So 'Everyman' has picked a running mate. This twits answer to our supposed impending national bankruptcy is to cut medicare and other social services. He is hailed as genius by the right. He knows about economics. He knows more about it than economist do. He's to be 'Everymans' connection to the 'common man'.
   So the GOP puts a guy that makes 20 million dollars a year up as presidential candidate because he knows what America needs to recover from being raped by the rich.Then they give him a lap dog that presents a budget that can only further depress our nations economy.
    Before the 'Bush Tax Cuts' for the rich we were doing very well. Had a surplus in fact. So the Repubs are convinced that more of the same is the way to go. Insanity: Doing the same thing over & over expecting different results. I don't believe that the Repubs are insane. I think they're happy with the same results. The rich get richer.
    Where is all the money that the one percent own? If it was here in the U.S. maybe it would be generating some jobs here. But it's not. It's in other countries where it can't be taxed.
    My deluded right leaning friends find nothing wrong with that. They are outraged that a poor child is being fed with public money but feeding lobsters & caviar to billionaires with public money is OK.
   The only thing I find promising is that there are 48 million people on medicare and at least that many close to needing it that could be a major voting block against them.

This SUCKS!!

Came to post one rant but after finally finding out how all I want to say is this new sh*t just plain ole SUCKS!!!

Bring on the Clowns!!

I have found, over the last few months, this constant presence of the Republican battle to see who gets to lose to Obama next November just damn irritating. But then I got to thinking about that old list of things in my life that I have no control over and the mere 5%, that is my attitude, that I do control.
So folks I’ve decided to find the whole shebang as high comedy. Last night instead of being all pissed off and upset Clowns entertained me. One, a man of proven failed leadership that seems to think with his little brain as much as his cranial, wants me to take his ‘word’ that he would make a better leader than ‘Everyman’. Everyman, whose income, income not worth, was 20 million last year wants me to think he knows my situation but can’t seem to fix his own stand on any issue longer than a wind blowing from a new direction. ‘Little Ricky’ stands and smirks, all pious and pompous, keeping his mouth shut lest they drag his lobbying besmirched linen on stage. And of course there’s the good Dr that won’t renounce his past or entertain the thought that his ‘Neverland’ future might need slight revision.
After sitting through as much of this sidesplitting hilarity as I could stand I turned of the tube, poured myself a double shot of Jack (wine wouldn’t do) and listened to my old copy of ‘The Firesign Theater – We’re All Bozo’s On This Bus” there were amazing similarities ;~)

WTF!!!

Do I start this rant as a question or a demand or a cry for help? When I was most active politically, was it so long ago?, there was the chance, the promise of better things to come. I believed that our country, our world would be more homogeneous, capable of caring for the needs of the citizens of this planet.
Wow! Did I have it wrong or what!? We, Americans, are so fractured in our wants, beliefs and goals that it's hard to say 'Americans' and mean all the citizens of this country. The world economy is so desperate that it is relying on China to finance it, and they're still Communist.

Happy ?? Birthday? If you insist.

    With just 11 days before my 60th Birthday thought I’d take stock. OMG was I out of my freekin mind? Looking in the mirror was the first mistake. Taking stock of the physical frailties was a disaster & then looking in the financial folio, better known as the checkbook was as depressing.

    There were several things I always said I’d attend to as I aged, cropping the forest that seems to appear in the ears of older men was one and I must say that I’ve been as diligent as other failings have allowed. I refer to my inability to focus on objects closer than arms length which makes seeing hairs in ones ears reflected in the mirror while side viewing through +2.50 strength readers difficult and brandishing a pair of scissors to reduce the growth sometimes painfully unwise.

    What’s that you say? Speak up damn it stop mumbling! Have my barber tend to it? Well if that’s all you have to contribute I guess not hearing such inanities is worth missing a few conversations. You have looked at my pics I suppose. Wanna borrow my readers?

    Then there’s the medication I’ve been taking to help me get to this august state. The majority, cost wise, helps my breathing, and is truly a Godsend but some of it doesn’t actually benefit me in my every day and is prescribed to enhance my chances of seeing future Birthdays. Then there are some that I’m sure I take to counter the effects of some of the others. I’m sure this is part of a world wide conspiracy, one of many I’ve been able to uncover since taking some of the said medicines. No I’m not being paranoid, I take a pill for that.

    The rest of the physical frailties are just one sad TV commercial after another and beside not worth reporting are disgusting and will therefore be overlooked.

    The financial part will go without much comment. Let’s just say that before the recent downturn in the economy it looked as though I might be able to take it a little easier as I approached 64. Not a retirement but at least a little relief from the pressure, but now, as I’ve often joked in the past, when I retire I’ll just drag the other leg into the box and pull the lid down … and I’ll have to build the box.

    So I guess after such a thorough analysis I should, like those interested in the health & well being of our country (thought I wouldn’t slip in some politics? Get a Grip), I should cut and slash my budget. Having no health care I can’t slash that, no children to feed or educate I can’t slash that, I get no welfare and if I did I certainly wouldn’t slash that, if by foreign aid you mean contributions to church & charity those have already taken as much slashing as conscience allows. Which means…. MUDDLE ON!!

Vigor

    
I finished shoveling yesterday & last nights snow and ice. I stood back and marveled at my accomplishment. Puffed chest due to accomplishment yet not out of breath, tired but due to great exertion not a lack of oxygen. So I asked myself how could I report this feat to others and share this feeling of triumph? Well I’d find a quantitative measure that would readily bring to mind the immensity of the task and the truly Herculean effort. Stables had been used so I decided a measure of land, since it was terra firma that had been exposed, would suffice. I'd Bushoged Acres before and seen feilds that were described in Acres. An Acre it is.

    
So looking at it, the area exposed, I’d need a descriptive fraction because as large an area that it was it definitely was not an Acre. Half Acre? No. One sisteenth? well I don't really know what an Acre meassures. So off to Google with a shot of celebratory & medicinal whiskey I go.

    
Well this sucks!! An Acre is 43,560 square feet! The area I’d shoveled was approx 12 x 80, or 960 square feet. One forty fifth of an acre. In my defense the snow/ice was 6 to 8 inches deep but 1/45 th ? Even if I divide it by six it's only 6/45 th's. What a slacker.

    
One more shot of this medicinal shit and I’m headin back out to shovel a path to the lake by God!



    

OH Wow Man!!

Like how was my Christmas? Oh man it was like BIG man I got this M3p player thingy man like with 2 Gigs man! Like how big is that? Man uh no man like really how big IS that ? I want to know how many albums I can put on it man. I looked on all of my vinyl but none of them had any Gigs and I looked at everyone of my 500 CD’s man same result. A Gig used to be a job man but if that's what they're talking about man I've had 5 year jobs and 5 minute jobs so I'm still not sure how many albums man ya know what I mean man? I mean like I know you should keep up with current terms man but couldn't they just say "This little thingy holds 10 CD's" or "this medium thingy holds 20 CD's" or This BIG SOB holds all of your CD's". Maybe they don't know what a Gig is man... Kinda like a Bazzilion Dollars man .... just a new way to say a lot man...but why'd you want to say 2 a lot man....
My son said just put them on, he says it’ll be like my own radio station man!
Wow now there’s POWER man like a Radio Station man able to influence others …Far Out Man! But man that’s a lot of responsibility man … big load …Maybe I should be careful of content man I wouldn’t want to do any harm to the public you know …man … I’d have to be responsible to the audience man …. What son? I’m the audience? Oh! Well …uh .. more reason for caution man you should be responsible to yourself ya know? 'Cause you know a mind is a terrible thing.. uh well ... Waste is like ... So you shouldn't like .. Did I tell you I got this M3p thingy for Christmas Man?

Ah Dad, That you made my Christmas.

    Never tell me there's no Santa. I know better cause my Dad was Santa. He, & Mrs. Claus of course, saw to it that I would have so many memorable Christmases that recounting them would be difficult to keep in chronological order .... but I'll try.

    My first real memorable Christmas comes to mind because of the Big Santa present. It was blue & white and had training wheels, Ray got a Big Boy version that was blue & white also. It was a rainy Christmas day so we had to ride them under Grandads carport, not a very long ride. I was four. Much latter I learned that Dad er uh Santa had taken the bikes to the hanger on base & refurbished them so they'd be alike (I also think there might have been a blue & white tricycle for Rob but that just might be me rounding out a perfect story). Still can't figure out how they got from Jacksonville FL to Clanton AL. We were traveling in a '51 or so 2 door Chevy at the time 4 kids 6, 4, 3 and 2.

    That year we also got these wooden Bull Dogs that you could change the face on you'd lift the back where the ear, nose & mouth changes were kept.

    The next one is one Unc has already written of. Fanner Fifties! These were THE BIG items of that year. There was no better brag that year when asked at school after Christmas Break "Wadya Get?!" a Fanner Fifty! It shot real bullets! There were stick on caps for each bullet not a roll. And only one rule that I remember ... "Don't shoot Grandad!" I think this was the year Ray got a printing press & I got a typewriter and we started a News Paper. One issue, maybe 15 words. The typewriter was a bit of a pain & the press & pressman were having issues. Grandad smiled & thought it was great and that was all that mattered to us.

    There were always two Christmases. Paw Paws Christmas was always on Christmas Eve. Aunt Eve, Uncle Cliff Betty, Larry & later David always came. Aunt Katty Pat (Kathryn) Uncle Charley, Ann, Carol, Christina and later Cynthia (Cindy) came when they were stationed near (Uncle Charley was AirForce). After a MEGA Meal we got to open all the presents that were from that side of the family. Then we'd go outside & shoot off fireworks! How cool was that? Almost all of Clanton would be out shooting off fireworks. It was as big as the forth of July!

    
Then off to Mamo & Grandads. More partying! Uncle Bobby & Aunt Nell, Terry, Ben, Mark & later Tim. Aunt Carolyn, Uncle Jimmy and later Jay & Jeff.

    
To bed to wake early the next morning to the Magic that Mom & Dad er uh Santa & Mrs. Claus worked.

    
It's late & I gotta do more framing in sub freezing temps in the morning so I'm just gunna post this un finished. I'll get back to it as time allows.

Memories of Christmas

    It’s Sunday morning and I decided to treat myself to a Jimmy Dean sausage patty and scrambled eggs. As the sausage started to cook I was looking down into our living room at our Christmas tree and was suddenly awash in memories.

    That smell wafting through the room took me to my Maw Maw’s in the Mill Village. She’d wake at 4:30, had most of her life to go to work in the Mill, and start cooking breakfast. First thing on was coffee, remember the old percolators with the glass on top? Next were the butter milk biscuits, flour, buttermilk & lard hand kneaded into the melt in your mouth miracle that to this day I can’t equal. Then the sausage, a giant iron skillet packed with fat patties sizzling away, filling that little house with a ‘Come and Get it’ smell that you just couldn't’t sleep through. A dozen or so eggs scrambled and Saw Mill gravy to top it all! Yeow! Took a good hour to eat it all.

    Then Paw Paw would get out a clean plate and mix up Paw Paw’s Special Butter. Fresh churned butter that, using a fork, he blended with Ribbon Cane syrup to put on that last flaky biscuit you knew you could squeeze in.

    Now days the eggs are bad for my cholesterol so’s the sausage and the lard in the biscuits Oh My! Even though there were no preservatives in the sausage, the eggs were what they now call ‘Free Range’ and the lard hadn’t been hydrogenated.

    So I shouldn’t have eaten today's eggs or the sausage & I rarely do but it was worth that trip to the Mill Village, listening to Maw Maw softly singing her favorite hymns while she cooked for her family.

    Then there were the lights. There were quite a few in the village that participated in the Christmas Light Race but most of ‘em were just trying to keep up with my Paw Paw. Why before he was allowed to turn them on he had to give the power company a 30 minute warning so they could open another gate at Lay Dam. The race was called off by God, on December 20th 1957. A tornado ripped the roofs off of a great deal of the Mill Village, every one off Paw Paws lights along with the trees they were on, and dropped them east of 31 around the old Dan River warehouse.

All They Ever Had

I’ve been reading ‘All They Ever Had’ by Rick Bragg. It’s about Mill life in Northeastern Alabama. His descriptions of the working conditions in the Mill and the people doing the work there are dead on. I know because my people on my fathers side were Mill people and for a year I worked in the Dan River Mill in Clanton.
My great grandfather, Porter King West, lost his right hand in the Mill so did his oldest son my great uncle Raymond. Granpa lost his right hand and Raymond lost his left. One of my first memories is at age three walking up the steps to grandpas house with them sitting on the porch hook to hook. As we, my siblings & cousins, got to the top of the stairs they raised their hooks together and shook them at us. Our squeals and screams set the Aunts on them and as they tried to amend the hook looked as menacing with sweet words as it did with ARGH! I do remember giving into that old mans entreaties and sitting in his lap. I even got up the courage to touch the hook. Latter, after his death, I would cry sometimes thinking how horrible that must have been for him.
My grandfather and grandmother, Maw Maw & Paw Paw, lived in the Mill Village, one house away from the road that ran across the front of the Mill. The front of the Mill was all glass with huge tilt sections that were open most months of the year. The glass was blue & blue green and always was beauty & magic to me. The noise that came from the Mill was not the sound of metal on metal but of the constant unsynchronized movements of the looms, like the roar of a waterfall. Maw Maw was a weaver, a weaver was responsible for keeping several looms running, filling the quill feeder, restarting the loom when it tripped, retying the thread when it broke. Paw Paw was a mechanic, mechanics had to keep the looms working, replacing burnt bearings, worn drive belts.
Paw Paw was proud that his son didn’t ‘go into’ the Mill. My Dad joined the Navy to escape that life. Paw Paw warned me “Get an education boy! Never ‘go into’ the Mill.”
Well after a disastrous first year at Montevallo I needed a job and went ‘into’ the Mill. It was only temporary I told them just until I could get back to school.
OMG! 19 and scared to death. That waterfall roar that had fascinated me as a child now became not just a deafening cacophony but a brutal vibration that came through the floor up my legs meeting the noise in my head somewhere near my heart. It was 93 degrees outside with 90 percent humidity, they were misting water into the air to keep the threads from breaking and the looms were creating their own atmospheric hell.
I didn’t run or cry, although I wanted badly to do both. One reason being I needed the job the other was these people were family, they’d worked beside Maw Maw & Paw Paw.
So I became an oiler. One of the easiest jobs on the floor. They gave Alton, the current oiler one week to train me then moved him to Doffing. Alton had wanted to be a Doffer for years, it paid more, and did his best to see that I knew all of the responsibilities of the job. There were seventeen little oil trays on each loom that I had to wipe the accumulated oil soaked lint from and refill with oil. I had four days to do this to every loom in the mill. I can’t remember today how many looms there were but it took every minute of every day of all four days to get it done. The looms were set back to back in rows with just enough room for the doffer to remove the cloth, the mechanics to make repairs and me to oil the Loom. As I stuck my hand into this Slamming Banging machine to wipe the lint from the tray I kept seeing my great grandpas hook. On the fifth day I had to grease the bearings on one third of the looms on the floor. I had to stop the Loom. To stop the Loom you had to time the action so the shuttle, that was flying back and forth at about one hundred passes a minute, was in the left hand or restarting was a real chore. An improper shut down could send the shuttle flying across the room destroying anything in its path, warp, window, or human. Just a quick description. The shuttle was made from hardwood about fourteen inches long four inches wide and about that tall. It was pointed at both ends with metal tips and hollowed out like an old dugout canoe to accept the quill.
So 5 days after starting I’ve learned to work in Dante’s Inferno while breathing cotton lint in one hundred and 10 percent humidity and see to the lubricating needs of a factory’s worth of Looms. Or so I thought. On Monday of my fourth week while standing in the bathroom smoking a cigarette and trying to listen to sage advice from Alton we heard loud banging noises. Now if you can hear a noise louder than the Looms running something BIG is happening. We looked out to see the first nine Looms on the far row stopped and smoking. The floor manager was quick enough to shut off the main power and saved the rest. Seems that ‘Earl & Zena’s boy’ had missed a major grease fitting on all of the Looms.
Found out latter, after I was ‘out of the Mill’, that they didn’t fire me for the same reason they’d given me the easiest job on the floor, I was ‘Earl & Zena’s boy’. So on Tuesday Alton returned to oiler and I was moved to the graveyard shift running quills to the Weavers.
After returning to school I kept a part time job at the Mill. On Sundays the Mill was closed at 6 AM and I went in to ‘Blow down the Mill’. After a week of running with the misters going and the lint flying it got real dang fuzzy in there. Using compressed air I had to blow all of the lint down from the ceiling, off of the drive shafts and pulleys and the Looms then sweep it up. After working in the violence of that big room being there alone with only the noise of escaping compressed air was spooky. Like there was violence in the floor and air still looking for a victim. I think by mid February I gave the job up, getting to Clanton by 6 AM every Sunday after partying on Saturday night wasn’t working.
I never went ‘back in’, I never gave it much thought until I read ‘All They Ever Had’. If you want to know what a large portion of Alabama’s labor force went through in the first three quarters of the 20th Century get a copy.
I didn’t learn the harder lesson that the Mill should have taught, get an education, but I learned a lot about the people in that Mill and what they went through to ‘just get by’. I also learned that they not only tolerated me and cared about me because I was ‘Earl & Zena’s boy” but because I was ‘in the Mill’ just like they were. No better, no worse. proud to be working.

Construction

    This might just go all over the place but it's my Blog and is rarely read by others so I'll use it as intended.....release.

    I have a rather romanticized view of my profession. I consider those that I deal with in my trade as fair minded, honest & reliable people. But reality bites ones butt occasionally.

    I've been trying to get a job off the ground for over four months now. Just getting prices has been a nightmare. Excavator contractors promising to give bids but never calling back was the first hurdle. Then after a set of figures were presented Deed issues that had to be clarified caused a time issue that called for the excavator to pull out of the project. While scurrying around to find a replacement my customer agreed to a 'Ball Park Bid' that allowed me to hire a tree removal company to proceed with clearing the area that the addition would occupy.

    And then true agony and frustration sets in. The tree removal contractor I hired, he was paid half of the $2,000 bid and was supposed to finish 3 days after starting, started the job & j u s t l e t i t d r a g o n. OMG! after three weeks, with repeated phone calls and unanswered messages I hired someone else to complete his job. I had lined up an excavator to start digging the week after the tree guy started. He backed out of the project because he couldn't stay idle waiting for the tree guy to finish.

    It was one of the hardest things I'd done. One of the reasons I'm a good carpenter but not a very good General Contractor is I see the other guy as honest and therefore in trouble if he doesn't perform on schedule.

    So I hire an excavator that agrees to remove the trees & dig the hole. He starts working the next day, a Friday & returns on Saturday to work more. On Monday while he's digging away the tree removal guy shows up. Not with a crew to finish the job but with a bill for $750. He claims that removing the trees he'd cut down was only worth $250. This guy has Balls! Hang me out for three weeks leave me wondering when I might get to bring in an excavator and then tell me what it cost to finish his job! ARGH!! I told him the balance of his estimate had been paid to someone else to finish the job. Well that seemed to upset him something terrible. He was using language that I'll not even attempt to describe with #!@*'s. He also be came physical to the point that I thought I was going to have to dial 911.

    So he rants off with threats of suit and liens, neither of which he can persue because there was no contract, and I now have concrete blocks being laid for my crawlspace foundation.

    Three days ago I get a letter from his daughter-in-law who's a lawyer in Delaware claiming dire legal consequences if I don't pay the $750 to this Butthead. Now I get real upset when threatened. Especially when I was wronged and there is no grounds to back up the threat. In PA if there's no contract there is no legal recourse. You can't sue, you can't put a lien on the property you can't nothing. So I'm ready to tear this little snotty lawyer a new one when my customer calls. Seems he also received the letter and wants me to settle even after I explain that the Butthead has no legal or moral ground to his claim. So customers are always right and I had to write a counter offer to Buttheads daughter-in-law lawyer. Took seven versions to get all of the inflammatory stuff out of my first draft ;~)

    So now I wait to see if the offer of $400, the customers suggested amount, is accepted. Knowing lawyers & this Butthead they'll come back with something higher at which time my offer drops to $350. And so on and on and on.

    At least my foundation was started and only lacks one day to complete. It's raining today & will be tomorrow which means Monday ............

Buna Lois Bertie Garner

    I've been blessed in knowing several truly 'good' women in my life but Aunt Buna was special. Whenever I was with her she made me feel like I was the only child in her heart. Now I know that she made many feel that way, it was one of her gifts, but I'll allow myself to believe it was only me.

    She laughed all the time, not a great guffaw but a melodic chuckle, and praised the works of her family & friends and the blessings bestowed upon her by her Lord & Savior. She saw almost everything as a blessing and was eager to share them with you.

    Buna lived by herself after Uncle Jimmy passed away in May of 1981 in the house at Macedonia that her father-in-law built at the turn of the Century. She never learned to drive and relied on friends & family for transportation. She reluctantly agreed to a move to the nursing home in Clanton just a few years ago when she could no longer hobble about her home and care for herself.

    Yesterday, while unknown to me she lay dying, I was trying to recount how many great Aunts & Uncles I had. 22 not counting their spouses. I remember almost all of them but I'll never forget Aunt Buna and how she said "Rickey" with a beaming smile.

    Rest in Peace sweetheart! You've gone to the reward you've prepared for all of your life. Say hey to the family for me. Love You!

No Zip today

Ruby!

   Ah Ruby. It was a true experience knowing Ruby. Ruby was my Aunt Carolyn's mother-in-law but Ruby knew me and my family before that connection was made. Ruby worked in the Dan River Cotton mill with my grandparents. I don't remember any actual conversations but I don't think my grandmother cared for Ruby much. Ruby was .... Flamboyant...yep that'll do. Her hair was piled high, her skirts were tight and her make up was plentiful. And she just loved to spoil the shit out of me and my sibs. She was married to Hal a retired Air Force guy. He was uncle Jimmies step dad.

   One time we were traveling from Memphis to Clanton and somehow Ruby & Hal were traveling the same way. I was asked if I wanted to ride with Ruby & Hal. Are you kid'n? The trip with Mom & Dad would be the usual, a stop for gas and a bathroom break some water & then on the road again. With Ruby the opportunities were endless. There would be at least be one if not two stops where a soda & some candy would be offered. And to top it off Hal's car had the head of an Indian on the front that glowed orange at night.
As the years came and went Ruby never altered her basic costume or make up. Well maybe the make up by adding to it ;~). She always made a fuss over me and that goes a long way with this guy.


   Miss you Ruby! You too Hal.
Zipidee

Mo!

Well just a quick bitch about deregulation then on to other things. Not really in a rant mood right now and if I rant too long it might put me in one so....
So last rant was banking deregulation so this one is about oil drilling & gas drilling regulation. WE NEED MORE!

Said it would be short. Working on getting a two story 18'X20' addition started. Been difficult getting a price from an excavator. It's going to be difficult to do but all I'm asking is "How much money?" I can't just go with "Dig it then bill me".
This job will be enough to keep us from going under next winter and make a Christmas trip to 'Bama possible. YeeHa!

Regulation

    I hear the Harpies Screeching daily about how the government needs to get out of their lives and let ---what? -- Big Business rule?
    What example can they give that supports a reason for not regulating our economy & businesses? None!


    It’s worth remembering that between the 1930s and the 1980s, there weren’t any really big financial bailouts, because strong regulation kept most banks out of trouble. It was only with Reagan-era deregulation that big bank disasters re-emerged. In fact, relative to the size of the economy, the taxpayer costs of the savings and loan disaster, which unfolded in the Reagan years, were much higher than anything likely to happen under President Obama.


    To understand what’s really at stake right now, watch the looming fight over derivatives, the complex financial instruments Warren Buffett famously described as “financial weapons of mass destruction.” The Obama administration wants tighter regulation of derivatives, while Republicans are opposed. And that tells you everything you need to know.

*#@**#@@@!!!

    I can't put in words how ANGRY I am with my government. It deregulated banking, it let the insurance industry, the health care industry & the oil industry dictate policies that have thrown me & hundreds of thousands out of work.

    After stealing my livelihood the BASTARDS have the BALLS to pass out obscene bonuses for a job well done!

    Getting rich wasn't a goal I set when I started my life. Having a good family, loving, caring, honest, one like my parents had, was my goal. I have that. But now at 59 years RICH FAT BUSINESS BASTARDS have made it so that while they lay about at the beach I sit at home waiting for .....

    I do see the need for revolution and revolution needn't foster violence or rely on it to reach it's goals and I steadfastly REFUSE to ally myself with Homophobic Racist no matter how similar the goals might be.

    Venting here really doesn't get it all out though it does some, but seems that FB isn't considered the place to post it, or so I'm told ;~)

Zipidee



    

And then

    We bring up 'If it's ok for them to do it it's ok for us to do it. What? third grade playground ethics now? It's not ok for Franks to do it or Shelby for that matter.

    If we don't put this States & Region crap behind us a start acting like the Union we're suposed to be we will become a third world country.

     The same things are wrong in the state I live in that are wrong with the state you live in. Yes we each have a few unique wrongs but for the most part we're the same. Only concerted effort to correct all of the wrongs will set us on a path to progress. Continuing to justify wrong actions by previous wrong actions is infantile.

    

Put up yer Dukes!

    Seems ole Unc thinks that posting an opinion on a certain social networking tool is an invitation to a fisticuffs. Not so. Merely a statement of opinion. You're entitled as am I.

    I, unlike Unc, love to talk politics. The fair exchange of ideas is bread & wine to me. I learn a lot in discourse. If I had the answers I wouldn't be sitting here bloggin, I'd be telling the world. So share with me your thoughts, if I find them persuasive I might make them a part of my belief, if not you've lost nothing.

    The issue that I have with those I named on FB is their source for their stated subject. One of them says something that not only can't be substantiated but can often be repudiated. It is then repeated by the others and when the original is asked for a source of his facts quotes one of those that merely repeated his original calumny.

    I find this from those mentioned far too often. I look for it on CNN, NBC, MSNBC, CBS and ABC but have yet to find one instance where the source was a past report by a fellow reporter.

    You don't know how I pray for a grass roots uprising that will take back our government and restore my vote. This 'Tea Bag'thing was, in the beginning, an answer to that prayer. Until it was co opted by Far Right Republicans, Racist Homophobes and Wack Jobs. Sarah Palin as the 'Light that Leads'!? Oh My God. If that's the best they can come up with I not only want nothing to do with them but laugh at their lack of intelligence in their choice. Is there no Newt out there? Is there no truth to be used? Do they have to use fear, ignorance & libel to advance their cause?



Zipidee wishes he could be more concise ;~)

Such a place

There's a place in my mind where every thing's fine,
I go there as much as I can.
Then something pops up that brings me about,
Lord knows it's such a distraction.
It used to be things full of wonder & glee
but more often than not now just upsetting.
The world as it is, such a wonder to see,
being picked apart by TV.
There's the 'Left' & the 'Right' and a 'Middle they say,
but all just divisions of 'US'.
They use ugly names all sides do the same,
I think I'll head back to my place

Excited distress. Now there's a combination.

   I always get excited about going into NYC. There's an electric charge, that I'm sure is created by me for me, whenever I go 'in'.

   I live in a rather rural setting, for the northeast that is. Not the 5,000 sq/mi solitude of Verbena but isolation just the same. To go into the Megalopolis of NYC in just 2 hrs of travel from our seclusion still thrills me.

   But there is also the distress. Driving closer to the flame creates a tension that's only released by driving away.

   So Tuesdays trip 'in' to attend the Memorial services of a dear departed college friend is fraught with anticipation, stress, excitement & remorse.
   So many feelings -- Life is grand!