PHoPA Newsletter Oct 2015 - Parrotheads of Port Aransas

ISLAND POOP
October 2015
AVAST ME ARTIES! ARR YE REDY?
PIRATES IN PHLIP PHLOPS
WINGS OVER PORT ARANSAS 2015
FRIDAY OCTOBER 9
Dolphin Sunset Cruise boarding Behind Woody’s 515 PM
Departs promptly at 530 PM
Return to Shore at 730 PM
BYOB + Water, Soda & Snacks provided by PHoPA
Beach Baked Potato Bar 6 PM
BYOB Beach Bonfire 8 PM
SATURDAY OCTOBER 10
Morning Turtle Release Time TBA
Join your friends for a phun time on the
Pirate Ship Pub Crawl 1 PM
Annual PHoPA Party with a Purpose
Port A Civic Center
BYOB Cocktail Hour 6 PM
Dinner & Auction to follow
Dancing to the Trop-Rock of The Bad Monkeys
DENO’S DIALOGUE
An excerpt from a previous edition of the CTXPHC newsletter.
This is some great reading!
Deno "Moon Dog"
So what is a parrothead? First and most obviously, to an outsider looking in, a parrothead
is a fan of Jimmy Buffett who dresses like cheesy Hawaiian tourists and drinks too much.
Well, that is just not a fair characterization. Not completely anyway. What they do not
understand is that while Jimmy Buffett is the focal point of the parrothead nation, he
actually is a small part of a much bigger picture. What they do not understand is that
parrotheads lead normal lives. Odds are that you would not know a parrothead if you
walked up to him or her on the street. Parrotheads cross a wide section of society. We are
doctors and teachers, stay at home moms and airline pilots, chefs and computer geeks. We
are kids and parents and grandparents. We are blue collar, white collar, button down collar
and no collar tank tops. But most of all, we are tens of thousands of people
all over the world linked by a few common threads.
The love of a tropical lifestyle and all that comes with it. And while very few of us actually
get to live this lifestyle, we escape to it when we can and live there in our minds the rest of
the time. The lakes and oceans. The sun and skies. The palm trees and beach umbrellas and
breezes and sunsets. The bathing suits and flip flops and sarongs and sails and snorkels.
Makes me wonder why Gilligan and the crew ever wanted to get rescued. The professor was
the wise one. He could make a two way radio out of a coconut shell but he could not fix a
hole in a boat? Yeah….right. He knew what he was doing.
The love of community. Almost every parrothead I know would do anything they could
for anybody else, be it friend or stranger. They are always eager and extra willing to give
back to their surroundings. From their back yard to beyond borders and areas they will
never see. They spend thousands upon thousands of hours and raise millions of dollars each
and every year trying to leave their neighborhood and their world a better place.
And they do it one hour and one dollar at a time.
Continue on to the next page
Then we have the music. The wonderful music that parrotheads are drawn to. From
Jimmy Buffett and the Coral Reefers to all the musicians and bands that were ever
influenced by the tropical and coastal sounds of the Caribbean, calypso, and reggae. Or the
early sounds of southern folk and gospel that span the length of the gulf coast. Or the
incredible sounds of the zydeco, jazz, and rhythm and blues that are unique to New
Orleans and the rest of the bayou country and Mississippi delta. Sometimes it has you
shaking your every body part in some kind of unrecognizable dance motions. Other times
it simply has you closing your eyes and drifting off. But the music makes it happen.
And without it, nothing else would matter.
But most important, it has been my personal experience that a true parrothead is just a
plain ol’ good and simple person who never really grew up. It is said that you are as young
as you feel. A parrothead knows that better than anybody else. I have always thought that
the great Joe Walsh said it best when he said ...”Start in the morning and get the job done,
take care of business then have some fun.” Like I said earlier, most would not know a
parrothead on the street. We work hard, we take care of our families, and we fulfill our
responsibilities and obligations to society. But when it comes time to cut
loose….well…..the rest is history. A parrothead is not afraid to dress crazy, act crazy, and
just be crazy and let it all hang out. Even if it is only for a short time. Why? Because a
parrothead’s inner child never grows up. That is the cornerstone and the foundation.
And that is where it all starts.
By Doug Hall, “Cabbana Daddy”
former VP of CTXPHC
PORT A PETE’S PHUNTASTIC PHEATURES
Lines n Lyrics
Can you name this Jimmy Buffet tune from one line or lyric in the song ?
“While the lights of St. Thomas lie twenty miles west
I see General Electric's still doing their best.”
Answer on The Back Page
I HEARD IT ON THE COCONUT TELEGRAPH
Heard Port A is going to name a stretch of the beach for our own
ARK Angel Tony Amos !
A well deserved tribute to a local champion for nature !
Looks like the September
Happy Hour at Moby Dick’s
was a phlocking good time !
Loyal to rum !
Thanks phor the pic
Diana Fabrie.
ISLAND POOP PHEATURES
Have an idea for a pheature, phun phact, lyric, photo, etc. phor the Island Poop ?
It’s your newsletter so please pheel phree to share any and all ideas to:
[email protected]
We would love to hear phrom all of our Parrot Head Phriends !
Inspired by Naked Came the Sharks by Jed Donellie and Devorah Fox
A WHALE OF A TAIL
© Copyright 2015 by Orville Ballard and Devorah Fox
In previous episodes, Cheri Bradshaw, a student at the Intracoastal Marine Institute in Turtle Point,
has been helping with a team excavating the skeleton of a whale buried in the dunes and has
uncovered a human skull. Cheri, fellow student Corny, freelance journalist Tool, local law
enforcement, and the director of the IMI all want to know to whom did the skull belong and
how did it end up buried on the beach.
Ranger Marcos Cano navigated along the loose sand down the beach to
investigate a very strange call that had been made to the ranger station.
Two fishermen calling from the beach claimed that they had been on their
way south to camp for the night and fish. Knowing it to be virtually
impossible to get a cell phone signal that far from town, Marcos was tempted
to discount it as a crank call. But the fishermen explained that being
experienced and frequent travelers down island they had invested in a satellite phone
so were able to make calls from anywhere on the island. They described that just
before sundown they had come upon a middle aged couple in the water near to shore.
It appeared that one or the other was giving the other mouth to mouth resuscitation so
the fishermen stopped and asked the couple if they were okay. The couple would not
come out of the water but kept yelling something about a turtle and asked the
fishermen to call the ranger station.
The approach of darkness made the driving even more hazardous. Marcos negotiated
a particularly treacherous spot of beach while dodging the trunk of a large tree that
had washed in from the Gulf. His radio screeched with an incoming call. Hoping that
the call was from his office telling him that he could head back, that the call from the
fishermen had indeed been a hoax, he picked up his mike and clicked
to answer. “Marcos here. What’s up?”
“Hey Marcos, are you still stuffing animals or are you just stuffing your
gut like always?” It was his old pal Cindy whom people locally referred
to as the “Girl Game Warden.”
“I’ll just let that slide, Cindy. Are you still running around harassing the
tourists making sure that the fish they catch aren’t a quarter inch too
short so you can write them up and ruin their vacation?”
Even over the radio Marcos could hear Cindy’s exasperation.
“Anyway, they are stealing a public resource if they keep fish that are too small,”
she said.
“Look, I’ve tried to get you to apply for a federal job. While we
do the real conservation work you run around in your green
truck chasing tourists in golf carts on a part of the beach that
has already been ruined by developers.”
“Okay, Marcos, we can debate that some other time. Right now I need your help in
something much more important. We need to switch channels on the radio or wait
until we are in cell phone range. Can’t chance anyone listening in on a scanner.”
“Okay, you know the channel we use when working with Homeland Security?
That’s about a safe as we can get.”
“Roger that,” Cindy answered, “going there now.” After both had made the switch,
Cindy resumed, “Remember our old classmate Windy?”
“Oh, yeah, Windy, how could I forget him? He thought he could work with the system
to get the developers to be proactive in protecting what little there is left to protect
around Turtle Point. Dream on, Windy. He doesn’t understand that the only reason the
developers even pretend to listen to him is because the City Council’s Planning and
Zoning Board won’t issue permits to anyone who doesn’t have
an environmental engineer on staff.”
“You and I understand that but Windy always was an idealist. Now, thought, I think he
may finally be seeing the truth. The developers he has been working with
tried to kill him.”
Marcos slowed. “Kill him! Be serious. No one would go that far.”
“I am serious.”
“Wow, I guess you are. That explains all this radio channel cha-cha-cha.” Marcos
came to a stop. Cindy’s crazy story required his full attention. “Has this been reported
to the local law enforcement, that constable what’s his name, Bait
Breath?”
“Nope. We don’t trust him. We think he may be on the take from the
developers and he is drunk most of the time anyway.”
“What about, uh, Lefty? You know, the guy that runs that bar down on
the waterfront? Let’s see, what’s it called?
Oh, I remember: Lefty’s.”
“Aw, just trying to throw a little humor your way. You sound like you need it.”
“Well, I thought we might ask his help but when I went in there yesterday I
overheard him talking to one of the guys who tried to kill Windy. They were
talking about not being sure that Windy was dead until they had a body.”
“You are serious. All right Cindy, you know I’d do anything on earth to help
you but why’d you ask me if I was still stuffing animals?”
“Well, Windy and I think that the best way to get the bad guys to let their guard down
will be to make them they think they succeeded in killing him.”
“I still don’t see what that has to do with stuffing animals,” responded Marcos
“Well, I was just thinking that maybe with your skills at making lifelike mounts of
animals you might be able to work up something that would convince them that Windy
was dead. You know it wouldn’t even have to look anything like him. They think he
drowned. So they’ll be looking for a body to drift onto the beach. We both know what
condition a body that’s been floating out there for more than a day is going to be in.
It’ll just have to have something that connects it to Windy and we have some ideas.”
Marcos put the truck in gear and carefully steered through deep sand. “Look, right
now I am on my way down the beach to meet a couple who may be in trouble. They’re
playing in the surf naked and yelling something about turtles. They’re probably just
drunk but I have to go check it out. It shouldn’t take me more than another thirty
minutes to reach the coordinates of the site where the fishermen reported the couple
talking about turtles. After that where can we meet up?”
“Windy has some injuries and I have been keeping him hidden in the old turtle shack.
Can we meet there?” Cindy answered.
“That’ll be perfect,” Marcos answered. He already had an idea about how to solve
Cindy’s problem. His mind raced faster than the truck which wasn’t much a challenge.
The loose sand kept him moving at a turtle’s pace. “And Cindy, I think you are going to
be surprised at what I’m going to be able to do for you.”
What
have in
again in
the story
could Marcos
mind? Tune in
November as
continues.
The Bad Monkeys
Party Band
Nominated Vocal Group of the Year by Texas Academy of Music.
We are a Trop-Rock (Buffett) , Cajun, Texas Cover/Original music band
located in the Dallas Area.
We are 6 piece: Keys, Bass, Acoustic Guitar, Electric Guitar, Drums and a
female vocalist but we sound like a full 7 piece band.
Kelly Brown - Guitar
Randy Brooks - Bass Guitar
Louie Chambers - Keyboards
Sharon Oefinger - Vocals
Zach Rhodes - Drums
Phil Keese - Lead Guitar
The Bad Monkeys have performed throughout the DFW area, Galveston,
Oklahoma City, Myrtle Beach, North Carolina, Jackson, Mississippi, Phoenix, Arizona and New Orleans, Louisiana over the past five years at bars,
parties, corporate gatherings and weddings and did the Jimmy Buffett
Click the logo to visit their website
Click the pic to listen
Head Phlocker — Deno Fabrie
Veepoda Phlock — Randy Hansen
Chief Squawker — Sharon Stricker
Keeper o’da Phunds — Maggie Evans
Da Sarge — Bill Thomas
Public Squawker—Diana Fabrie
Keeper o’da Scrapbook — Brenda Porter
Phounder o’da Phlock—Lu Ann Ferguson
THE BACK PAGE
October 2015 Trips Around The Sun
Linda Banuelos
John Miller
Gary Grauerholz
Peach Daniels
Denise Keller
Doug Rogillio
Diana Fabrie
Harold Gage
Glenn Vondra
Judy Worsham
Carolyn McCabe
Carolyn White
10/4
10/5
10/8
10/14
10/16
10/18
10/19
10/19
10/20
10/21
10/26
10/31
Lines n Lyrics
Manana
Son Of A Son Of A Sailor
1978
Click the sailboat to listen !
Manana
She said I can't go back to America soon
So goddamn cold it's gonna snow until June
Yeah, they're freezin' up in Buffalo stuck in their cars
And I'm lyin' here 'neath the sun and the stars.
Customs man tells her that she's gotta leave
She's got a plan hidden up her shrewd sleeve
Wants to find her a captain, a man of strong mind
And any direction he blows will be fine.
Please don't say manana if you don't mean it
I have heard those words for so very long
Don't try to describe the ocean if you've never seen it
Don't ever forget that you just may wind up being wrong.
Tried and I tried but I don't understand
Never seems to work out the way I had it planned
Hanging out at a marina when Steve Martin called
Singin' anybody there really want to get small.
But women and water are in short supply
Not enough dope for us all to get high
I hear it gets better, that's what they say
As soon as we sail on to Cane Garden Bay.
Please don't say manana if you don't mean it
I have heard your lines for so very long
Don't try to describe the scenery if you've never seen it
Don't ever forget that you just may wind up in my song.
All right, let’s reggae reefers !
Called all my friends on those cheap nightly rates
Sure was good to talk to the old United States
While the lights of St. Thomas lie twenty miles west
I see General Electric's still doing their best.
I've got to head this boat south pretty soon
New album's old and I'm fresh out of tunes
But I know that I'll get 'em, I know that they'll come
Through the people and places at Caldawood's Run.
So please don't say manana if you don't mean it,
if you don’t mean it
I have done your lines for so very long
Don't try to describe a Kiss concert if you've never seen it
Don't ever forget that you just may wind up being gone
And I hope Anita Bryant never ever does one of my songs.
Click the Ribbon to learn more.
No, no, no.
October 2015
Sun
Mon
Tue
Wed
Thu
1
4
6
5
7
Fri
2
8
Nice Day
3
Wings Over
Port A
Pirates In
Phlip Phlops
Island Hotel
Phlocking
630p
Do Something
Sat
Get Your
Goody Bag
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
30
31
Moby Dick’s
Phlocking
6ish
Wings Check
Presentations
25
26
27
28
Moonfire
BM25
29
Beach Lodge
Phlocking
6ish