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Showing posts from August, 2016

How do you eat an entire elephant?

Five days a week, Joe and Joan Blow scoot across the leather seat of their $62,000 luxury SUV ready to go to work. They pride themselves on their 5600 square foot home and their four vehicles. On the armrest next to them is their morning healthy breakfast, a pair of nutritious and carbs-enhanced protein bars which cost 4 dollars each.Their appearance is very important to them, as is efficiency at work and this is why they will consume this healthy snack on the way to work instead of eating it when they should be working. They wouldn’t want their coworkers to think they are slackers.
The drive takes 11 minutes and exactly 6 minutes after they leave home, they toss the wrappers out the window of their lavish SUV, as they are quite serious about keeping the interior as clean as possible. After all, it did cost a lot of money.
10 minutes pass and along comes Mike and Martha Somebody out for their morning walk. They take their morning stroll very seriously, as they believe the key to long…

The Most Monstrous of Misleads

I was 14 when I began my work career and registered for my social security card. The year was 1965 and my family lived in Woodstock, Georgia. My younger brother was 13, and did likewise. This was before child labor laws changed, or heck, maybe not, as like I said, we loved in rural Georgia.
We were grocery sackers and worked Friday, Saturday, and Sunday for 3 five dollar bills. My Mom took one 5 from each of us every payday as room and board and this taught us there was no free ride in life.It was a valuable lesson that I’ve written about before and only a reference point.
My next job was at the local Tastee Freeze and each day after school and weekends, my same brother and I toiled in the kitchen, mopped floors, chopped onions, and took out the trash just to name a few of our duties. My mom exacted the same recompense as before and we had no choice but to pay it. Back in those days, there was no such notion as resisting your parents and I can truthfully say, I did not resent the man…

Rudeness Pays Mighty Small Dividends

The quickest way to cut off a conversation with me is to say something angry, arrogant, condescending, or rude.Do it to me and inwardly I wish I could be beamed up and gone. I don’t like it insinuated that I’m an idiot, or a jerk, or a (insert an expletive here).I wish I could write that I am blameless, because I’m not, but I do believe I earnestly try to be socially graceful.
Almost every issue of the Baytown Sun will reveal a letter to the editor concerning politics and how stupid someone is. Occasionally my name is specifically mentioned as being “unpatriotic, stupid, idiotic, a dolt, a joke, or uninformed”. I marvel at all of this, as its apparent these fine citizens are zealous, passionate, and worked up enough to pound out a letter to the community to, what? Defend their political views with good solid non-accusatory facts? Not for the most part. What they write appears angry and condescending almost every time and we the readers, if we actually read it, feel like we were just…

IF WE FAIL TO ELECT TRUMP, THE PARTY IS OVER!

This letter is a contribution from my SIL's grandfather.  He spent many years in Air Force intelligence working with the CIA and NSA and we are both columnists.
Sometimes I imagine that I’ve fallen into some deep crevasse miles from where my screams for help could ever be heard.
It’s sort of analogous to the hopeless feeling I got when I was forced to recognize just how many gullibles, ignorant dolts, mentally deficient ideologues, and morons there are that are registered to vote, and unfortunately for our beloved country, show up at the polls.
Eighteen-year olds should never have been given that right unless they were wearing a uniform. That said, it’s my opinion we’re at the crisis crossroads of my lifetime.
If we don’t find a way to blow a hole through ignorance, apathy, bigotry, stupidity and mental laziness to elect Trump even if it’s a perceived by-far the lesser of evils; the party, if there ever was one, is over and gone and my great-grand-kids and yours will be the ones to su…

We sink or we swim

Something Lindsey “Zeb” Wilcox told me when I was interviewing him has stuck with me these many years. He was one of the survivors of the WWII US Navy ship, the USS Indianapolis. If you remember, this is the ship that was torpedoed at the end of the war and had carried the components of the first atomic bomb. Of the crew of 1196 men, only 900 sailors went into the water. 5 days later the survivors were pulled to safety. Many succumbed to their injuries; out of desperation a good number drank salt water and went crazy. Zeb was one of the 317 that kept their wits and survived.
“The difference between those who died and me was I didn’t want to die. I didn’t give up hope. I had things I wanted to accomplish.” Zeb told me he had the same nightmare every night and would wake up sweating. He said one time a crazy-eyed sailor tried to choke him, thinking he was a Japanese soldier. Another suddenly spotted something deep in the ocean and dove down out of site, never again to resurface.
Fate …