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Gold/Mining/Energy : At a bottom now for gold? -- Ignore unavailable to you. Want to Upgrade?

To: Alan Whirlwind who wrote (1443)	7/16/1998 8:20:00 AM
From: Vieserre	Read Replies (1) \| Respond to of 1911

Alan, Well Done :) :) I see you do indeed have a propensity to revel in catastrophies. :)

To: Alan Whirlwind who wrote (1443)	7/22/1998 10:18:00 PM
From: Alan Whirlwind	Read Replies (4) \| Respond to of 1911

Pinky's Tailing Box: a weekly Wednesday feature of At a Bottom Now for Gold... Special Travel Edition...(PART I) My favorite mode of travel? Greyhound. Sure, planes are faster, but for shear indignity, you can't beat flying. Let me ask a simple question. Does Greyhound go rummaging through every carry-on bag for knives, guns, uranium, or guided missile parts? Do they care if you take on board keys, coins, metal framed glasses, or fig Newtons? Yes--I had a bag searched for plastic explosives at the Central Wisconsin Airport and the offending object was a package of fig bars. Once, returning from Central America, in order to gain access to my connecting flight I had rendered onto the check-in Caesars at the Miami International Airport everything metal on me except my dental implants and an alarm clock still nestled hidden in its remote pocket enclave. "Hey you! Stop!" I was addressed like some cheap hood trying to make off with a penny-ante pile of Zappa warrants. I froze, but the shouting continued until I petitioned the madam exchequer of the metal detector what it was exactly that I supposed do once stopped. She scowled when at length I turned over the alarm clock. I did not learn my lesson about bringing on board such behemoth substitutes for traditionally bantam articles of travel and found myself some months later attempting to exit the Tel Aviv/Jerusalem airport with a foot long and more radio casette player. Actually, the trouble started when I presented my passport to the Ben-Gurion Border Control. Since my only previous foreign travel experience had been in Central and South America, I had taken the liberty of procuring travel visas to enter adjacent Middle Eastern countries as I had done before when planning the negotiation of Latin locales. The border control officer was some dark haired dame (as far as I'm concerned women make the most intimidating customs personnel). She listlessly picked up my passport and began browsing first former travel habits and then the newer visas. "Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan," read one stamp. "Embassy of the Syrian Republic," read a second. The officer looked up with a glare that suggested I'd just dumped her to run away with her roommate. "The Syrians are our enemies!" she declared. I was clueless. Hadn't they sent troops to support Desert Storm? "I want to know everyplace you have stayed in Israel since your arrival," she barked. "Well, the first night I stayed at a youth hostel in Haifa...here's the receipt they gave me," I replied. "How did you know about this hostel?" she asked. "The tour guide told me," I said, beginning to mix up in my mind hostel with hostile. "Who is this guide? I want his name!" she said. "The tour guide of Israel from the Wausau Public Library that I photocopied pages out of," I answered. "You will come with me," she said. I was obviously too clever of a terrorist for her level of expertise. I was taken to a waiting area in the back and turned over to another female officer. She was younger and prettier, but twice as vicious. "You will tell me every place you have travelled in Israel since your arrival," she said as she began taking apart my luggage piece by piece, examining even my dirty socks as if potentially lethal weapons, (which perhaps they were). I managed some sort of reply about sightseeing I'd done, but was soon interrupted. "You have been in Israel for a week, yet you have only one small bag. I find this unusual, don't you? Where is your other luggage?" she asked. "I don't have any. I travel light. Check it out--there's two changes of clothes there," I said. "To me that still is not enough," she said with an air of impatience. "I washed my dirty clothes by hand in the hotel I was staying in," I said. "Why did you take this radio along with you?" she asked. I was unnerved by the question. Indeed, I wasn't so unnerved since I was hand frisked by a pistol toting PM at the Bogota International Airport while a soldier stood by cautiously training a submachinegun on me. It was a radio casette player I'd picked up in Guatemala City during the Persian Gulf War for the sole reason that it also had shortwave feature on it so I could access the Voice of America. I brought it along to record a little local music but now realized I was attempting to leave Israel with a shortwave radio in my possession. Fortunately the "SW" label on the shortwave switch was too worn to be read. "To listen to music and catch the weather," I said. "Why did you bring such a big radio? Why didn't you bring a Walkman?" she asked. I was getting the impression I was leaving the Iron Curtain rather than the Holy Land. "Because I don't have a Walkman!" I shouted. This seemed to have the effect of swaying her to the notion that perhaps I was nothing more than a disgruntled tourist. "It will be necessary to dismantle your radio," she informed me and directed a second officer, who was unravelling all of my carefully wrapped sounenirs, to take the radio to the shop to open it up as well. I was taken to a small cubicle and hand searched by a male attendant who apologized for having to do it. Then I was returned to my nightmare. "Will I get my radio back?" I asked. "What makes you think you wouldn't get your radio back?" she replied. I didn't bother to ask her if she'd ever been in a third world country. "You are free to go--an attendant will escort you to your flight shortly," she said. I was handed a ballpoint pen with the Ben Gurion Border Control insignia emblazened on it and a little card that read: Israel Airports Authority Dear passenger, We apologize for any inconvenience that may have been caused to you during the procedure. We wish you a pleasant flight and hope to welcome you to Israel again. With Best Regards, Ben-Gurion International airport Office of the Airport Director On the plane I noticed a well dressed businesswoman occupying the seat in front of me and writing a note with the same pen as mine. Funny, she didn't look the terrorist type. Colombia! (PART II) coming soon. $$$$$$$ From the Tailing Box... Dear At a Bottom Now for Gold: Silver closed up 12 cents today, breaking through key resistance. Comments? --Signed Hopeful Dear Hopeful: But it didn't break through the key resistance of me not buying anymore penny mining stock. --Whirlwind Dear Pinkey's Tailing Box: I heard that for a year the Zapatista National Liberation Army has controled the mountains of southeastern Mexico, a good part of the country. What effects do you see on the Mexican economy? --Bonita Dear Bonita: For a year Zappa's common stock has controled a good part of my portfolio and mountains of my cash, liberating me of substantial economic gains. --Whirlwind Have a question about the PMs? Ask the Whirlwind! whirlwindbuyszappa@mindless.com