...About Our Society's Stupidity.

Sorry I've been away so long. I'm back now. And I've got something to say. 

It has gotten to the point anymore where I wonder just how much more we, as a Society, can take. Our country is on the verge of blowing up. Not because of the current pending political elections; though that doesn't help much of anything. Not because of the wars we have been deeply lost in for the last decade-plus. Not because American Idol can't seem to keep judges anymore (like I give a damn!). But because we have gotten to the point that we will allow and accept anything. We are so damned concerned with what some poor, mealy-mouthed, cry-baby pansy is going to say, we let ourselves become foolish-looking to the rest of the world. 

I have a vision; it goes like this:  George and Larry (someone will get offended if I say "Achmed and Abdul") are sitting on their mats in the sand. 
George: We should attack America. 
Larry: Are you crazy?! That's ludicrous! 
George: Why?? 
Larry: Because America is the land of the free and the home of the brave. They will kill us!! 
George: It will never happen... they will be too concerned about hurting our feelings. 
Larry:  Oh. OK, let's do it. 

But, I digress! 

Here is an actual story from today's newspaper here in Florida: 

A 43-year-old woman was arrested for throwing a cup of Coke in her husband's face. The incident occurred Oct. 13 at a Plympton Road residence. According to an Okaloosa County Sheriff's Office arrest report, the two, who have been married for 17 years, became involved in an argument. During the argument, the woman threw a cup of Coke on her husband, "causing the liquid to strike the victim in the face, neck, and chest area," the deputy wrote in the report.

The woman was charged with misdemeanor battery and has a Nov. 6 court date. 

WHAT THE HELL???? Are you kidding me? THAT is an arrest-able offense??!! If my wife did that to me, we'd "play wrestle" and end up laughing like hyenas. Last summer she pushed me into our pool fully clothed! Obviously she should have been sentenced to the electric chair!! 

Here's another I found: 

A Brooklyn graffiti artist was reportedly caught in the act last week, and a neighbor reported the tagging incident to authorities, who then sent a warning letter to the alleged criminal. The catch? The perp was a six-year-old girl drawing with sidewalk chalk on her parents' stoop. If officials choose to take action, the family could face up to a $300 fine. 

Some absolute, total jackass reported that little girl! When I was a kid, lo, these MANY years ago, my mom was generally glad we didn't write on the walls and cut each others' pinkies off! I suppose sidewalk chalk was actually meant to be used in the toilet. 

Yet another one: 

A ten-year-old girl was arrested last month because of what she brought for lunch. When teachers saw that the student had brought a steak knife in her lunch (for the odious purpose of cutting her steak), they reportedly called law enforcement officials, who arrested the girl. Sources note that the fifth grader rode in a patrol car and was handed weapons charges, since having knives on school property is against school policy.  

This poor 10-year old will be scarred for life. Every boy who takes her on a date to a steak restaurant will have to deal with a screaming banshee when the silverware roll is opened! I hear that screeching music from Psycho... scree*scree*scree*scree*scree*scree!  

My point is this: If we, the "Silent Majority" don't retake control of this country and invite the really, really stupid people to shut up and sit down, we are going to get to the point that if you spank your child, you will be arrested, charged with assault, and likely lose your child. WAIT!!!!  TOO LATE! 

I am sick to damn death of having the worthless, whiny-baby, politically correct pansies tell us what we can and can't do now. I get the whole ABUSE concern; and that's NOT what I'm talking about. I'm talking about allowing children (and those not smarter than) to run how we, as grown, God-fearing adults will be governed. 

When I win the lottery, I'm buying an island. And the invitation list ain't very long. 

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...About Talent

I have never cared much for American Idol. It is a bit too ridiculous for my taste. I'm not into the "hollering'" singing that seems to be the preferred type of talent on that show. I'm far more impressed by controlled, effective singing.
Some older folks will remember the movie "My Fair Lady." Rex Harrison, the boorish guy performing the transformation, is one of the great actors of all time. He couldn't sing a note -- couldn't carry a tune in a bucket. How could he star in a musical? He was so good at acting, he was able to train to "yell at certain pitches at a specific time." Now that impresses me. That American Idol hollerin' singin' doesn't do it for me.   But.... I digress!

I do like the show The Voice. It is a good show. I like the concept that the people are judged sight-unseen first and foremost. That's pretty cool.

What does impress me is the amount of varied talent on America's Got Talent. I am all about that show. I will say that I'm glad Piers Morgan is gone and I'm liking Howard Stern as a judge (hate him any other time). The show is absolutely great!  If not for this show, so many, many, many talented people would never have a shot at being seen.
The other night, one act was 10 bicycle daredevils racing across the stage, ramping, spinning, whirling, and flipping at the same time! Wow! Age range - 20-44 years old. A 16 year old girl doing an acrobatic dance; a middle-aged nursing home worker who sings opera for his residents; a young, misunderstood, confused Goth guy who sings like a canary - all falsetto!  These people have talent. And there are tons of them.
Remember Landau Eugene Murphy, Jr from last year?  40-something years old, scraping by working at a car wash - comes out and sings Frank Sinatra tunes like.... like.... like Frank Sinatra! He was outstanding. (Even I phoned in and voted for him!)
Some of them are, as you'd expect, pitiful. I suppose when there are several thousand wanting a chance at every venue they visit, a couple hundred of them will be less-than-stellar. It is also unfortunate that there are probably many more who are great that we never get to see.
But what a great show. No ridiculously over-stupid drama. No foolish sit-com. A little bit of cheese once in a while, but for the most part - talent.
It is very warming to my heart to feel that this country, trying as hard as it can to fall apart, still has talent. Good, real, generally humble, God-given talent.

I just have to believe that if we had more shows like this - ones that showcase the good things over the bad - this world might be a little bit better place. It won't solve all the problems, but it just might make us all feel a little better, and I think that's a good place to start.

Keep it going, America's Got Talent!!!!



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...About Florida Drivers

Over my lifetime, I've gotten pretty used to people always making fun of the way people drive in Alabama. Truth be told, I've done more than my share of complaining about Alabama drivers, too. I remember once, many years ago, riding with my buddy Bill. We used to ride all over town. Hours of just riding.
Bill had a '71 Ford Pinto, bright yellow in color. We used to talk about painting the word Sunkist on the side of it. Instead, we just put a Cherry Bomb straight pipe and some racing stripes on it. We used to use that car like some kind of dune buggy! We'd be riding along some back road between Can and Can't and spot some small dirt trail off the side of the main street. Well of course we had to turn off and follow it. One such excursion took us across a small creek and up a dirt bike trail toward the top of some really steep hill. Now notice I said "toward" the top - not "to" the top. A high steep wall on the driver's side and a sheer drop off on the other made it very precarious. Naturally, my side was "the other." We got almost to the top of Mount Whatareyouthinking when the front right side of the car seemed to drop several feet and we ground to a halt. Bill says, "Uh oh... open your door and see how much room we have over there." After a breath, I opened the door and looked straight...... down. Down! I don't mean "kinda at some angle that was in a downward slope." I mean STRAIGHT, 90 degrees, oh-dear-Lord-what-were-we-thinking DOWN!  The right front wheel had dropped over the side! All I could say was, "There ain't no room over here and if you come this way we will die." We ended up BACKING the car down the slope at about 3 inches per hour. I swear, sometimes I don't know how we lived this long.   But...... I digress!
So Bill and I were riding in the Pinto and came to a point where one road joined another. It merged with the other, more heavily trafficked street. A lady in a car in front of us, like so many will, pulled up to the YIELD sign and came to a stop. And she stayed, and she stayed, and she stayed. Finally, Bill rolls down his window and screams, "C'MON LADY! IT SAYS 'YIELD' - NOT SURRENDER!!"  I thought I would wet my pants.
So, yes, Alabama has some challenged drivers.
BUT! Never, in my life, have I EVER seen drivers as ridiculously stupid as those in Florida. As many of you know, my wife and I recently moved to the Navarre/Fort Walton Beach area. Every morning, I drive 19 or 20 miles to work with some of the most inconsiderate, unknowing, uncaring, self-centered Bozos I have ever seen! Traffic is very heavy - period. Many times, if you are sitting in a line that is constantly moving at no more than 14 MPH, you feel good. At least it's moving. If there is an accident, forget it. Add 20 - 30 minutes to your drive. But the most aggravating thing is when you are finally moving along at 45 MPH. Everyone is settled at the same speed. The flow is moving like a full river winding to the ocean. Then - IT happens. Some jerk wants to enter the traffic from a side street or business. They pull up to the street, and with no concern for anyone else, will jump into a 6 foot gap between two cars traveling at 45 MPH. Do you think for one split instant that THEY kick that mule to reach 45 and make life smooth? NO! They will poke along at about 25 while hundreds of people behind them are headed to the ditch or the median to avoid an accident. Any wave of thanks? Are you crazy? You OWE them the opportunity to jump in front of you. Geez, Louise!
And then there are those who are already in the flow, but are not satisfied with the pace of the flow. Everyone knows that it's gonna come to a stop. You can move along at a little pace, but in a minute, it's gonna slow back to the paint-drying crawl. It just happens. Everybody knows and accepts this. The jerk is the one who starts jumping in between every car around him to get ahead of "all these slow idiots."  Then, for me, it becomes personal! You wanna take that lane because you think you're gonna get ahead of me? HA! I know for a fact that lane will come to a STOP in a second because of the Elementary School up there on the right! And then YOU will want to jump back over here with us patient folks to scoot by?? You won't get back in here! I will MAKE you live with that choice! Bwahahahaaaa!!
And then later, as we get to the next portion of the commute, "that guy" is in the rear-view mirror about 8 cars back. He never does catch up. And I take pleasure in that. I probably shouldn't. But I do. Are you that important, that you think you should not have to live in the traffic but I should? I think not! Besides, as a friend used to say, what's the big thrill of winning the poll position at the next traffic light?
But I have begun to believe there are more Alabama drivers here than I thought, because with all of my aggravation and "child-like" responses to these people who drive the way they do, I have noticed that many, many other drivers are retaliating against these inconsiderates by doing the same thing!
We shall teach you Floridians how to drive if it kills you!!


Rant over... for now.

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...About Social Media

I fancy myself a pretty hip guy. I wear clothes that are at least from the last 5 years or so. I can speak some of that lingo them young folks speak. I am past words like "groovy" and "right on, daddio."  I can use words like "sweet!" and "word!"  I am on Facebook. My daughter pulled one of those "Wow, you finally came out of the dinosaur world!" when I started. I have a Droid phone and even know how to text! I must admit, if you're anywhere near my age, there are so many things now that we find we can't live without - though we did for most of our lives. You've all seen the list, so I'll hit only a few highlights:
WE were the remote for the TV. Dad would say, "Get up and change that to channel 6."
The phone was a wired device that either hung on the kitchen wall, or was on the nightstand in Mom & Dad's bedroom.
A calculator was about as big as a small paperback novel and only did four functions.
Email - forget it. A stamp on a hand-written letter or postcard.
Spell check was Sister Johanna and a ruler!

You get my point.  But, as always... I digress!

I have no idea what this world of ours has come to. We can't function without Social Media sites. As I say, even I am on Facebook. I asked my dad if he ever thought about getting on Facebook. He said, "What the hell's Facebook?" I told him, "You can keep up with what all your friends are doing." Being 80, my dad said, "If I wanna know what somebody's doing, I pick up the damn phone and call 'em." That would be the phone on the nightstand in his room.

But what kills me more than anything else about any of the sites is how people tell you every single cotton-pickin' move they make!  I love my family and friends, so I won't name them here (you know who you are!), but this is a normal day:
Joe Smith (see how that's a fictitious name?) is at Place of Employment.
Joe Smith is at Applebee's having lunch.
Joe Smith is at Bob's Daycare - picking up little Joe.
Joe Smith is at The Grocery Store - picking up something for dinner.
Joe Smith is at home.
Joe Smith is watching NCIS.
Joe Smith is going to bed - "Goodnight FB friends!" (REALLY??)
On and on and on and on and on. I expect to see ones that say things like:
Joe Smith is in the bathroom.
Joe Smith is out of the bathroom.
Joe Smith just sprayed Lysol - love that Applebee's! 
Aaarrrgghhh!
Another one I don't get are those who tell you every move on their vacation. After about their fifth post, when they tell me they and the fam are finally in Nebraska "looking forward to 6 days of relaxation", I want to write a note that says, "I am on my way to break into your house - thanks for the heads up!!"

And then there are the abbreviations. Holy Crap! Something ELSE I have to learn! It was OK at first. LOL and ROTFLMAO I was able to grasp. Then they added OMG! and SMH. Now I got OMG pretty quickly, but I gotta tell you, it took me a while to get SMH. (I'm gonna help some of you oldies -- SMH is Shaking My Head. Ssshhh! Act like you've known all along.)  And there are many others. And for the life of me, I don't get the use of (#) before a statement.  "#I'llnevergetthere."  WHAT?? 

I still contend that with all this technology, there are too many problems still remaining. For example, why in the world can't I ever have a cell phone conversation with my wife without the dang signal dropping??!! "I went---- Debbie's and she---- that her---- open---- ibk---- opor---------------" *beep* Dropped call. 

Maybe I'm not as hip as I thought I was. Maybe I'm just not hip enough to get it. We can send a man to the moon in a rocket. He can drive around on the moon in a car. He could probably post a Tweet on the moon. He can even play golf on the moon, and get back in the rocket and come back to Earth - but I can't talk to my wife on the damn cell phone in the same city!! 

SMH




.

...About the Preacher and the Flood

In the small town of Elizabethtown, called "Etown," in upstate New York, there was a transplanted preacher. When I say he was transplanted, I mean that he was originally from the South. He was one of those "Hell & Damnation, Fire & Brimstone" kinda country preachers.

Now if you've never witnessed one of these types of preachers, it is an eye-opening, seat-riveting, "cheek-clinching" experience - something one might call a "knitting needle of a moment." I'm neither knocking nor endorsing one religion over another, I'm just sayin'. You generally find one of these preachers in a place like The Antioch Freewill Southern Baptist Church of Smuteye, Alabama. It is a sermon filled with Bible-thumping, Bible-waving, Bible-banging, and a red-in-the-face, short-of-breath, no-pauses-in-his-delivery chastising for the sins of the church members. It might go a little like this:
"...And we must leeaarrnnn, uh-huh, that the way of the Loooord, uh huh, is the pathwayyyy, uh huh, that we must folloooowww, uh huh, to get into those Heavenly gaaaaaates, uh huh, to see the face of the Looooooord, uh huh, and that He will not entertaaaiiiin, uh huh, a meeting with thoooooose, uh huh, who have the committed the siiiiiin, uh huh, of the liquor..." 
And, of course, every statement is loudly approved by "A-meyen!"      But... I digress!

So this preacher had been transplanted to Etown, some rumored because of a transgression that had been brought out into the light making it time to "hear God's calling and move up yonder to save those devil-filled souls up North."
After one of those particularly normal winters with 3-4 feet of snow, the Spring thaw brought the expected flooding. And so this preacher found himself witnessing quite a rising of the waters. As the waters rose, the preacher was on his front porch. The steps were covered with moving water lapping at the porch. A local man waded by in his chest waders pulling a john boat with a rope. The man sees the preacher on his porch and comes over and says, "C'mon, Preacher, climb in and I'll get you to high ground."
The arrogant preacher tells the man, "I don't need you! The Lord will take care of me!"
And so the man walked along his way.

A bit later, the preacher is on his roof, the water now moving faster and lapping at the eaves. Another man in a motor boat comes to the preacher and says, "Climb in, Preacher! We've got to get you outta here!"
To which the preacher again replies, "You can go, I don't need you! The Lord will take care of me!"
And the man motors away.

Some time passes, and the preacher is perched on the top of his chimney, water rushing around his ankles. A helicopter hovers overhead, drops a rope ladder and the speaker blares, "Grab the ladder, Preacher! We'll save you!"
The unflappable preacher shakes his fist and yells, "Be on your way! The Lord will take care of me!"
And the helicopter moves off in the wind.

In a little while, the preacher is at the Pearly Gates with St. Peter demanding to speak with the Lord. In a flash of light, the Lord is standing in front of the preacher. "What is it, my son?"
The preacher says, "Lord, I had faith in you that the waters were not to hurt me. I have been a good servant, and saved the souls of the people in Etown, but you let me be swallowed up by the floods. Why, Lord?"
The Lord looks at the preacher and says, "I sent you two boats and a helicopter - what else did you want?!"

At least, that's how they tell the story.


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...About Commercials

Well... it's here. A day many people wait for like the coming of a newborn. A day filled with the anticipation of what might be. It's Superbowl Sunday! And of course, Superbowl Sunday brings the new, multi-million dollar commercials we've awaited with bated breath.  [And just what is "Bated Breath?" The dictionary says: bated: intransitive verb - 1. reduced force or intensity; restrained.  So awaiting with bated breath would describe holding our breath to see the result. You're welcome.] 

I worked for a long number of years in video production for the military. Our purpose was to produce informative safety-related products for use in the military. The ultimate goal, of course, was to reinforce an established policy with a very clear, concise message. As a result, I am probably overly critical of commercials and the message they deliver; more importantly, "what are they selling?"

A black and white commercial comes on. There are images of something resembling young people scampering on the beach at night - all done with a flashlight and "shaky-cam" technique; cut to a balloon floating up through the trees; cut to fireworks exploding in a smoky sky; cut to a close up of young lovers licking each other in the mouth; cut to some innocuous banner they're holding that says something stupid - "Viva la grass blade" ---- What the hell are they advertising?? Levi's Jeans!! Not once in the commercial do we see jeans!  I must be too old.

Here's a new one: Three people are sitting at a table at McDonald's. He's taking a picture of his breakfast to post on Facebook or some damn thing. His friends accuse him of being an "over poster." He tells the girl he tagged her - made her the hotcakes - she is wooed. What part of that commercial, in any shape form or fashion, makes me want to go to McDonald's and have breakfast?  None. Not one milli-second of hunger pangs. 

There are two basic types of commercials. One is long-range name recognition; the other is a call for immediate action. I get that. A commercial that says, "The Three Day Sale - Come in Now!" is a call to immediate action. If you want it, NOW is the time to get it. The long-range name recognition is, "I want something to eat... hey, let's get some breakfast at McDonald's." I get that one, too. I'm just less likely to sit and run through the commercials in my head to make a menu choice.

I like commercials that are message-driven. I like knowing what the product is, seeing what they have to say, and deciding if I want a part of it.  What I can't stand is commercials that yell at me!!  Some crazed lunatic voice screaming that "RIGHT NOW IS THE TIME TO GET THAT WIDGET YOU'VE DREAMED OF - AT A FRACTION OF THE COST! HURRY IN NOW! IT WON'T LAST LONG!!" Thank the good Lord. We can only HOPE it won't last long.

When I first started in radio, some 34 years ago, I was mentored by a great guy named Doc. He molded me into a pretty darn good announcer. One of his lessons was, "Never start a commercial with a question.  It gives people the opportunity to instantly make a negative choice."  To this day, my TV watching is filled with those who ask a ridiculous question as the opening. "Are you looking to buy a new home?"  Nope! *click*      But... I digress!

All of this is to say that today is that day when some of the great commercials will be introduced. They are long-range name identifier commercials - but they are (usually) good. I think one of my most favorites is from a couple of years ago. Fed-Ex did the commercial where the caveman is trying to send a bone via carrier pterodactyl. When his boss fires him for not using Fed-Ex - which hasn't been invented yet - he kicks the "dog" and is then stomped by a mastodon!  I LOVE IT! I don't know why. Probably because of the high-end quality; the humor of the caveman's conversation; and the unexpected ending.   And of course, Budweiser will ALWAYS have hit commercials. They are great because they tug at your Americana heart strings. I mean, really, Clydesdales and Dalmations - it's like kittens and puppies. And of course, some of the commercials are memorable because sexiness goes a long way to keep a viewer's interest. (Male point of view now ended.)

I hope I'm not disappointed in today's commercials. There have been some through the years where I wondered what the client was thinking when they spent millions on commercial air time for that crappy commercial.

But for now, Here We Go, it's time to Be All That You Can Be, because You Deserve a Break Today!

"Honey! Bring on the chips and dip! The commercials are starting!"
Oh, and by the way, there is supposed to be some football game on, too! 


Here's the Fed Ex commercial!!  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=64PWX_GwVQk
.

...About Westport

I am a Southern boy. I was born and raised in Birmingham; I've lived in several other areas - all in the southeast; have been in south-central Alabama for the last 20 years; and will, one day, move to Florida. I lived in Memphis for 2 years, which was as far north as I've ever lived - probably will always be the case. I've traveled to many areas across this great country. I've been fortunate enough to visit places like Miami, and Atlanta, and New York City, and Nashville, and Idaho, and Utah, and Hawaii, and Dallas/Ft. Worth, and Louisiana - and a bunch of places in between. But, I've always liked the South. Specifically, I've always liked Alabama. I've always found it to be home in spite of all the bad press we get. "You know the best thing about Alabama? It ain't Mississippi!"  That kind of thing.  "You know why birds fly upside-down in Georgia? 'Cause there ain't nothin' worth crappin' on in Georgia!"  Yuk it up, boys. For those of my friends who are not from this part of the world, you need to know there truly is a difference between a Good Ol' Boy and a Redneck. A Good Ol' Boy is an easy-going, sometimes slow-talking, mostly well-mannered-'cause-Granny-would-get-a-switch fella who will help pull your car out of the ditch.  A Redneck is generally the same - EXCEPT - he will call you stupid and make fun of your Yankee butt for not knowing how to drive and getting your car in the ditch in the first place! Both will say, "Gimme a beer and let's get this done."  At least that's MY many years of experience. I get along with, and am friends with both. You just have to know which one not to piss off!  (It won't take long to figure out which is which!)  But...... I digress! 

As I have told you before, my wife is originally from way upstate New York. Specifically, she is originally from Westport, NY.  Now when I say Westport is way upstate, I mean WAAAAY upstate! Downtown Westport is 63 miles from the Canadian border. It sits on Lake Champlain and you can spit across the narrow section into Vermont. ["See that over there? That's Vermont."]
Last summer, there was a huge reunion. It started as a Class of 1976 Reunion, but because everyone from the area was so close - across the age-barriers, it became a reunion for all the classes of the 1970s... and everyone else in the world. Now realize that the area is quite small, and all the classes of the 1970s combined would only be several hundred people. My wife and a handful of her friends put together a massive campaign to get everyone to come. And they did - from all over the country! There were a couple of hundred people there - many of whom hadn't seen each other in 35 years or more. There were classes represented from the 50s (YES! the 50s!) all the way to the 80s!! There were a couple of teachers, too! It was a magnificent event, of which I was honored to be a witness. People screamed, and then hugged, and then cried. It was beautiful.

The Town of Westport sits on beautiful Lake Champlain, nestled in the Adirondack Mountains. In Florida, they think Alabama has mountains. Here, we think Tennessee has mountains. Up yonder, they got real-live, honest to God mountains. And they are stunning. Driving south along 9N, on the way to have famous "Gene's Hot Dogs," you have a sheer cliff wall on your right and a drop-off into Lake Champlain on your left. To say I had my breath taken away many times is an understatement.

And the stories you hear these people tell of their childhood together is great. Pete, Ike, Jon, Reggie, Tim ("Chug" for obvious reasons!), Wanda, Steve, Denise, Barry, Debbie, Nancy, Judy, Laura, on and on and on - these people showed such a love for each other - AND shared that with an ol' boy from Alabama who'd never imagined this type of Norman Rockwell existence. Snow many feet deep, the lake frozen solid, a sled on the hill above the Library, and FLYING down the hill (mountain), dodging trees most of the time, out onto the Lake at somewhere near 200 MPH - depending on who you talk to. Breakfast is an absolute must at "Me and My Girls" restaurant. The coffee, the pancakes with REAL, local Maple syrup, and the stories flow from the moment you walk in until you waddle your over-stuffed butt back out. We were fortunate that a wonderful childhood friend of theirs, and now a dear friend of mine, Jon allowed us to stay with him. Hour after hour, day after day of fellowship and adventure. Sadly, all good things have to end, and we headed home.

There are so many, many more stories. So many, many wonderful people I'd like to name. But suffice to say, I was glad to get home. Home - where the sun is hot, the humidity is high, and we all have air conditioning! Up there, NO ONE has AC. There were 2 days of record heat and humidity while we were there. Upper 90s and medium-high humidity. They asked us, "How do you guys live in this?"  Our answer was simple - "Down there, we ALL have AC!"  They were finally in awe of us. 

As I said before, it was beautiful there. They are wonderfully sweet people, and I love them. But I love the south. I love being in the heat, because I love being in the pool. I love that they have many feet of snow and are home-bound for long periods, and we don't have to endure it. I want to go back, but always only to visit. 

I mean REALLY!  Those people leave their keys in their vehicles and don't ever lock their house doors... damn Yankees!

.