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…

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?

Thoughts About Fools

Thoughts About Fools

While drinking coffee and surfing the internet this morning, the incessant rantings of some posters made me think “what in the world is on their minds?” This is not a new occurrence for me of course; invariably it happens on a daily basis. Postings and other blogs have always been a matter of personal opinion, but still, when I read some of the things people have to say, it makes me wonder about their knowledge and intelligence.

I read their musings mostly as a bizarre form of entertainment, if you will, although there are some posts that are well thought out, researched, and presented in a palatable form. Those intelligent posts are far from the norm, however, and one often has to read through two or three pages of material to find even one. That doesn't really surprise me; idiocy and name calling are easy and quick to write; you don't have to go through all that work to put together a coherent post like the intelligent people.

With that in mind, I have assembled a short list here of things here that indicate whether you are a fool, or not. My listing here is just my opinion, of course, but I welcome any and all inspections and reviews, as I find these “truths” to be self-evident. If you wish to differ with me, that is your right, however short-sighted I find your argument to be. And so, without further ado, here is my list:

1. Anyone who believes we are alone in the universe – is a fool.

2. Anyone who thinks that global warming is not real – is a fool.

3. Anyone who thinks that our Congress is not driven by money – is a fool.

4. Anyone who believes that the majority is always right – is a fool.

5. Anyone who thinks that “intelligent design” is a science – is a fool.

6. Anyone who believes that blind patriotism is necessary – is a fool.

7. Anyone who believes in the so-called “war on drugs” – is a fool.

8. Anyone who thinks that prisons are more important than education – is a fool.

9. Anyone who thinks the U. S. can fence itself off – is a fool.

10. Anyone who believes that more guns are the answer to a safer society – is a fool.

There you go, just a short list of ten things that bother me as I read others blogs. There are more, to be sure, that I could bring to mind (I've just barely touched on politics and religion), but I'm sure I've included enough to start a good barroom brawl on Saturday night in most places. But hey, if you disagree with any of my points, that is your prerogative; go ahead and do it. Just remember, my father can whip your father...

The Book Burning

Comes now a self-ordained minister from out of the South; his name is Jerry/James/Pat/David/Jimmy/Al/, whatever; just pick one, it doesn’t make any difference. He proposes to burn a book; the name of the book doesn’t matter, it is just a book.
Of more import are his reasons for burning the book. He does so to claim his fifteen minutes of fame supposedly given to us all, perhaps thinking that his fame will last longer than that, and that he would become a leader to everyone.

He does so under the guise of catchwords such as patriotism, and christianism, and human rights. He does so without mention of hatred, and prejudice.

He would have us pull oars on the good ship Ignorance, piloted by him and at his whim. The oars have names; fear, loathing, arrogance, stupidity, greed, et al.

Does he have the right to burn a book if he wishes? Of course, he does, the fundamental right to freedom of speech and expression is paramount of all the rights we enjoy. The question is not that he has the right, rather, it is, is he right to do so?

In my opinion, he is wrong, his methods are wrong, and he attempts to make fools of us all through his actions. The burning of books has been quite the rage at various times in the history of humankind; in no instance has it ever served the people well.

He acts out of fear, not out of righteousness; what he does not understand he would separate himself from it by burning the offending object, instead of trying to understand it.

He is arrogant; he would have us accept his words without reading the words of others.

He has forgotten that humankind should exist together, not apart.

He is stridently militaristic, for if he burns this book, might your book not be the next?

He is supposedly a man of God, but he rides on the Devil’s ship of false prophets; ambiguously leading us into self-destruction.

All of this he does for a few headlines on a news page. I feel sorrow for him, and even more so for the flock he attends; do not become one of them.

The burning of a book, any book, represents a step backward in our history. Hold your books, and the books of all others, dear to you. They represent a literary trail of the passage of time in our little universe; to destroy them is to destroy ourselves, whether we believe what is written on their pages, or not.

The Gaming Game - An Opinion

August 27, 2010, 4:01 PM — I see you. There you are, over there, hiding behind your computer. May I see what’s on your screen? No? You’re embarrassed, aren’t you? I’ve caught you in the midst of playing one of those “free” online games. You know, that free game that you’ve spent $125 on so far this month, and there’s still five days left before the first.

Oh, I know, you’re going to argue with me. The game most certainly is free, you’re going to say. They didn’t charge you any kind of subscription fee, or any set-up fee, or anything, you’re going to say. Why, you got started for nothing but a small investment in time. The money you’ve spent was not required in any way; you have spent it of your own volition. What could possibly be wrong with that?

The Hook, the Line, and the Sinker

In my opinion, there is a great deal wrong with that. The producers of the game (you name it, it doesn’t make any difference) have put together a slick advertising package to draw you into the game. The ad features the word “free” of course, and is usually accompanied by visually pleasing graphics, some of which are slightly erotic in nature, that appeal to your baser moralities, and promise a fantastic voyage, the like of which you have never been on before.
They usually deliver. The game is fun, in an absorbing sort of way, the graphics might not be all that you thought they would be, but they are pretty good. Your playing, you’re smiling; hey, life is good.

Soon, however, you discover that the game is even more fun if you buy a few things from the “shop” (always open for business, 24/7); and, not only that, but also those bought items give you an advantage over your adversaries. The more you buy, the bigger the advantage; woo doggies, we’re having fun now.

The next time you look up, you discover that you now have a major investment in the game, and to quit at this point would mean to lose that investment of time and money. Ergo, you can’t quit now! We must battle on to the bitter end; after all, you are playing for the bragging rights of your clan!
　
The Sad and the Inevitable

The problem is, you’ve become very much like that character in the Roger Miller song, “Dang Me.” You’ve “done spent the groceries and half the rent.” Not only that, you’ve become a hermit, a recluse. Your own family doesn’t even recognize you anymore; you’ve become one of the unkempt and the unwashed. You now live in front of your computer; you eat and drink there, you doze in and out of tortured sleep; if you could, you would even go to the bathroom there. To snooze is to lose, sleep too long, and one of your enemies might steal your prized possessions. You even play the game at work, on your computer there. You don’t have to worry about being caught; you’re boss is playing too! Win, win, you must win; you will do whatever it takes…

Then, you begin to notice a few other things, things that had eluded you until now. In spite of all the money and time you’ve invested, you notice that some of your fellow players are still way ahead of you; how can this be? Could it be that some of them are…cheating?

The realization hits you like a heavy punch to the heart; yes, you realize, there IS cheating going on in the game. In spite of the promises of the gamekeeper that “no cheating is allowed,” and if cheating is discovered, the offenders “will be removed,” it is still happening.

You remember reading the “big no-no” when you first began. It clearly stated that “having duplicate accounts was strictly prohibited,” and you believed them. You believed that they would punish offenders by making them close their extra accounts, so you played by the rules. Gee, it’s just too bad the rest of them weren’t playing be the rules as well…

The Evil is Encouraged

It’s not like its any secret anymore; in fact, it is openly touted on the chat board. The evil one’s actually brag in public about how well they have cheated; there’s ol’ Brad from Omaha bragging about “having six accounts now,” God only knows where he gets the free time. You are already putting six to eight hours a day into your one measly account; how much time would be required if you had two or three?

And why aren’t these people being punished, why are they being allowed to go on cheating, all the while they are beating your butt to death?

Money Talks and BS Walks

They are not being disciplined because more accounts equals more money for the producers. The more accounts they have, the more cash they are banking; they don’t care that a lot of that money is coming from rules-breakers. If, at the end of the day, there is more cash in the till than there was the day before, they are happy. Go on brother, go to the “shop” and buy yourself more coins/gems/jewels, etc. You know you want them.

All you have to do is explain to junior why he can’t ever get on the puter anymore, and to your wife, also. Why wouldn’t they understand, can’t they see how important this is to you?
Besides, you can quit any time you want to…can’t you?

Truth and Beauty

The beauty of poker lies in the fact that it is so brutally, wonderfully honest. You know going in that it’s you against them, your pile of chips against their pile. If you get tired of playing and want to goof off for a week, nobody is going to steal your pile of chips; you can carry it with you. When you come back to play again, nothing has changed; it’s still you versus them.

The same is true in many other games of course; you know at the outset what your assets are, and what you have to do to improve your lot. Their beauty lies in their honesty; you are on a level field with everyone else.

There are no bells, no whistles. Nor is there a “magic” wheel or slot machine to give you things you don’t have coming. Above all else, there is no “shop” to go to and buy victory. You have to play the hand you’re dealt, just like real life; that’s the beautiful part of it. You can cry about bad fortune if you wish, but hey, tomorrow’s another day. Moreover, at the end of this day, you are still smiling; in spite of losing, some of your stress has melted away in a pleasant hour or two of playing a game. You feel better, not worse. And, you know what? You still have your paycheck left as well…

The Real Losers Identified

The real losers are the one’s that are still playing the game you were drawn into so artfully by the game-masters, wherever they are. With seemingly unlimited time, and money that grows on trees, they are still chasing the elusive crown of victory. No matter that all the color has drained from their faces, their bodies bloated, and they are now social pariahs in real life; they still strive to be the all-potent, the most feared, the owner of the throne, the champion of the game.

The sad part of it is, they are in actuality the biggest losers. They are the ones who have spent the most money, thrown away the most time, and gone to bed the most stressed of anyone playing. All of this they have done for a cyber crown? For a mythical championship, for bragging rights in an effusive and always changing world of millions of people they don’t even know?

They have my best wishes, and my highest hopes. I hope that at the end of the day, their families are still washed and fed. I hope they still have their 401k accounts, and their marriage. I hope that some day they will awaken from their stupor, and start living real lives and solving real problems. I hope they still have their sanity, and will still be able to have real conversations, face-to-face, with real people. Heck, if they just survive, that will be good enough for me…

I feel sorry for them; they are alcoholics being offered another drink, child molesters being led onto a playground. It must be hell living in a sunless, undisciplined world of selfishness.

Speaking of which…have you seen your spouse lately?

FOR THE SAKE OF ARGUMENT

FOR THE SAKE OF ARGUMENT August 4, 2010...For the sake of argument, let’s talk, or argue, about it if you wish. First, let me begin by saying that I am not against arguing; nope, no way, not me Jose. In my opinion, arguing is a good thing, not a bad one. Arguing is one of the ways we settle our differences of opinion about things big and small; without argument, matters would be left to resolve themselves without any input from us, and we wouldn’t want that, would we? Heck no, we’ve got to get our two cents said, be it right or wrong. There are some who say that instead of arguing, we should converse; but I say that having a good argument or a good conversation is the same thing. Alternatively, at least, it should be. Nowadays, people have added some ugly heads to the argument monster, and in doing so, have actually demeaned the purpose of arguing in the first place; that purpose being to make your points known on a given subject. However, many people now have adopted a “my way or the highway” attitude that have rendered the reasons for argument impossible to achieve. With that in mind, I would like to argue for the sake of argument that some things need to be observed by the participants of an argument in order for any argument to have any meaning at all. Here are some things that I believe good arguments either have or don’t have.

Shouting: Shouting at one another is absolute poison to any argument; effective problem solving can never be attained by shouting. Heart attacks, strokes, increased sales of blood pressure medicines, yes; resolution of problems, NO!

Hogging the floor: There must be two sides to every argument, or else it is not an argument at all. To continue to speak when clearly others have input they wish to contribute is patently unfair. If you don’t want to hear the other side, go rent yourself a podium and a megaphone; and put up several signs that say “no questions taken.” Even better, go talk to your mirror, that person is a very good listener. Well, at least he/she can’t walk out on you…

Making it a contest: Really, there are no “winners” or “losers” in a good argument. The object of arguing should be to understand what the interested parties have to say before reaching any conclusions. Often, both sides of an argument will reach some middle point of agreement and often they will not. Whether or not the sides reach a mutual area of agreement, both sides will still have benefited from at least listening to each other.

No bashing, please: Nothing belittles an argument so much as using someone’s ethnicity, religion, lifestyle, etc. as support for it. Not only does it demean the argument, it demeans the arguer as well; if your argument is so shallow as to have to resort to personal attacks in order to make it, perhaps you really don’t have an argument at all. People just cannot be categorized; the best and the worst of us come from everywhere.

Listen: Ah, that’s a magic word…listen! The person(s) with whom you are arguing have something to say, else they wouldn’t be arguing with you at all. Listen to what they have share with you. Ideally, both sides of an argument would spend equal time speaking and listening, or writing and reading, if you prefer. Frequently, there is a delightful prize for conversing in this manner; you both may find that you are more in agreement than you thought you were.

Don’t argue forever: There will be instances when neither side will give even a inch, both sides remaining unconvinced of the other’s, regardless of the effort. My best advice in those situations is to shake hands and say, “Let’s talk about it again on another day.” While it’s true that unresolved problems leave holes in our lives, it is also true that hastening to solutions that are unsatisfactory to all serves no purpose. Better to save the argument for another day than to live with a “solution” that makes no one happy.

These are just some things to consider the next time you find yourself in an argument. I, for one, could write at great lengths about this, but for now, let’s just leave it as it is. For the sake of argument, let’s agree to argue about it another time. That is my argument, and, by golly, I’m sticking to it!
　

THE ARIZONA PROBLEM

Sunday, Aug. 1, 2010--IN THE NEWS: THE ARIZONA PROBLEM

The folks in Arizona, both good and bad, seem to by having a problem with their southern border. You know, the one they share with the country of Mexico. So much so, that their state legislature recently passed a law giving those entrusted with the duty of enforcing the law “more tools” in the perceived “war” against illegal immigration. While I am sure that those who support the new law’s intentions are good, well meaning people, we all know what the road to hell is paved with, don’t we? Once you have given a dog a bone, you’d best be careful how you retrieve it.

Before we delve any deeper into this problem, let me assure you that I am not without experience in this matter. I lived in both Tucson and Phoenix, spending about three years there between the two, and I lived in Flagstaff for about six months. Additionally, I’ve spent some time in New Mexico (much more that a vacation’s worth), and, of course, I was born in and continue to live in the Great State of Texas; as the politicos are fond of calling it. All three of these are border states; therefore, I have a life of experience of living with our Mexican brothers. After due consideration and drawing on my experiences here and there, I have come to the following conclusion: the Arizona law is plainly just wrong-headed, and serves no useful purpose.

For one thing, there are laws already on the books that cover the situation; new laws are not needed, the old one’s either need to be enforced, or changed to something easier to enforce. You can argue that enforcement by the feds has been lacking, but you can also argue that state’s laws can never supersede federal law. Didn’t we engage in a war one time, humorously known as the “civil war” (has there ever been any such thing as a civil war?), that was, in part at least, caused by the notion that a state could write laws contrary to the wishes of the federal government? Then, there’s that other thing; the matter of the rights of our citizens. District Judge Susan Bolton was correct when she wrote that it is likely that law-abiding citizens of this country will be detained against their will while their immigration status is being checked (this quote is not verbatim, but the meaning is the same). In other words, citizens will be deprived of their right to go about their business in the pursuit of their happiness, in a free manner. We must ask ourselves this question; do we really want a law that will obstruct our liberty? It is my hope this will become a moot question; for, once the arguments pro and con make it to the Supreme Court, the law will be ruled unconstitutional. This is as it should be, in my opinion.
I can only wonder, however, how this law ever came to be in the first place. Can the people of Arizona not see what they are doing to themselves? In their haste to keep illegal immigrants out of their state, are they really willing to give up one of their essential liberties? (insert any quote by Benjamin Franklin here) What will happen if their law is allowed to stand and be enforced? The answer is as old as slavery itself.

People with brown skin will be endangered in Arizona, whether they are here legally or not; whether they are citizens or not. I am no great shakes as an odds player, but I will take less-than-even odds that no white people will be stopped. Clear-cut cases of racial profiling will be abundant; ask any of your black friends about that. In Arizona, it will be even worse, because they will be able to deport any illegals they find, without due process of law. At least the black folks can’t be deported; they, for the most part, are citizens. And, if mistakes are made? Well, shoot, who’s to know? That’s another thing I’ll take less-than-even odds on; the police departments in Phoenix and Tucson won’t be running out into the streets to shout out any mistakes that they’ve made.

Let us remember that all of our families were immigrants to this country, not a single one of us can claim the USA as a birthright. The only indigenous people we have are the Native Americans, and we have treated them shamefully through the years. Not only do we continue to treat them shamefully, we are attempting to add blacks and Mexicans to the list as well. That’s some track record we have, folks, yessiree. I, for one, can’t find a whole lot there of which to be proud.

Ladies and gentlemen of Arizona, let’s come to our senses, shall we? Let’s quit acting as if the world is coming to an end (it’s not), and find a better way. Our neighbors to the south, the Mexicans, are here to stay, and they are not going to just disappear; no matter how many homophobic laws you enact. You can’t build and supervise enough fences to keep us apart, so you’d best learn to live with life the way it is. Don’t let your over-blown self-importance destroy you; you are most assuredly not the only people on the planet.

Else, the Natives may decide to build their own fence, and deport all of us from THEIR country! You know what? If that were to happen, I’d bet you’d find that you like Mexico a whole lot more than you thought…

Brazos Mason

Brazos River Beat: The UFO Report

July 27, 2010--The UFO Report: Well, here it is another night has gone by, and I have no alien contacts to report. Nothing stranger sighted than my son-in-law, who, come to think of it, is most likely stranger than any extraterrestrial I’ll ever meet. When I asked him how he was, he replied, “Compared to what?” When queried about what we were having for supper (I live my daughter and him), he said, “I don’t know, but whatever it is, I’m spitting in it.” Anyway, I’m sure you get the picture, and I’m also sure that he is a life form all his own. The genetic code in his ancestry must have broken down somewhere.

I digress, let’s get back to “ordinary” UFO’s, shall we? I am among the number of people who firmly believe in the existence of the presence of life in the stars; we are not alone, say I. Though I feel no need to defend my beliefs, let me assure you that I have reason to believe as I do. I have a sighting of my own, for one thing. When I was a young lad of about 12 or 13, I was playing outside one night (yes, back then children used to still “play” when they were 12 or 13, ask your grandpa if you don’t believe me) when a somewhat yellowish light blossomed in the northern sky, and there in the center of that light a tiny cigar or disc shaped object appeared for a few scant seconds; then POOF!, it disappeared, taking the strange light with it. I was frozen to the spot for a bit; then, when the shock wore off, I ran inside and told my dad about it. “Ahuh,” he said, “must’ve been one of them flying saucers!” And then he stuck his nose back into the book he was reading, and never mentioned it again…

But there you have it, a lifetime of belief begun on one summer’s night. I am now old and wrinkled, but that light and that image are still burned in my memory as if it happened just yesterday. There are many other reasons to believe in life on other worlds; reasons that some would say are even better than a young boys sighting. The sheer mathematical probabilities, for instance. We puny earthlings have no way of even estimating how many stars there are, but we do know they number in trillions upon trillions. To assume that all life was born on one little planet is to ignore the odds, and any casino will tell you the futility of that. Besides the fact that they always come out on top, they are not even dealing with the magnitude of numbers we are in the planetary life game; one can only wonder what kind of odds they would give on money bet on existence. Something like 1/1000000000000000000000000000000000000~…? Notice I said “on existence”, not on “finding proof of existence” in our lifetimes. Given the fact that we are constantly trying to kill ourselves, none of us are likely to live long enough to ever meet any extraterrestrials. It remains a dream of mine, however. Someday I hope to be able to shake the hand of a living entity from another world, or draw my sword and do battle with him, or whatever. Even if it kills me, I will rest in peace, because I will finally, finally KNOW!

But, you know what really, really, bugs me? It’s that some of you vain people who only believe in life on Earth, probably meet aliens everyday, and don’t even know it. Shame on you…

Brazos Mason