About
Why “Owl Works”?
An admiration for Kelly Johnson and all he accomplished at the Lockheed “Skunk Works” combined with a psycho-Newtonian reaction to an informal lecture series on conspiracies by the good fellow down the hall from my lair. The first I attribute to a father who once worked as a flight control engineer at the home of the P-51 Mustang, North American Aviation; the later to an ornery spirit inherited from a long line of tree climbers and rock throwers, which spawned a rather tempestuous relationship with rules, regulations, conventional wisdom and “The Establishment” (who or what ever it might be at the moment). Thanks to my father, I possess an FAA Certified Flight Instructor Certificate. Physical, emotional and psychological scars attest to the orneriness.
Being ”just too darn loud” for the music conservatory, I majored in Philosophy and English, ending up with more harebrained ideas than Wile E. Coyote and at least half a dozen manuscripts in varying states of completion and decay. Years of pushing air in gin joints and a stint as a recording engineer enabled me to ex-Spector-ate (as in Phil) a CD, with another in the works. I was indentured to “Ma” Bell for a couple of years before escaping to toil as not even a cog — more like a smear of grease — in the Military-Industrial Complex peddling electromechanical widgets.
As the desk drawer full of unswallowed methylphenidate screams, this probably ain’t the best place to come looking for a laser-like focus. Really no telling what will show up in this notebook. And a heads up for anyone with an OCD about the time-space continuum: it’s probably going to be a Billy Pilgrim kind of journey. I’m just hoping for a more peaceful ending.
So it goes . . .
MTB
