 20th century, the blue whale was nearly hunted to extinction. That’s why I’m not crazy about harpoons or anyone mentioning my blubber. About 360,000 were killed from 1900 to 1966, when the International Whaling Commission banned hunting of blue whales. The global blue whale population is estimated at 10,000, with about 2,200 believed to live in the Pacific Ocean off North America or in Capitola.

Because of their size and oil inside them, blue whales were one of the most hunted whales for centuries. By the early 1900s they were almost extinct and rebuilding the species or a franchise is not easy, just ask Golden State Warriors fans.

The whales seem to be using long range communication or Facebook, as they can hear each other from a couple miles away to try and get the word out about the krill a minute. When blue whales have shown up in the past, they have been known to stay through summer and fall, then some head south as late as Christmas while the Jewish whales stayed thru Hanukah.

But how long they stay this time will depend on the food supply. “They could be here for a few days or a few months,” Black says. “We hope they’ll stay around here for a while.” Most likely they’ll stick around until, in the words of BB King. “the krill is gone.”

Let’s move onto this week’s photo entry. It was exactly three years ago today that I was heading down to the Boardwalk the see the fabulous Eddie Money in action. As I walked along West Cliff Drive, I spotted a pelican feeding frenzy in progress and hustled back to my car, grabbed my camera and proceeded to take more shots than Cav’s owner Dan Gilbert did at LeBron James after he announced he was joining Dywane Wade in South Beach.

Some kind of bait fish was running in the bay as the pelicans were dive bombing into the water like baseball fans going after a Derek Jeter home run ball at Yankee Stadium. It was a warm, beautiful night as I joined the pelicans to soak in the Money Man’s medly, including my personal favorite, “Wanna be a rocker, wanna be a rocker, wanna be a rock n’ roll star.” Eddie, who’s been performing here for years, was in classic form that evening. In his words, “I remember coming here in the 70’s when I was snorting South American countries.” All his greatest hits and a geography lesson.

I took the last couple of shots of the gulls and the coastline after the show. Just a classic combo of nature and rock, as there was a whole lot of shakin’ going on along the edge of the continent. The Money Man hits the Boardwalk this summer on July 30, with two shows at 6:30 and 8:30. And the best part is, the sand, sea, and sounds are free. As they say at Fort Knox, rich or poor, it’s nice to have Eddie Money.

And here’s the late night. “Rush Limbaugh had an apartment here in New York City. He sold the apartment for $11.5 million. That is $2.5 million for the apartment and $9 million for what they found in the medicine cabinet. But it was a huge apartment — 4,000 square feet of space. No, wait a minute, that’s Rush. Sold it for $11.5 million. It has a very narrow view. It overlooks the flaws of the Republican Party.” –David Letterman

“Let me say congratulations to Spain. They won the World Cup yesterday. Spanish people all over the world celebrated in the streets, except of course, in Arizona.” –Jay Leno “South Korea has new robots along its border with North Korea that can detect and kill intruders. Meanwhile they’re installing robots along the U.S. border that say ‘Hola.’” –Jimmy Fallon BP is putting a new cap on the leaking oil well. It could capture up to 90 percent of the disgusting filth that’s spewing from there. And if it works, they’re going to try the same thing on Mel Gibson.” –Craig Ferguson

“A lot of people continue to be very upset by the fact that we can’t get Osama bin Laden. Osama bin Laden? We can’t even get Roman Polanski. Yankees owner George Steinbrenner passed away. He was a tough guy. Within five minutes in heaven, he fired God and told Jesus to lose the beard.” –Jay Leno “If you know anything about the big spy swap here in New York City, there were 10 spies and they were running around New York City stealing secrets. They arranged a big spy swap. It was very exciting. We sent them 10 spies, and they sent us four spies, plus a Cuban pitcher.” –David Letterman

So that’s it for this week’s entertainment. Last Wednesday, a gopher came out of a hole in my front yard and saw his shadow, which means at least six more weeks of saying, “what the hell are we doing in Afghanistan?” On a more positive note, congratulations go out to my cousin Gina, who’s softball pitching daughter Julie gave birth the same day to a 8 pound, 11 ounce boy. Reports are both mother and son Landon are doing well while Gina is warming up in the bullpen.

So enjoy the super selection of summer fruits and let’s all look forward to the day when we start to rebuild the Warriors and this country. We’ll catch you on the warning track. Aloha, mahalo and greetings, Joe Lacob fans.

Good morning and greetings, heat wave fans. While the east coast was suffering under scorching, brutal, record breaking heat and humidity last week, the central coast was cooler than the other side of my pillow. If you like cold and foggy weather in the July, then Santa Cruz was the place to be. What tourist doesn’t love wearing mittens and a down jacket at the beach? Or to paraphrase my old pal Mark Twain, “the coldest winter I ever spent was a summer riding the Big Dipper.”

The temperatures have been sweltering inland, but the chilly, gray sky mornings are normal weather for the coast. According to meteorlogist Diana Henderson of the National Weather Service in Monterey, “it’s not unusual. This happens every year at this time. That’s why they film ‘Baywatch’ in Hawaii.” It’s understandable, because we wouldn’t want to see Pamela Anderson wrapped in a blanket as she tries to save a school of baby dolphins from getting caught in a riptide. That would defeat the porpoise.

The central coast’s frigid summer conditions comes mostly from the chilly Pacific Ocean, which acts as an air conditioner and minty air freshener, according to Henderson. “Without it, we’d be Nevada.” That’s right, blackjack, showgirls and the illusions of Siegfried & Roy, right here, where the redwoods meet the sea and anarchy.

My thanks to Shanna McCord of the Santa Cruz Sentinel for the weather service updates. When I woke up Tuesday morning, the ground was soaked like my tank top after a ten mile run up the coast. It looked like rain, but it was actually the drizzle from the heavy fog. I hadn’t seen that much condensation on the ground since Jennifer Beals took the stage in ‘Flashdance.’

That brings us to our top news story of the week. As reported by Andrew Zajac in the Los Angeles Times, the Agriculture Department’s Natural Resources Conservation Service said it would begin paying some gulf region farmers, ranchers and football coaches to flood their fields so that migratory birds can find alternative rest and nesting grounds to oil-fouled habitats.

The Migratory Bird Habitat Initiative will pay to use up to 150,000 acres of land “to provide feeding, resting and reading areas for migratory birds.” The program applies mainly to former wetlands, low-lying land and skateboard parks in Alabama, Arkansas, Florida, Georgia, Louisiana, Mississippi, Missouri, Texas and France. Conservation officials are hoping to attract birds who don’t have internet access to safe areas before they land on shores and wetlands contaminated by the massive oil spill.

Landowners would be expected to flood fields and promote the growth of vegetation and snacks favored by migratory birds, or to enhance existing wetlands on their properties, as rice fields, fish farms and Long John Silver restaurants are particularly suited to the initiative.

The Deepwater Horizon oil spill has fouled off numerous pitches along with marshes and coastal areas relied on by birds and other wildlife. The gulf region sits beneath one of the world’s major migratory flyways, with about 1 billion birds from more than 300 species passing through annually, says Greg Butcher, a vegetarian and director of bird conservation for the National Audubon Society. “None of this is guaranteed to work,” Butcher says. “We’re expecting that this will work at least a little bit. We’re hoping that it’ll help a lot. What I’m really trying to say is these birds are screwed”

On that positive note, in a story reported by Michael Kunzleman for the Associated Press, less than three years before New Orlean Saints won the Super Bowl and the Gulf oil spill erupted, federal regulators and a couple of fortune tellers concluded several offshore drilling projects posed a low risk to endangered wildlife – a determination that contrasts sharply with recent scenes of birds and vacationers struggling to survive the slick.

A September 2007 memo from the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service said large oil spills from the proposed Gulf drilling projects under review were “low-probability events” that weren’t likely to affect brown pelicans, sea turtles, other animals or the economic futures of fisherman, shrimpers and oyster lovers with Gulf Coast habitats.

The memo concluded that the chance of oil from an offshore spill of at least 1,000 barrels reaching endangered species or their habitats was no greater than 26 percent. Now, I’m no math whiz, but I’d calculate their estimates were off by, approximately, let’s say, a million percent.

Less than three months before the Fish and Wildlife Service issued its memo, the National Marine Fisheries Service concluded that the same Gulf leases, including BP’s for Deepwater Horizon, were “not likely to jeopardize the continued existence of threatened or endangered species.” Well, I’m sure that comes as a relief to all the migrating birds and their families. Because as we all know, a bird in the hand is worth two gallons in the Bush administration.

So in honor of Larry Bird and friends, I thought we would take a look at some winged creatures who reside here on the central coast. We start with a great blue heron, who I photographed right outside the arch early one morning at Its Beach. I shot the snowy egret in the landing mode right after it had flown through the same arch on an extreme low tide afternoon. This was the same day I photographed a rainbow through the arch and decided that I wanted to be Mikhail Baryshnikov when I grow up.

Then it’s onto four snowy egrets in a marshland up in Richardson Bay in Mill Valley, followed by some pink flamingos vacationing in Palm Desert and a snowy egret reflecting in the pond at Natural Bridges. Flamingos don’t actually live here on the central coast but sometimes journey to Monterey Bay for a spa weekend and to have their legs shaved. Much like myself, they enjoy standing on one leg with the other tucked beneath their body. It’s both relaxing and a way to save on the wear and tear of our shoes.

The final image is a red shouldered hawk, who I photographed at Antonelli’s Pond, which is less than a mile by the way the crow flies from my compound here on the westside. It was early in the afternoon when I spotted this beauty. With my zoom, I was able to get close enough to get a shot of those incredible talons wrapped around the branch. And the best part is, this is the only hawk, besides Dominique Wilkins, that I’ve seen in this spot over the past eleven years. There’s something about capturing the flag or the moment.

Here’s a taste of the late night. “The East Coast is suffering from a terrible heat wave. Wall Street bankers are jumping out of windows just for the cool breeze on the way down. You people are so lucky you live in California. This heat wave back east is just unbelievable. … It was so hot in Washington, Nancy Pelosi skipped the Botox, had her face injected with frozen yogurt. Back in 1776, Americans were fighting to escape British rule, these days we’re fighting to escape British oil. They say traces of BP’s oil has started turning up in disturbing places, like congressmen’s pockets.” –Jay Leno

So that’s our show, petroleum lovers. Here’s a few quick petro facts before I cruise off into the fog bank. Americans drivers consume 19-20 million barrels of oil every 24 hours. That’s 10,000 gallons a second. If we all drove 30 miles less per week, oil consumption would drop 20%. Then again, if my aunt had,er, spheres, she’d be my uncle. Just a few things to think about the next time you fill up the old Hummer.

So in honor of the uniting of LeBron James and Dwyane Wade, I’m taking my Sonny Crockett jacket out of mothballs. Sorry Knick fans, but your suffering will continue.

So enjoy the long days of summer and let’s hope someday that we leave Afghanistan. And if you have moment, say a little prayer for the displaced and homeless. We’ll catch you in the American Airlines Arena. Aloha, mahalo and later, David Lee fans.

Good morning and greetings, fireworks fans. I know many of you are enjoying the holiday but perhaps wondering, how come most of us are not working today? So as part of my patriotic duty and for the fact that I love singing “I’m a Yankee Doodle Dandy,” with the help of Wikipedia, answers.com and my unending stream of semi-conciousness, here’s a quick refresher course on why kids blowing off their fingers and firecrackers on the Fourth of July has become part of the American landscape.

In the United States, Alaska and Hawaii , Independence Day is a federal holiday commemorating the adoption of the Declaration of Independence which declared our independence from the Great Britain, which except for their language, wasn’t really all that great. The Fourth of July is commonly associated with fireworks, parades, barbecues, fist fights, carnivals, fairs, picnics, drunken driving arrests, concerts, baseball games, domestic violence and political speeches that help celebrate one of America’s great three-day weekends.

The trial separation of the American colonies from Great Britain occurred on July 2, 1776, when the Second Continental Congress voted to approve a resolution of independence along with an internship for Monica Lewinsky. Congress then turned its attention to the Declaration of Independence, which had been prepared by a Committee of Five and the Five Stairsteps, with Thomas Jefferson as its principal author. Congress debated and revised the Declaration, finally approving it on July 4. A day earlier, John Adams texted to his wife Abigail:

“The second day of July, 1776, will be the most memorable epoch in the history of America, and not just because most Americans will be home from work. I am apt to believe that it will be celebrated by succeeding generations as the great anniversary festival and blowout mattress sale day. It ought to be commemorated as the day of deliverance, by solemn acts of devotion to God Almighty and Major League Baseball. It ought to be solemnized with pomp and parade from one end of this continent to the other, from this time forward forever more, or at least until we restore our economy, exit Iraq and Afghanistan, and clean up that damn oil spill.”

Adams’ prediction and my birth were off by two days. In a remarkable coincidence, both Adams and Thomas Jefferson, two founding fathers of the United States and the only two men who signed the Declaration of Independence to later become president, died within hours of each other on the same day: July 4, 1826, which was the United States’ 50th anniversary, and the same day of birth as my high school homecoming queen, Vicki Grimsland, the Michelle Pfeiffer of Fort Lee High. Happy birthday, Vicki, and will you please sign my yearbook.

The Declaration of Independence declared. “We hold these truths to be self-evident,
that all men (with the exception of Michael Jordan) are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.” Coincedentally, this is the same oath I had take from Direct TV when I ordered by NBA League Pass.

With these memorable words, Thomas Jefferson, at the age of 33, laid the cornerstone for the United States of America and later his late wife’s half sister, Sally Hemings. The Declaration of Independence invokes the principle of natural rights and lefts. These are the basic rights of which each individual is possessed, and of which he cannot be stripped by society or government except during the George W. Bush administration.

The adoption of the Declaration of Independence and the opening of the first Circuit City took place against the backdrop of ongoing Revolutionary War hostilities. When the signers affixed their John Hancocks and signatures upon the document they were, in the words of the group Triumph, “laying it on the line,” since there was a bounty on the revolutionaries’ heads. Who knew this kind of trouble could come from absorbent paper towels that clean up the smallest spills and biggest messes.

When Benjamin Franklin said, upon signing the Declaration of Independence, “We must all hang together, or assuredly we shall all hang separately,” it was no less than the literal truth. Just ask Saddam Hussein. Fifty-six men and a notary public signed the first copy of the Declaration of Independence. John Hancock, as president of Congress, was first, and he famously wrote his name front, center and large, right before cutting the ribbon on opening of his first insurance company. Remember, for all your financial needs, we have the solution. We’re John Hancock.

Let’s move on to this week’s photo sunspots. Traditionally, July is not a big month for sunrises or the cleanup of the biggest environmental disaster in world history. Looking back into the archives, I have only photographed one July morning sky blowing up over Monterey Bay in the past five years. This is due to coastal fog, lack of clouds and the fact that my contract with National Geographic allows me to sleep in past 5:30 am in the summer.

This central coast beauty graced our skies in July of 2006. It was a warm summer morning, a day that Michelle Obama probably went sleeveless. I woke up from my usual dream of not having studied for my test after not being able to find my car keys while being buck naked. So with that fine start to the day, I grabbed my Miley Cyrus mug, filled it with Red Bull and headed down to the coast.

As you know, when it comes to sunrises, I don’t stray far from Lighthouse Point. But at this time of the year, the sun rises further to the east, so I headed to Cowell’s Beach for the low tide equinox. Surfers were out in full force, as the offshore winds had me swaying as gently as a dancer at a Taliban bachelor party. As you can see, it was a fantastic start to the day, as the clouds, the reflection on the sand and the voices in my head all came together for this convergence of morning light.

On to the late night. “Sunday is July 4, when America combines our two favorite pastimes: alcohol and explosives. The fireworks are beautiful to look at, but more importantly, they drown out the gunfire.” –David Letterman “July 4 is my favorite holiday. No presents, no church, just a lighter and a trunk full of explosives.
Here’s a fireworks safety tip. Don’t get drunk and leave bottle rockets on the grill unless you want to see your hot dogs fly, which is fun too. For the second day, there were no World Cup games. I missed the sound of vuvuzelas so much that I taped a beehive to my head.” –Jimmy Kimmel

“BP’s company newsletter has an article that says most gulf residents aren’t upset with BP because their cleanup crews have boosted the local economy. BP taking credit for boosting the economy in the gulf is like al Qaeda taking credit for creating jobs in airport security.” –Jimmy Kimmel “Here’s something great. Russian spy ring here in New York City. They were busted in New York City. Once again, they were spotted by an alert T-shirt vendor. The Russian spies tried to blend in. They were acting like Americans. As a matter of fact, for two weeks, they were pretending they loved soccer.” –David Letterman

So that’s our first blast for July 2010. Yesterday, I drove by a cemetery, where hundreds of American flags were blowing in the wind. And then it hit me like a ton of emotional bricks, this is what this holiday is all about. For all our faults, God Bless America, home of the brave, land of the free. Or as they say in the NBA, “my country, ’tis of thee, sweet land of free agency.” LeBron James, of thee I sing.

Anyway, take a moment to remember how fortunate you are to be an American. Or a National Leaguer. We’ll catch you in the bullpen. Aloha, mahalo and later, Larry King fans.

Good morning and greetings, sports fans. What a wild and wacky week for supporters on the athletics front. Now, if you know me, you know I’m a soccer nut. Wherever I go, I’m dribbling a soccer ball and yelling GOOOOAAAAALLLLL! I say, what’s not to like about a sport that has little scoring, where the majority players never get use their arms and the fans riot in the stands? USA, USA, USA!

But of course, that’s not the whole story. The USA national team’s journey into this international Woodstock of corner kicks, yellow cards and players faking injuries is teeming with story lines. We’re talking game-deciding goals taken away by outrageously poor officiating, last-minute winning kicks and those nail-biting scoreless tie games. Personally, as a gifted learner, creative thinker and high achiever, I’ve set many goals for myself. Unfortunately, Landon Donovan fans, none have come on the soccer field. Here today, Ghana tomorrow.

Growing up in the Garden State of New Jersey, we did not play ultimate frisbee or launch scud missles with our foreheads to try and score goals. We did play a much less sophisticated form of the sport in kickball, where I performed like Pele in PF Flyers. There must be something genetic in my jeans as neither my son or daughter has much interest in the sport or ever blowing one of those vuvuzela horns. Just a couple of minutes of hearing those made me want to strangle Nelson Mandela and rip out my eardrums. God bless FIFA, as my World Cup runneth over.

Now I understand the excitement surrounding the best players from each country getting together for this kumbaya of international sports competition. The scene in South Africa reminded me of my first trip to Yankee Stadium. I was as excited as Tony Hayward visiting the White House as we crossed over the George Washington Bridge and heading into the Bronx to visit the House the Ruth built.

Earlier in the day, I knew this event was going to be something special as I put on my baseball cap, grabbed by glove and tightened up my bulletproof vest. And when we arrived at these hallowed halls of Yankee greatness and peanut shells, I was not disappointed, although I couldn’t believe all the cursing, violence and alcohol abuse, and that were just among the security guards. “Buy me some macadamia nuts and Cracker Jack, I don’t care if I never go back.”

Then for you tennis fans, we had the match of the ages at Wimbledon, as a five-set thriller between American John Isner and Frenchman John Mahut, (who curiously didn’t surrender,) lasted 11 hours and 5 minutes. That’s right, Brooklyn Decker fans, 11 hours plus. You could have flown to England, picked up some fresh muffins and an autograph from Hugh Grant, gotten back on the plane and arrived home with time to catch the final game and a repeat of “Benny Hill.”

The fifth set itself was a six hour plus marathon, or about the same amount of time it takes me to get dressed for a wedding or an exorcism. Because if you know me, you know I like to dress for success. The score in the fifth set was 70-68, which is like a soccer game ending at 50-49. A match like this, much like weight dropping under 175, will never be seen again.

In the mail this week, I received my new copy of Boys’ Life and Via, the AAA Traveler’s Companion magazine. In the section, “Reader’s Favorite Places to watch sunsets, the first location listed was Lighthouse Point, Santa Cruz, CA. In the words of Tania Garber, “no freeways, buildings, or mountains obscure the view from the cliffs. As the sky and Monterey Bay morph from one beautiful color to another, it’s like watching a movie in its entirety.” Tania, I could not have plagerized it any better.

So for today’s photo listings, we are heading to this glorious spot. These are two sunsets I shot from Tania’s favorite spot. I like shooting here because of the sweeping ocean view, the dynamic color of the cloud reflection action on the sand and the parking is free.

The first three shots are from an early October twilight experience while the last three came in mid-February. For those loyal observers of the sky at dusk, these are good times of the year as summers are a bummer on the color front. We just don’t get the clouds. I haven’t shot a sunrise in months, and that’s why someone like myself, who craves color in the sky and blueberry muffins, doesn’t hibernate in the winter.

On to the late night. “You know about the big change in Afghanistan? General McChrystal did an interview in Rolling Stone and he was talking about how much he didn’t like Joe Biden. He was talking about the Administration. He was trashing everybody. So President Obama calls the guy home from Afghanistan, and they had, like, a sit-down in the White House, in the Oval Office, today. It was very, very intimate. It was the President, it was General McChrystal, the Salahis, and that’s it. The general is in trouble for shooting off his mouth. Once again, another hole Obama can’t plug.” –David Letterman “Today, President Obama fired General Stanley McChrystal, saying McChrystal showed poor judgment in his Rolling Stone interview. It turns out when it comes to criticizing the White House, the general’s policy is ‘just ask, and I’ll tell.’” –Jimmy Fallon

“President Obama is being criticized now. Here’s the problem. The British Petroleum guy, Tony Hayward, was on his yacht recently. Everybody thought, whoa, this idiot. I mean, the Gulf of Mexico is turning to asphalt and the British Petroleum guy is relaxing on his yacht. When he heard about that, President Obama was so angry, he missed a putt. Now, in Obama’s defense, people are saying, ‘Wait a minute, the president has always had his own particular way of relaxing.’ For example, George W. Bush had his way of relaxing. He was president. That’s how he relaxed.” –David Letterman David Letterman’s “Top Ten Ways Tony Hayward Can Improve His Image” 8. Reveal secret behind his soft and lustrous curly hair 6. Shoot new BP commercial where he is viciously pecked by angry pelicans 4. Get a job at Poland Spring; accidentally dump a billion gallons of water into the gulf

“While testifying before Congress yesterday, BP CEO Tony Hayward called the oil spill a ‘complex accident caused by an unprecedented combination of failures.’ Then he realized he was reading notes left on the stand by a Goldman Sachs executive.” –Jimmy Fallon “Congressmen have been saying from the beginning that BP is either lying or grossly incompetent. Well, why can’t we have both?” –David Letterman “Sarah Palin has revealed she has tried marijuana, but she did not like it. You know, it’s amazing: 200 million Americans have smoked marijuana. The only ones who don’t like it seem to be elected officials. Ever notice that?” –Jay Leno

“Looks like this Gore divorce could end up being pretty costly. In fact, Al Gore now talking about only trying to save half the planet.” –Jay Leno “Yesterday, Fed Chairman Ben Bernanke said the economy appears to be on track to continue to expand through this year and next. And then he said, ‘And you can take that to one of the remaining banks.’” –Jimmy Fallon “A great day for President Obama. He addressed a group of senior citizens in Maryland today. He’s pitching his health care bill. According to a poll, half the seniors thought the president was convincing, 30 percent thought he was unconvincing, and the rest thought he was Will Smith.” –Craig Ferguson

So that’s our last posting for June 2010. And congratulations go out to my parents, who last Friday celebrated their 60th wedding anniversary with a lovely lunch at Risorante Italiano, which offers award-winning Italian fare in a casual and festive atmosphere. Not counting leap years, that’s 21,900 days, or 525,600 hours of marital bliss. In a word, unbelievable! And they said it would never last a half century.

Went with Jason and my financial advisor/ minor league scout friend Bruce and his son to the Oakland Coliseum Saturday night to see the A’s in action. It was 70’s Retro Night, and Bruce must have some pictures of owner Lewis Wolff because we had front rows seats behind the A’s dugout. It’s tremendous seeing the ballplayers up close and personal as the head into the dugout, while everyone in the park is sitting behind you. And remember, a walk is as good as a hit and tie goes to the umpire.

So enjoy the remaining days of June and get ready for the July 4th weekend. And if you’re in the mood, tell someone today you love them. We’ll catch you down the right field line. Aloha, mahalo and later, Trevor Cahill fans.