Published Sept. 16th

We seem to have lost all sense of common sense as we see a huge debate raging on whether or not to practice the left hook on the wife and beat the living daylights out of the kids. Common sense would tell one that neither of those activities stands a chance of turning out well. I suggest potential victims put cameras in the home wired to a security company. If two folks are spitting and fuming on a public elevator only God knows what’s going on at the house. As for the Middle East, it’s like watching that old game show, “Who Do You Trust”. And while I was going to make a prediction on Israel vs Hamas for the Middle Eastern Championship it seems we have a winner, Israel, and a loser, Jimmy Carter. Seems the more things change, the more they stay the same. I don’t claim to have a degree in whatever one studies to be an “expert” in foreign affairs but I do know you do not mess with God’s people. As for the other issues over there, the only good news is watching the Fox News girls talk about it. “I have lusted in ma’ heart” but learned a lot about the price of oil. Well, enough of that. Let’s talk about something that affects us all, something closer to home and that would be the “floater” (s). Not what you think. A true floater is something that can wreck your confidence, your sleep, your marriage, and your sanity and I’m sure Middle Eastern folks have these things as well as seen through the burqa. 

Maybe that’s something we can have in common besides a love of rocketry and explosives.  The floater can appear at any time but prefers a little light with a little black background. When conditions are right, the floater can appear as a spider, ant, Uncle Bob, or Aunt Jesse. It can drift across the eyeball at a most inopportune time and disappear somewhere in the corner of the eye only to reappear when least expected. Floaters can appear as gnats or mosquitoes when you’re playing golf and about to drain the big one for a dollar. I once watched a reputable three handicapper swat a floater and miss a three foot putt in one of those fundraising golf tournaments.  He asked for a “do-over” on the putt and was handed a can of bug spray. But seriously, it cost him a dollar. The after bedtime floater can appear as a mouse on the venetian blinds or a large spider on the pillow. I’ve been sleeping with the same person for thirty-four years off and on with the floater only recently entering our boudoir, a place reserved for those special nights that one cannot remember without hypnosis. We generally sleep soundly after “Words with Friends” which we play against each other (she likes to keep four games going at the same time so she can beat me “really good”), separated by a pillow and whichever dog decides he/she can claim the middle of the bed. Sleep eventually comes and the floater enters my side of the bed around one or two in the morning, and hangs in the air above the wife and dog.

 I don’t have any idea how long this thing is hanging there before I sit up, drugged with sleep aids, but he’s large, agile, threatening and his web seems to extend to D.C. where I’m sure they have their share of illusions. I seem to be the only person/pet in the room that can see this thing and so I grab the wife and scream some incoherent nonsense while holding her down for protection (mine). If the thing is going to get anyone it’s going to be her and I don’t want her going anywhere. She then treats me like the fool I am for thinking there could possibly be a large spider hanging over the bed and asks if I’ve had a Tylenol PM or what! She knows when I take a couple of those on a full supper pre-bedtime, all bets are off. Throw in a glass of wine or three and Katy-bar-the door! Getting up to relieve the old prostate is a day at the beach compared to fighting the floaters on sleep aids.

Published August 5th

There is no doubt that sports dominates our culture right now. Tiger’s injured back, Farve’s jersey retirement, some NFL guy knocking out his wife. These things we Americans will definitely pay close attention to. It’s the first thing we click on when going to the internet while world affairs seem to take a back seat. So how do we get folks, particulary young ones, to become more interested in international goings on? Why just turn the goings on into sporting events! Something on which one can place a bet, make a predition, shed a tear when a loss comes or wreck some cars and break some shop windows when a team wins! It could go like this.  I was going to make a prediction on this year’s Israel vs. Hamas Middle Eastern Championship but it looks like it’s going to end in another dreadful tie, (think soccer), a winner never  decided. I honestly thought we had a chance of winning it all this year but as I write this today it looks like another losing season or at best batting 250. One could lose money for the next hundred years placing wagers on this thing. Oh, don’t get me wrong, I would love to vent an opinion about Israeli versus Hamas but I live in Georgia, USA and have never scouted either team. I do like the Israelis and in fact have a cousin who used to play on the Israeli team. She told me they begin training early for the championship and are required to do two years minimum on a local farm club (every town has one) to get ready for it. She’s retired now, raising three children, trying to make ends meet with her husband, who is a Presbyterian or something or other and doesn’t play. She said the Israeli teams of the past have been mostly defence oriented with self-defense, civil defense, CPR, and First Aid as the hallmarks of the coaching philosophy. This year’s team seems to be more offensive although I believe they’re about to pull their team off the field, as hard as that is to believe. Shoot, I thought for once we were going to actually see a winner over there. I think she’s enjoying not being on the team anymore, content to raise a family in a safer, less competitive environment. She still follows the team though and says she wishes there were more reliable scouting reports coming from Washington. That would make sense to me also. Seems like if we’re going to sponsor that team we need to be honestly informed as to our chances of fielding a winner. We’ve been through so many general managers since 47’ it’s hard to keep up. Truman, Eisenhower, Kennedy just to name a few. And as far as the coaching saff over there goes, I wish we could keep one for more than a few years. We’ve had twelve since 48’ with a few getting fired and rehired several times. No way to develop a winning franchise if you ask me. The Israeli team is beginning to bore a lot of assistant GM’s also and the Hollywood crowd is frankly ready to sell. I suppose you can’t blame them, with the cost of fielding the team going up every year and failure to produce a real winner since 1967. One has to admit that we’ve provided the team with the best equipment possible in the last few years, resulting in most other teams leaving our Isreli team alone. Probably a smart move on their part. When you’re the champ, sponsors are easy to come by and the money just rolls in. And you can’t beat that New York media.  I am concerned about the bickering that’s been going on between Coach Netanyahu and assistance GM Kerry. Kerry getting smacked around by the entire Israeli coaching staff doesn’t look good to potential draftees in 2015. Heads need to roll but where does one start? Let’s face it, it’s all about wining tradition and with Israel versus Hamas we have one of the best in history.  So let’s stop settling for ties in the game and do what we need to do to bring home a winner!

August 19th Published

I’m writing this from a safe, comfortable porch, surrounded by glass with a view of a calm neighborhood near the beautiful Gulf of Mexico and if I could, I would get down on my knees (they’re worn out) and thank God for a safe, calm place in which to work. I would thank Him for two parents who had opportunity and instilled in me the will/ability to become educated, think for myself, lead more than follow, guide others in thought, work with wonderful people and enjoy family. I could no more let someone with a bullhorn tell me what to do than spit across the Gulf. But it’s amazing to me how many of us are forced to do just that. I have a moral compass, instilled in me by a father who worked long hours as a policeman and still found the time to let me know I was loved and watched talked to and laughed with and watched again. And, if I listen carefully, which sometimes I do not, the compass he gave me will keep me on a true north path. He was the most ethical non-church goer I’ve ever known and the “still small voice” I hear comes as much from him as it does from God, which is important to know. But I digress. What we see in Ferguson, is a missed opportunity by people with no leadership. They are disenfranchised, leaderless, disillusioned, confused and very frustrated people with no hope. They get up every morning of every day in the same state of hopelessness and when something like the Brown shooting gives them the ability to be heard, they take it. They know that when all is said and done, when the police leave, when the trial is over (if there is one) when the positive remarks of Captain Johnson of the State Police are no longer there to be heard they will once again be in the same economic and educational state they were in before it all began.  Their lives are filled with fear of what tomorrow will bring, an uncertainty about their future and that of their children, a “heat” that only living in their environment can bring in August and constant worry about loved ones unprotected. They follow anyone with a bullhorn, anyone with an idea for a way out, temporary though that may be, it is a respite from what tomorrow must bring. The knowing that tomorrow will be as today is, filled with despair. They look for identity, a way to be different among the crowd they secretly cannot trust but must live within for there is no way out. A tattoo, a symbol, a way of dressing, anything to set them apart to say, this is who I am, I am different and not the way you see me. The mothers weep for their children, worry, anguish fills their lives as they see that generation after generation has seen no way out. Leadership comes but it’s not enough. Churches are filled but somehow the message is missed and what is that message?  Self-reliance is preached but somehow there is no help from an absent father who is seeking his own respite. And so it goes until the next incident when there is opportunity to once again say, “Here we are, we need help but from where will it come?” There is no MLK and there does not appear to be one on the horizon, only opportunists.  And so, in mass, they are confronted with police who have no choice but to follow orders to restore order and so-called leaders who feed them to the wolves for ratings and personal gain. The shooting of Michael Brown, justified or not, was an opportunity for voices to be heard, not sirens, fears to be assuaged, not increased,  hate to be starved, not fed , grievances to be addressed not addresses looted. The slogan, “No justice no peace” is as much a cry for attention for the young black male’s plight as anything else. It says, “You leave us no choice, no way out and we want to be heard.”  The most important single element in the life of a young male, black or white is the father. We thought we were smart when we said, “It’s not the quantity of time we spend with our sons, it’s the quality”. Remember that little tidbit of B.S.? Do not be deceived. A son needs to know dad is somewhere in the house every time he comes home, regardless of the hour, to put that still small voice in a young man who is unaware that, as President Obama told the Iraq’s, “The wolf is at the door.” Perhaps he should have saved that analogy for Ferguson.

It Only Takes One

Yes, we turned five guys loose whose sole mission in life is to kill us. We’re going to trust Qatar for one year as to where they are and what they are doing. But, not to worry, if they’re doing something John Kerry deems inappropriate he will simply have them eliminated. I’m fine with the last part of the deal but I wonder what we’re thinking turning these five loose in the first place. Will you explain to me what it is they do for a living? Will they go back to being plumbers, electricians, cab drivers or perhaps a teacher in a college classroom somewhere? What was it they did in the years before they were discovered plotting and in some cases carrying out crimes against humanity? How does one go from being a killer to once again fixing faucets? It seems as though the latter would be very boring after the former. Did they learn to love us while spending time at Gitmo? After all, they had dentists, doctors, nutritionists and others looking after their every need for ten plus years. Perhaps they changed their minds about us. 

Maybe they want to explore capitalism, democracy or some other American way. Is it possible that, after additional rehabilitation, a writing career or the lecture circuit is in the cards? Our retired politicians and those wanting to get ahead use this approach all the time. Maybe a stint as a political reporter or being a panelist on a news program would fill their desire to be more involved politically. Sometimes people such as these just want to be loved. Who knows…conversion to the Catholic faith, the missionary fields? How about working at the Carter Center? With a clean slate and the forgiveness available through the protestant church, building houses for Habitat for Humanity would put their carpentry skills to work not to mention their expertise with explosives when land needed to be cleared. No, the truth is they will have none of this because their mission, what really rings their bells and makes their day complete is the killing of innocents, and the controlling of every aspect of other peoples’ lives. Now that is something in which they can get excited. So when someone tells us that they will be good boys, going home and becoming productive members of society, I just cannot swallow it.  And if only one in three re-enter the world of terrorism, which one of those five will it be? Who will be the innocent victim of the “one”? Will it be the couple at the outdoor café, the innocent little girl walking home from a day at the market, or a party of wedding goers celebrating after the ceremony?

 Remember, one of these guys will not turn and relishes the thought of once again bringing his brand of “justice” to those who will have none of it. It’s that one, the one for whom rehabilitation was just time spent eating more good food, the one who thinks he can change the world by blowing it up. He’s the one I worry about… 

The one who doesn’t understand the awesomeness of a sunset seen with family, three dogs whose love is unconditional and a grandson who enjoyed his little red wagon yesterday.  He’s the one, and it only takes one. But we all know he’s not the only one.  Yes, Mr. Kerry believes all but one of those sent to Qatar will retire to lives filled with love and humanitarian efforts on behalf of the world. His view is simply foolish and he fails to see that they know nothing but mayhem and carnage in a world we should be out of as soon as possible. I failed to mention that a cooking show might be an option for one of the four but…naw, wouldn’t work out. What could they possibly have on the menu?