“He is the very model of a modern Major-General,
With information vegetable, animal and mineral.”
Did I ever tell you about my old pal, Chuck Lemasters? Well, I should have. Chuck worked at the Subterranean Circus back in the early 1970s, also attended the University of Florida, eventually majoring in Art. Chuck was and is a painter, a sculptor and, lately, a photographer of some merit. If you were to, say, ask Lemasters in his prime to whip you up a duplicate of the Metropolitan Museum of Art and everything in it, he would sigh, give you a sad look and say something like, “Okay, but it’ll take me a couple of weeks.” In those days, Chuck had what we would call “an artistic temperament,” which meant he was often moody and got pissed off a lot, but he was a cutie and the girlies hung around. Eschewing all that, Chuck lived for a good while in rural Micanopy with a tough, long-suffering woman named Jerry Juris and her brilliant daughter, Stacey, who had been placed on Earth by Martians to keep a wary eye on the citizens thereof lest they carelessly blow up the universe. Since nothing untoward happened, I guess Stacey did a good job. But I digress.
These days, Chuck resides in suburban Jonestown, Florida, just outside Gainesville, where he presides over an internet cult of 100—if I’m still allowed to use “Jonestown” and “cult” in the same sentence—called The Infinitesimal Phantasmagorical, Lemasters being a big fan of multisyllabic words, particularly the novel six-syllable variety. Personally, Chuck is primarily devoted to four things in life: his dog of the moment, getting Bernie Sanders elected President, the legalization of marijuana and the Florida Gators sports empire, not necessarily in that order. Professionally, as Grand Pontiff of the Phantasmagoricals, he sees his duty as alerting all citizens to the earthly dangers afoot, particularly those emanating from the far reaches of the cosmos. If there is an asteroid hell-bent in our direction, Chuck knows about it. If something resembling the face of Mickey Rooney suddenly appears on the rocky surface of Mars, he’s onto that, too. If he gets wind of the possibility that Space Spiders from the planet Zevon are rocketing our way, well, Lemasters will be out in the garage brewing up a large pot of spidercide. Suffice to say nobody is pulling the wool over Chuck’s eyes.
It was not particularly remarkable then that yesterday’s alert from Jonesville contained news of a Russian plan to create a massive superhighway between London and New York. Yes, I know what you’re thinking: oh, you old sillies—nobody can build a highway across the feakin’ Atlantic Ocean. And, of course, you are 100% correct. But, no, uh uh, they’re not talking about that. They’re talking about going the other way.
Hey, guys—how far to McDonald’s?
The Other Way
Okay, get this. The Trans-Eurasian Belt Development (TEPR), a project proposed by Russian Railways honcho Vladimir Yakunin, would originate in London, proceed to Moscow, then extend over the barren, frigid plains of eastern Russia to Nome and Fairbanks, Alaska, down through Canada and eventually to New York. Wow! Is this the ultimate Road Trip, or what? Where are the Beach Boys, we need a song. In case you’re wondering, and I know you are, that’s 12,910 icy miles. At 70 miles an hour, no stopping, you could pull it off in under 185 hours, just a little over a week. With a dearth of donut shops for hundreds of miles, there would be no highway patrolmen to worry about. I have a hunch people might be traveling in excess of 70 miles per hour, particularly frustrated Europeans who can’t drive their high performance automobiles more than twenty mph through those tiny streets in Reutlingen. The highway would, of course, have to be dotted with tiny coffee kiosks every few miles to keep sleepy travelers from crashing into the roadside snowbanks. Has anybody talked to Burger King? Has Motel 6 been alerted? Adequate preparations must be made.
I haven’t spoken to Vladimir about this but who gets the eastern Russia miniature golf franchise? Can we even get satellite radio out there? What about scenic vista pull-offs for the Northern Lights at Fairbanks? How fast does a pokey truck have to go to outrun the Canadian Mounties? The TEPR obviously needs a highway czar to determine these serious matters. I nominate Chris Christie, who probably won’t be busy too much longer.
The route of the new expressway would include some pre-existing roads but would still require thousands of miles of new tarmac across the width of Russia, and a girthy old girl is she. This section of road would be laid alongside the existing Trans-Siberian Railway, which, we are assured by Mr. Yakunin, will almost never cross the highway, thus preventing those ugly wrecks which often turn up in less-well-planned areas. And a good thing, too, since the nearest hospital might be nine hundred miles away. Can you imagine the ambulance arriving (after thirteen hours of travel) and the auto driver responding, “No, I’m just fine, but thanks for your trouble.” That’s why people drink in Russia.
Aside from all the problems the length of the highway creates, there is also the question of funding. The TEPR will undoubtedly cost trillions of dollars. Russian President Vladimir Putin is apparently a close friend of Yakunin but the country is no longer swimming in oil money. Maybe they can get the big petroleum companies to chip in, gas stations to the highest bidder. Or wrangle a little support from the International Union of Truck Stop Hookers. A little imagination will be required. But big dreams require big investments. Alas, those of us on the shady side of 70 may not be around for the culmination of this ambitious colossus, but a few of you will be. We’ll be thinking of you as you navigate your chilly way through the Russian Steppes, as you battle mind-numbing boredom in the snows of Fairbanks, as you descend wearily through the bleak Canadian North. Yes, indeed, we’ll be thinking of you. But not much.
The Marble Hill Almost Nuclear Power Plant
The Best Laid Plans….
One big problem with the above scenario, of course, is that we’re dealing with Russia here. You never know from one day to the next what’s going on over there. Vladimir Putin could suddenly decide to become a mixed martial arts performer, slip off to Bulgaria and the whole deal is in the toilet. It’s happened before. Someone launches a huge project, millions of dollars are spent, it’s too big to fail. Then, one snafu after another arises, the plan is put on hold, adjustments are made, new supervisors are enlisted, more money is spent, but pffft!—the project never gets finished.
In the 1940s, Henry Standing Bear, an elder of the Lakota nation, took a look at the four presidential faces on Mount Rushmore, grunted a surly “hmmph,” and decided the famous Oglala Lakota warrior Crazy Horse needed a memorial of his own. He enlisted a sculptor named Korczak Ziolkowski to build it on privately held land in the Black Hills of South Dakota….ironically, in Custer County, named for the U.S. Cavalry general demolished by Crazy Horse in the battle of Little Big Horn in 1876. Construction began on June 3, 1948. The objective was to portray the warrior on horseback pointing forward to a place in the distance. Ziolkowski started the sculpture at age 40 and worked on it until he died at 82, fighting off injuries, financial difficulties and racial prejudice. The federal government reportedly offered $10 million for the project on two occasions but was turned down. After Ziolkowski died, his widow, Ruth, took over the project with the support of her daughter, Monique, also a sculptor. Work continues today. They’ve finally finished up with Crazy Horse but they’re still working on his pony. Stay tuned.
If you think they’re dilly-dallying with Crazy Horse, how about La Sagrada Familia, in Barcelona? That thing’s been in the works for more than a century. Eight of the basilica’s towers were completed in 2011, a little pokey considering the project began in 1882, with the famed architect Antoni Gaudi taking over a year later. Gaudi died in 1926 with less than a quarter of the church completed and silly things like the Spanish Civil War intruded. They picked things back up in the 1950s and the anticipated completion date is now 2026. Don’t bet on it.
The interestingly-named Super Power Building in Clearwater is well-known to many of us Floridians. The SPB is to the Church of Scientology what the Vatican is to Catholicism. Work began in 1999 and was estimated to be a two-year proposition, costing $40 million. In 2003, work was abandoned for six years to allow those confused Scientologists to re-plan the entire interior and drum up more donations. Forty million, after all, is not chump change even for John Travolta. Work commenced again in 2009 but the building has yet to open. In 2013, a couple of disappointed investors named Luis and Rocio Garcia filed a lawsuit against the church for wasting their money. They’re calling Tom Cruise for a loan but he keeps changing his cell number.
You probably think the International Space Station is finished. You are wrong. To be fair, the ISS is in a state of “perpetual construction” and although the station was supposed to be completed by 2005, changes in technology and science never gave it a chance. Several new components are scheduled to be attached over the next couple of years and construction has been deemed “nearly halfway” finished, whatever that means.
Although most of the aforementioned projects are considered unfinished, they are still functional or hold some promise of usefulness. Not so with the notorious Marble Hill Nuclear Power Plant in Indiana, a total dud, and an expensive one at that, costing in the neighborhood of $2.5 billion smackers. Yes, that’s “billion,” with a “b.” What happened? Well, despite the 2.5, the company behind the project was only about halfway finished and couldn’t afford to continue. They just up and abandoned the thing. It’s been sitting out there ever since, lonely and forlorn. The owners have a new plan, however. They’re getting ready to demolish it. If I’m an investor, could I please speak for just a tiny second to whoever is in charge?
The New South China Mall in Guangdong Province opened in 2005. Well, sorta. The place features FIVE MILLION square feet of shopping area and can accommodate—are you ready?—2350 stores! It’s twice the size of the giant Mall of America in Minnesota, the largest shopping center in the United States. Just one small problem. Nobody showed up to sell. It’s like Zombieland, with a smattering of dubious shoppers prowling through the dusty corridors and past escalators covered in soiled sheets. The mall’s indoor amusement park staff lays half asleep over counters, while the 1814 foot roller coaster roars above. Mostly empty.
Even Cincinnatians probably don”t know this, but their city almost had underground mass transit. No, really. From 1825 to 1920, the Miami and Erie Canal divided C’town’s residential neighborhood, Over-the-Rhine, from the downtown business district. The canal was used to transport goods and people from the Great Lakes to the Ohio River and subsequently the Mississippi River via Cincinnati until the popularity of railroads caused its demise. The canal became unprofitable by 1856 and was abandoned by the city in 1877. On September 27, 1884, a weekly local magazine called The Graphic proposed that the “dead old ditch” be used to provide an unobstructed route for the Cincinnati Subway. The city hired experts who had worked on the Boston and Chicago rapid transit systems to research the best possible implementation for the local system, which was to be financed by a six million dollar bond issue approved by citizens in a plebiscite on April 17, 1917. Unfortunately, at approximately the same time, the United States entered World War I and no capital issues of bonds were permitted during the war. Roseanne Roseannadanna was called in and gave everyone the bad news: “Never mind,” she sadly said.
Just another Saturday night at the New South China Mall
That’s all, folks….
