My Candidate

Here it is, a presidential election year (2012), and I find myself somewhat dismayed at the choices I have. On the one hand, I have a Romney/Ryan ticket with which I am unable to find little, if any, common ground. Romney seems like a nice guy, but it is difficult to pin down whom he really is, and what he really stands for. Is this the Romney that signed health care legislation into law in Massachusetts, or is this a different kind of Romney now? And I shudder to think of Paul Ryan being a heart-beat away from the presidency; a man who likes the "no exceptions" rule for abortions and whose voucher plan for health insurance would kill Medicare as we know it in a few short years and that would eventually price poor people out of the market.

So, I have problems supporting the Republican ticket, but I also have problems supporting the Democratic camp as well. At present, the only program of President Obama that I unequivocally support is the Affordable Care Act (ACA). In my opinion, we have needed national health care for decades, and his plan, while not perfect, is a step in the right direction. Beyond that, though, he and I drift apart, albeit not severely. As for Biden, I have almost as many misgivings about him as I do about Ryan. I feel that he was a political expediency in 2008, but has shown little presidential timbre. His main calling card seems to be a propensity for telling bad jokes at inopportune times.

So, what's a guy like me supposed to do? Well, while I know that this is an exercise in wishful thinking, I decided to list some of the agendas to which my candidate would adhere. Here goes nothing...

1) My candidate would promise to dismantle the DEA in its entirety.

2) He/she would propose legislation legalizing cannabis and the selling of it in licensed

locations (such as liquor stores and taverns), and taxing those sales.

3) He/she would immediately withdraw all American troops from the Middle East.

4) He/she would reduce all foreign military financial aid by %50, while keeping intact

all humanitarian aid for disease, hunger, natural disasters, etc.

5) He/she would reduce the budget for the Defense Department.

6) He/she would increase the budget for the Department of Education and change the current "test" based system to one with an emphasis on learning and understanding.

7) He/she would increase the budget for NASA, whose achievements have affected our lives in so many beneficial ways.

8) He/she would put all so-called "social" issues (abortion, prayer in school, what it says on our money, etc.) on a back burner, leaving them at their current status, hopefully to never be visited again.

Well, there you have it. As you can see, I'm not hard to please; now all I need to do is find me a lantern and start roaming the streets in search of my candidate.

Yeah, I hear you: good luck with that one, right?

Super Ad Sunday

Good morning, everyone. As you prob know, unless you live on another planet, today is Super Ad Sunday; that day when we all pay homage to our corporate owners by watching a game played by grown men in short pants for a mythical championship that will be nothing but a historical footnote in short order. It is every American's civic duty to devour all the ads during said game and then go out and buy mountains of their products. After all, we wouldn't won't any of our corporate bosses starving to death, now would we?

And while you're at it, please say a little prayer for the health and well-being of all their workers in China as well, amen.

Tebow Time

Comes now the new football player, Tim Tebow; and a splendid warrior is he. Much has been said about his physical attributes, and about whether he is suited to play his current position, quarterback, or would he be a better fit somewhere else on the team (tight end has been mentioned)? However, regardless of where he plays, he is a fierce presence in the game he has chosen. Or, perhaps Mr. Tebow would say the game was chosen for him…

Whatever.

Lately, much more has been made about his sideline attitude, in which he kneels and places himself in a position of supplication to the Lord. Many have made this a focal point of discussions about him, and it has become a national fad, primarily among young people, to imitate him through a phenomenon now known as “Tebowing”, wherein one kneels and presumable prays wherever they might be at the time; public or private.

This phenomenon leads one, myself included, to have several thoughts about the matter. In the Bible, in Matthew 6.6; it says that you should pray “in private”, or “in secret”, depending on which version of the Bible you are reading. Bear in mind, of course, that biblical verses are subject to many translations; verses written in one place are often contradicted in another place. Suffice to say, you can use the Bible to back up most any assertations you might make; in the same way that statistics are used. I prefer a literal translation; but hey, that’s just me, you do what you want.

That Mr. Tebow uses the sidelines of a playing field in a very public setting doesn’t bother me so much anyway. What does bother me is wondering about the context of his prayers. Is he praying for peace, or for help for the needy, or for an end to the jealousies of mankind? Or, is he praying for excellence on the football field, or for victory, or for the admiration of his peers? If, in fact, he is praying for the latter three, my friends, then he is a hypocrite and not worthy of emulation.

Football, after all, is just a game; a carry-over from our childhood days; we just wear bigger pants now. Not only is it just a game, it is a game based on the precepts of war, if you will. In short, it is hardly a reflection of true Christian values. If you are looking to find God on the football field, you are looking in the wrong place.

It would be wrong of me to assume what his prayers are about; however, given the setting of his poses and prayers, I have to wonder. But, that is a question only Mr. Tebow can answer, and we can only hope for the best. Ultimately, he alone will have to pay the price for the content of his heart…

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Yep, Were Lazy All Right...

Yep, Were Lazy All Right...

Much has been made lately about President Obama's taken-out-of-context statement about us, as Americans, becoming “lazy”. Although it would appear to me, after reading the statements made, that he was referring more to the business sector than he was to our citizens, I say that he should have been referring to us!

It would not be a distortion of the truth for him to say such.

For it seems to me, that that is exactly what has happened in this country today; we are just flat-ass lazy, and it's getting worse. It matters not what the latest bickering in congress is about, because we have the power to change all that, if we just would.

Please don't tell me about how hard you work at your job, or how innovative you have been. That's not what the problem is, and it's not what we are talking about here.

Here's an innovation for you: how about showing up to vote? According to the US Census Bureau, in the presidential election of 2008, only 64% of eligible voters cast their ballot. Some of you may look at that number and say, “Hmmm, well...that's not so bad”. You are right. That is not “so bad”, it is absolutely TERRIBLE!

It is not that far removed from being a government by minority, instead of majority, vote. In my opinion, there is no reason why that statistic should not say 90% instead of 64%.

Hang your excuses, you have avenues available to you to cast your ballot, even if you are going to be out of the country on election day. The only valid excuse I can even think of is to be so ill that you can't go out, but it is my belief that on any given day at least 90% of us are healthy enough to exercise our rights.

It is my fervent hope that someday voting will be so easy and the public so well informed of the options available, that voting will soar close to 100% participation. I have high hopes for the internet in that regard, the day is coming when nearly everyone, rich or poor, will have online access. May that day arrive quickly.

Until then, take my word for it, you are just plain lazy; and everyone else that neglects their right to vote, is just like you.

Thoughts About Penn State

Thoughts About Penn State...

We dream, and we dream about myriad things, both good and bad.

We dream in colors, we dream in shadows, we dream of persons and places we both know and don't know, simultaneously.

Sometimes, we dream of places we've been in other dreams, multiple times. Usually, this makes us happy; sometimes, not.

Occasionally, when we dream, we have power and are in control; submissive people walk around us, aware and afraid, but yet – not fleeing.

We dream we take advantage of these situations, and force our wills upon them. We feel no remorse; they are ours, and we can do with them what we will.

Some of us remember our dreams, some of us don't; it doesn't matter. They are stuck with us forever, either subconsciously or consciously, or both. They never leave, they are always there; in many ways like the person that loses a foot, but still feels it there constantly.

Often, we are haunted by our dreams; they carry over into our waking hours, a constant little itch under our skin. They are things we wish to carry out in our real lives, like breaking par at the golf course or getting a date with that “really hot” new person at work. Perhaps we will hit the lottery and retire to the Islands. Not often, but sometimes, these dreams come true, most likely aided by the fact that we desire them so much.

But...sometimes we dream of evil things, gross things, things that people in a normal society just don't do. Unfortunately...sometimes those dreams come true too!

When they do, we most likely didn't want them to come true, but still, we reap the “rewards” from them unashamedly. We do that, even though we know that someday there will be hell to pay.

Just ask Jerry Sandusky and his enablers at Penn State, they know...now.

The Good Old Days?

The Good Old Days?

Often when cruising the web and reading blogs and what-not, I will come across a lamentation by a well-intentioned individual about how much they miss “the good old days.” Invariably, these nostalgic trips down memory lane will include recollections about how they used to swim in stock tanks and their mom and dad used to beat their ass “real good” and how they used to drink out of water hoses and, by golly, they “ain't dead yet!”

I read these things, and I wonder: just what “good old days” are they talking about? My personal “good old days” would have been in the fifties and early sixties, I guess, although I'm not sure what the criteria is for bona-fide 'good old day' qualification. My assumption is that they are talking about their childhood and school days, given the things they usually talk about. With that in mind, please bear with me while I relate my memories of that particular time.

To begin with, we had no phone, no television, no car, and yes; no air conditioning either. We lived in a three room apartment (luckily I was an only child), the three rooms consisting of one large room that served as a dining room, bedroom, and living room combined; a kitchen, and one small, small bathroom. I slept on one end of the big room, and my mom and dad slept on the other end.

Our apartment was one of four in the main house owned by the landlady and was the biggest next to her own living quarters. It was our good fortune that our front door opened up into the hallway that split the house, where there was a phone located that we could use for important stuff (five minute limit, please, the sign said), and at the other end of the hallway was a bathroom big enough to hold a tub so that you could bathe if no one else was using it at your needed time. It was used by everyone else living in the main house, you understand.

One nice thing it did have was an ample yard to play in (they used to build houses that way; at least in Texas they did) with a church next door that had a nice yard as well. Way in the back of the property was a huge vacant lot that was kept mostly mowed most of the time. The yards and that lot were the scene of many an enjoyable pick-up football game for my friends and I; you needed really nice grass to play football on, you see. And you really needed a big lot to fly kites in too, seeing as how playing football and flying kites were just about our only activities.

The school was really convenient for me as well, it was only about a three block walk, although it sometimes seemed longer; especially when it was raining or sleeting. I suppose that walking to school in all kinds of weather was good for me though, but I'm at a loss to understand how that could possibly be. Maybe the benefit was that the snot kept my nose warm so that it didn't fall off, I don't know...

Back in those days, I only had one friend that had a TV; it was black-and-white of course (“colored TV” hadn't been invented yet) and you could get three channels on it. I would go over my friends house and we would watch baseball and football games on it during the day, our only problem being that usually the channel that was carrying the game would be the one that had the most snow and the grainiest picture. But, if you kept the audio portion turned up, you usually didn't miss too much of the game; the announcers knew about the visual problems and would broadcast the game pretty much like a radio announcer would. These moments were the only one's we were allowed on the television; once the father came home, the kids were done with the TV for the rest of the day.

Drink from a water hose? Yeah, all of us kids did that from time to time, although we much preferred drinking it out of the faucet instead of the hose. The water that came out of the hose tasted like rubber, you see; the water from the tap only tasted like iron or rust, which was much preferred to the hose water.

Depending on where you lived in our fair state, your water supply either came from a reservoir, a well, a spring, or any combination of the three. In the little town I was raised in, our water came from a muddy lake about three miles out of town. I suppose it was filtered and treated somewhere; however, where that facility might have been is still a mystery to me until this day, because I never saw anything in the entire town that even remotely resembled a water treatment facility. I'm sure it was treated somewhere, though, because in addition to the iron and rust you could taste chlorine as well. Anyway, I'm pretty sure I didn't die from drinking the water (at least, not yet), but if anybody did die from it, we had no way of knowing if the water was at fault, or not.

One thing is for sure, a doctor back in those days would have never been able to give you that information, and I'm pretty sure the doctors nowadays couldn't either. Depending on which doctor you talk to, they will all come up with reasons for your death, but unless you are shot point-blank in the head with a .45, there is apt to be no consensus.

Yes, doctors used to make house calls back then, or at least some of them did. The one that my mother always called to come and “cure” me, would invariably shine lights in my eyes and stick wooden paddles in my mouth and rub me all over the chest and back with a cold stethoscope, before announcing that my mother should give me a couple of aspirin and keep me in bed for the rest of the day. He was a dependable guy, though; you could always count on getting his bill in the mail a week or so later. My parents choices were simple; they could either pay the bill, or the doctor would never show up at the house again.

My father always found this quite amusing when he was attempting to cover the house hold expenses; he would always say that we “might as well have called a medicine man and given him some money.” My father, needless to say, didn't have a lot of faith in doctors...

Time moved on from that point; I grew older and went to high school and all that, and eventually started going to a REAL clinic and sitting in a REAL HARD CHAIR waiting to see a doctor. When I finally would get to see a doctor, he would basically tell me the same thing that the house-call doc used to tell my mother and send me home, with an admonition to “stop at the counter” and pay my bill on the way out.

The day I graduated from high school, we still had no television, no car, and no A/C; although our abode had improved somewhat. We still rented (from the same lady), but now we lived in a four room cottage, instead of a three room flat.

Ah, memories...I think about all that, and still I wonder: Just when were these “good old days” that everyone talks about?