Letters to the Editor
There is a hot subject in the current news about football that concerns how the game is played. This is the dangerous spear tackling characterized by hitting an opponent with the helmet aiming at his head and what can be done to stop the possible brain damage and carnage on football players.
The NFL has said that starting this Sunday (24 Oct. 2010) they will take measures against the offenders if they practice this barbaric, intentional act to maim an opponent. Some of the players will object because this will remove one of their weapons they use to try to win games. If they are more heavily fined or dropped from the team for multiple games, they will scream even louder.
There is a very simple thing that can be done by the officials which will put a stop to this practice in a single weekend and it will not affect the players’ livelihood by taking money from them in fines. All the officials have to do is to start imposing a 30 yard penalty against the team whose member uses the spear tackle.
A 15 yard penalty is obviously not sufficient to prevent the use of the spear tackle but I think the 30 yard penalty would be. This dangerous form of play appears to happen more often when an opponent gets onto the other team’s end of the field and especially when in or near the red zone. I think a 30 yard penalty would be effective at stopping intentional spear tackling because it would result in an automatic touchdown if it happens on a play starting 30 yards or less from the opponent’s goal line. Even further away it would greatly increase the opportunity to score a touchdown. This would immediately get the attention of the owners of the franchises because it would result in lost games and you can be very sure that they would take the necessary action to stop their players from ever using the spear tackle to stop an opponent.
If applied judiciously, It would become equivalent to throwing a boxer out of the ring for a low blow during a prize fight.
Sincerely yours,
Robert M. Mc Cully, Colonel (Ret. ) UFAF, V.C.
October 23, 2010
Commentary
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Cutie & Sweetie
We have two new inhabitants in our house. You see, after an unfortunate accident, our “beloved” housedog “Buster” passed away and with a young child in our home, it was understood that a new puppy was required. And of course “Doctor Fred” our veterinarian just happened to have a passel of pups for sale in his waiting room. (I don’t think it’s much of a coincidence that Doctor Fred also sells used cars.)
Now before I would agree to another pet, I made my daughter promise that she would be responsible and take care of it. I actually made her swear on a stack of three Bibles, had my attorney draw up a contract for her to sign and made her spit on her hand before we shook on it. While she picked out a single puppy that struck her fancy, I paid the vet bill for the previously deceased Buster and then wrote another check for the puppy. Little did I realize that the check writing was just beginning.
As we took “the sweetest little puppy in the world” home, (my daughter’s words not mine) the pup promptly wet on my car seat. When we got home, my wife was waiting for us, still teary-eyed and a bit melancholy about Buster but she did make the best of it. As anyone with a new pet would do, we sat in the floor to play with “the sweetest puppy in the world” that of course immediately wet on the rug. I should have known that I was in trouble when my wife didn’t get upset at this or the other mess that “Sweetie” was strategically leaving around the living room. In fact, Tracy seemed unusually calm and that should have been a warning sign of things to come.
Even though it was like closing the barn door after the horse got out, my daughter & I took the pup outside. As we sat on the steps and watched for any “activity”, I whiled away the time pondering the absurdity of the theory of evolution, not upon religious grounds but upon a review of my current situation. I mean when you consider that man has evolved from hunters, gatherers and graphic cave artists to the state at which I found myself (waiting in the hot sun for a dog to do her business), it doesn’t really lend much support to Darwin’s Theories.
After twenty minutes of no activity, “Sweetie” was brought back inside where she promptly wet in the foyer just inside the door. As my daughter so cheerfully cleaned up the mess, I realized that my wife was nowhere to be found & neither was the checkbook. I checked the garage and her car was gone. Thinking positively I reasoned that she had gone to get some high powered puppy food for “Sweetie”. You know the kind I’m talking about; it costs more per pound than rib eye steak & has “all the vitamins, minerals & roughage to make your puppy big & strong & poop a lot!”
It wasn’t much later that she came in the door holding “the cutest puppy in the world.”
“Sweetie needed a companion.” She said, “and besides it’s no more trouble to keep two than it is one.” Now I’ve been married for 17 years and even as slow-witted as I am, I know there are some battles that I can’t win. I wasn’t even going to fight this one. Sweetie was excited to see her sister, so excited in fact, that she wet on the rug again. Cutie decided to make it a group activity.
After much debate and at least one roll of paper towels, Sweetie & Cutie became Roxie & Chloe. Now a trip to Wal Mart was required to fulfill the “little darlings” needs. This included five pounds of that puppy food, two color coordinated collars, half a dozen squeaky toys, chew sticks, pig ears, Vidal Sassoon Dog Shampoo or equivalent, puppy pads, doggie perfume, nail polish, air freshener, carpet cleaner and industrial strength paper towels (they’re in the automotive department). Fortunately we already had a pet carrier.
Now I’ve had dogs all my life but most of them were outdoor critters that slept on the porch and chased rabbits when the urge hit them. Roxie & Chloe or “Pee & Poop” as I call them aren’t ever going to make it outside. Why any self- respecting rabbit would either die laughing at the sight of them or try to nurse them. So we were going to have to house train Pee & Poop – errr Roxie & Chloe. Now I had once house-trained a border collie in one day so I figured this shouldn’t be too hard; a rolled up newspaper and sharp voice should take care of this in short order. I discovered that these dogs have very little in common with border collies!
The first night, I think there were 47 little presents left for us throughout the house & this was before bedtime. We finally got them in their cage and quiet around midnight. By four o’clock the next morning, I couldn’t take the whining anymore. I did learn that my wife could actually laugh in her sleep when I told her that she needed to get up & take the puppies outside. Being the good father that I am and knowing that a ten year old needs her sleep, I didn’t bother to drag out my contract with my daughter and wake her with the details of Article IV, Section 1-5 of the fine print. Fortunately, our nearest neighbor is a quarter mile away, so still half asleep, I just slipped on my wife’s bathrobe, grabbed the “little darlings” and took them to the backyard. Instead of taking care of business as they should, they proceeded to make a mad dash for the woods behind our house. Calling them did no good as they were as confused about their names as I was and as some of the names I was calling them were not appropriate for mixed company, it’s just as well they didn’t respond.
Now we have a lot of coyotes in our area and as I didn’t want to put my family through yet another grieving process, I decided I had better bring them back. I took off after them in an uncinched pink bathrobe and not much else. After ten minutes of stumbling through the mud & brambles not only had I lost the puppies but I had also lost the belt to the robe and most of my dignity. I decided to go back to the house and get properly dressed and equipped for a massive search effort. As I crawled out of the woods, there they were sitting on the porch looking at me with their heads cocked to the side as if thinking “What’s that idiot doing out there?”. I’m just thankful that God will forgive us for the use of foul language in times of stress especially between the hours of midnight & five A.M.
Upon bringing them back into the house, Pee & Poop (they’ve earned these names) proceeded to do just that on the living room rug. Knowing there wasn’t much sense in going back to bed, I spent the next three hours following them around with a paper towel in one hand and a rolled up newspaper in the other. I have to give my wife some credit for good judgment, as she never once had the nerve to ask me what happened to her bathrobe.
Later I learned that puppies don’t have much control over their bodily functions until they are twelve to sixteen weeks old and that smaller breeds like Pee & Poop can sometimes take as much as six months to house train. I think these gals are going for the record. My daughter is not so cheerful about cleaning up after them anymore and my wife has to feed them most of the time but the “little darlings” have become part of the family now. Oh, by the way, that contract I had with my daughter; I found a real good use for it at about four o’clock one morning.
This is an older story written several years ago. Roxie & Chloe are still with us. The pink bathrobe didn't survive.
Now before I would agree to another pet, I made my daughter promise that she would be responsible and take care of it. I actually made her swear on a stack of three Bibles, had my attorney draw up a contract for her to sign and made her spit on her hand before we shook on it. While she picked out a single puppy that struck her fancy, I paid the vet bill for the previously deceased Buster and then wrote another check for the puppy. Little did I realize that the check writing was just beginning.
As we took “the sweetest little puppy in the world” home, (my daughter’s words not mine) the pup promptly wet on my car seat. When we got home, my wife was waiting for us, still teary-eyed and a bit melancholy about Buster but she did make the best of it. As anyone with a new pet would do, we sat in the floor to play with “the sweetest puppy in the world” that of course immediately wet on the rug. I should have known that I was in trouble when my wife didn’t get upset at this or the other mess that “Sweetie” was strategically leaving around the living room. In fact, Tracy seemed unusually calm and that should have been a warning sign of things to come.
Even though it was like closing the barn door after the horse got out, my daughter & I took the pup outside. As we sat on the steps and watched for any “activity”, I whiled away the time pondering the absurdity of the theory of evolution, not upon religious grounds but upon a review of my current situation. I mean when you consider that man has evolved from hunters, gatherers and graphic cave artists to the state at which I found myself (waiting in the hot sun for a dog to do her business), it doesn’t really lend much support to Darwin’s Theories.
After twenty minutes of no activity, “Sweetie” was brought back inside where she promptly wet in the foyer just inside the door. As my daughter so cheerfully cleaned up the mess, I realized that my wife was nowhere to be found & neither was the checkbook. I checked the garage and her car was gone. Thinking positively I reasoned that she had gone to get some high powered puppy food for “Sweetie”. You know the kind I’m talking about; it costs more per pound than rib eye steak & has “all the vitamins, minerals & roughage to make your puppy big & strong & poop a lot!”
It wasn’t much later that she came in the door holding “the cutest puppy in the world.”
“Sweetie needed a companion.” She said, “and besides it’s no more trouble to keep two than it is one.” Now I’ve been married for 17 years and even as slow-witted as I am, I know there are some battles that I can’t win. I wasn’t even going to fight this one. Sweetie was excited to see her sister, so excited in fact, that she wet on the rug again. Cutie decided to make it a group activity.
After much debate and at least one roll of paper towels, Sweetie & Cutie became Roxie & Chloe. Now a trip to Wal Mart was required to fulfill the “little darlings” needs. This included five pounds of that puppy food, two color coordinated collars, half a dozen squeaky toys, chew sticks, pig ears, Vidal Sassoon Dog Shampoo or equivalent, puppy pads, doggie perfume, nail polish, air freshener, carpet cleaner and industrial strength paper towels (they’re in the automotive department). Fortunately we already had a pet carrier.
Now I’ve had dogs all my life but most of them were outdoor critters that slept on the porch and chased rabbits when the urge hit them. Roxie & Chloe or “Pee & Poop” as I call them aren’t ever going to make it outside. Why any self- respecting rabbit would either die laughing at the sight of them or try to nurse them. So we were going to have to house train Pee & Poop – errr Roxie & Chloe. Now I had once house-trained a border collie in one day so I figured this shouldn’t be too hard; a rolled up newspaper and sharp voice should take care of this in short order. I discovered that these dogs have very little in common with border collies!
The first night, I think there were 47 little presents left for us throughout the house & this was before bedtime. We finally got them in their cage and quiet around midnight. By four o’clock the next morning, I couldn’t take the whining anymore. I did learn that my wife could actually laugh in her sleep when I told her that she needed to get up & take the puppies outside. Being the good father that I am and knowing that a ten year old needs her sleep, I didn’t bother to drag out my contract with my daughter and wake her with the details of Article IV, Section 1-5 of the fine print. Fortunately, our nearest neighbor is a quarter mile away, so still half asleep, I just slipped on my wife’s bathrobe, grabbed the “little darlings” and took them to the backyard. Instead of taking care of business as they should, they proceeded to make a mad dash for the woods behind our house. Calling them did no good as they were as confused about their names as I was and as some of the names I was calling them were not appropriate for mixed company, it’s just as well they didn’t respond.
Now we have a lot of coyotes in our area and as I didn’t want to put my family through yet another grieving process, I decided I had better bring them back. I took off after them in an uncinched pink bathrobe and not much else. After ten minutes of stumbling through the mud & brambles not only had I lost the puppies but I had also lost the belt to the robe and most of my dignity. I decided to go back to the house and get properly dressed and equipped for a massive search effort. As I crawled out of the woods, there they were sitting on the porch looking at me with their heads cocked to the side as if thinking “What’s that idiot doing out there?”. I’m just thankful that God will forgive us for the use of foul language in times of stress especially between the hours of midnight & five A.M.
Upon bringing them back into the house, Pee & Poop (they’ve earned these names) proceeded to do just that on the living room rug. Knowing there wasn’t much sense in going back to bed, I spent the next three hours following them around with a paper towel in one hand and a rolled up newspaper in the other. I have to give my wife some credit for good judgment, as she never once had the nerve to ask me what happened to her bathrobe.
Later I learned that puppies don’t have much control over their bodily functions until they are twelve to sixteen weeks old and that smaller breeds like Pee & Poop can sometimes take as much as six months to house train. I think these gals are going for the record. My daughter is not so cheerful about cleaning up after them anymore and my wife has to feed them most of the time but the “little darlings” have become part of the family now. Oh, by the way, that contract I had with my daughter; I found a real good use for it at about four o’clock one morning.
This is an older story written several years ago. Roxie & Chloe are still with us. The pink bathrobe didn't survive.
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
The "Tuxedo Girl" is Baaaack!
I noticed in this week’s Clarion Ledger that “Tuxedo Girl” is back. If you remember last Spring, a high school senior in South Mississippi demanded to have her picture included in the yearbook – a reasonable expectation. She was a honor student, active in school organizations and apparently well-liked and well behaved. So what’s the problem? She only wanted her picture included if she could wear a tuxedo not the traditional gown that was expected and accepted by all other female students.
And her reasoning?
The young lady said she should get to decide how she looks in the senior photo. The school should have no right to enforce their stereotypical views of gender upon her. The student indicates that she doesn’t wear feminine clothing while attending school and that she shouldn’t be obligated to wear them in the yearbook. It is here that it should be noted that it is doubtful that she wore a tuxedo to class either.
The school policy (unwritten but certainly understood by all the other students at the school) is that male students wear a tux and female students wear a gown for inclusion in the yearbook. This student doesn’t claim to be male or suffer from gender confusion, so why is she determined to wear a tux?
Here’s a quote:
"I feel like I'm not important, that the school is dismissing who I am as a gay student and that they don't even care about me. All I want is to be able to be me, and to be included in the yearbook."
So it wasn’t a dress issue after all or even a policy issue – it’s a gay issue – a publicity stunt - designed to draw attention to herself.
Her treatment in the press at that time and by advocacy groups was decidely “pro-tuxedo.” NOW and the ACLU vowed support and threatened the school district with legal action if they didn’t capitulate. To their credit, the school district didn’t and “Tuxedo Girl’ didn’t appear in the yearbook.
Now, after the fame and publicity enjoyed by the gay teenager in North Mississippi who halted a school prom because of her threats against a school district, “Tuxedo Girl” has decided to file her own lawsuit against her school. She seeks unspecified damages and legal costs.
This is what her attorney from the ACLU said, “It’s unlawful to force students to conform to outdated notions about what boys and girls should look like without any regard to who they actually are as people.”
It really comes down to - who sets the standards? Do you accept my standards – Do I accept yours? Maybe Obama can set them for us or Pat Roberson. The ACLU is certainly trying to set some kind of standard for us but I’m not sure what gives them that right other than their deep pockets. Or maybe we should acknowledge that given these choices, there is a place in our culture for tradition, authority and historical precedent because that’s the best option we have.
I can’t help but believe that “Tuxedo Girl” is perpetuating a fraud upon the public by claiming discrimination due to sexual orientation when the issue has nothing to do with sexual orientation – all to obtain publicity.
“Tuxedo Girl’s” claim of discrimination is without a doubt – false. The school system did not single out this young woman and force her to dress differently or treat her differently from other students. She chose to single her self out – her choice.
The school system did not make an issue of her sexual orientation – only her gender. A policy that apparently sits well with all the other students. I’m sure there are some female students that are more masculine than others and some male students that exhibit feminine characteristics from time to time. These students didn’t deem it necessary to draw attention to themselves by dressing in the garb of the opposite sex for their yearbook photo – why not? – Because they didn’t have an agenda – they weren’t seeking attention.
Tuxedo Girl says she had a right to decide how she wishes to appear in the yearbook and that a gown did not represent how she dresses in her daily life. I doubt very seriously that a tuxedo is an accurate representation of her daily wear either. This young woman had a right to choose – whether to be included in her high school yearbook or not but she didn’t have the right (at the expense of others) to use a tradition and a right of passage to adulthood as a means of drawing attention to herself or her sexual orientation – no more than a student who demands to flash a gang symbol or wear an Atlanta Braves jersey or hold their deer rifle in their photo because in their mind it symbolizes who they are.
I have to say to Tuxedo Girl: “ Grow up a little and get on with your life. If you believe that your clothes define who you are, then you are going to have much bigger problems in life than a simple yearbook photo – and if you don’t want people to base their impressions of you upon your sexual orientation then I suggest that you not define your life that way.
As for NOW & the ACLU, I can’t help but wonder how solid their support would be if Tuxedo Girl had decided to add a little something else to her attire – like a ball cap with the slogan “Jesus Saves”.
W. McCully
And her reasoning?
The young lady said she should get to decide how she looks in the senior photo. The school should have no right to enforce their stereotypical views of gender upon her. The student indicates that she doesn’t wear feminine clothing while attending school and that she shouldn’t be obligated to wear them in the yearbook. It is here that it should be noted that it is doubtful that she wore a tuxedo to class either.
The school policy (unwritten but certainly understood by all the other students at the school) is that male students wear a tux and female students wear a gown for inclusion in the yearbook. This student doesn’t claim to be male or suffer from gender confusion, so why is she determined to wear a tux?
Here’s a quote:
"I feel like I'm not important, that the school is dismissing who I am as a gay student and that they don't even care about me. All I want is to be able to be me, and to be included in the yearbook."
So it wasn’t a dress issue after all or even a policy issue – it’s a gay issue – a publicity stunt - designed to draw attention to herself.
Her treatment in the press at that time and by advocacy groups was decidely “pro-tuxedo.” NOW and the ACLU vowed support and threatened the school district with legal action if they didn’t capitulate. To their credit, the school district didn’t and “Tuxedo Girl’ didn’t appear in the yearbook.
Now, after the fame and publicity enjoyed by the gay teenager in North Mississippi who halted a school prom because of her threats against a school district, “Tuxedo Girl” has decided to file her own lawsuit against her school. She seeks unspecified damages and legal costs.
This is what her attorney from the ACLU said, “It’s unlawful to force students to conform to outdated notions about what boys and girls should look like without any regard to who they actually are as people.”
It really comes down to - who sets the standards? Do you accept my standards – Do I accept yours? Maybe Obama can set them for us or Pat Roberson. The ACLU is certainly trying to set some kind of standard for us but I’m not sure what gives them that right other than their deep pockets. Or maybe we should acknowledge that given these choices, there is a place in our culture for tradition, authority and historical precedent because that’s the best option we have.
I can’t help but believe that “Tuxedo Girl” is perpetuating a fraud upon the public by claiming discrimination due to sexual orientation when the issue has nothing to do with sexual orientation – all to obtain publicity.
“Tuxedo Girl’s” claim of discrimination is without a doubt – false. The school system did not single out this young woman and force her to dress differently or treat her differently from other students. She chose to single her self out – her choice.
The school system did not make an issue of her sexual orientation – only her gender. A policy that apparently sits well with all the other students. I’m sure there are some female students that are more masculine than others and some male students that exhibit feminine characteristics from time to time. These students didn’t deem it necessary to draw attention to themselves by dressing in the garb of the opposite sex for their yearbook photo – why not? – Because they didn’t have an agenda – they weren’t seeking attention.
Tuxedo Girl says she had a right to decide how she wishes to appear in the yearbook and that a gown did not represent how she dresses in her daily life. I doubt very seriously that a tuxedo is an accurate representation of her daily wear either. This young woman had a right to choose – whether to be included in her high school yearbook or not but she didn’t have the right (at the expense of others) to use a tradition and a right of passage to adulthood as a means of drawing attention to herself or her sexual orientation – no more than a student who demands to flash a gang symbol or wear an Atlanta Braves jersey or hold their deer rifle in their photo because in their mind it symbolizes who they are.
I have to say to Tuxedo Girl: “ Grow up a little and get on with your life. If you believe that your clothes define who you are, then you are going to have much bigger problems in life than a simple yearbook photo – and if you don’t want people to base their impressions of you upon your sexual orientation then I suggest that you not define your life that way.
As for NOW & the ACLU, I can’t help but wonder how solid their support would be if Tuxedo Girl had decided to add a little something else to her attire – like a ball cap with the slogan “Jesus Saves”.
W. McCully
Sunday, August 15, 2010
I Know What's Wrong with Pelosi, Reed & Obama
Nancy Pelosi, Harry Reid and President Obama are not real popular right now, even with a lot of the folks that put em in office. It seems like they're just unhappy folks in charge and misery loves company. Now I'm not going to talk any specific politics here. Lord knows there's enough of that out there on the news and Facebook and Twitter. I'm just looking at these folks at a personal level.
Just take a look at them; Obama always going around talkin about whose *ss he's gonna kick, Nancy looks like she swallered a sour pill and Harry, poor Harry, just can't seem to keep his foot outa his mouth.
I know there's a lot a stress in their jobs yet it looks to me like they create a lot of it themselves. But I know what's really wrong with em. I discovered it when I saw a picture of all three of em together. It becomes real obvious when they pose together at some bill signing that just cost us taxpayers - some umpteen trillion dollars;
They 're hungry.
Just look at em. This has got to be the skinniest bunch of leaders this country has ever seen. Nancy looks like one of them stick figures you draw when you're playing hangman, Harry looks like the scared school teacher, Ichabod Crane, in the Tale of Sleepy Hollow and heaven help me- the Prez looks like Jack Skellington in Tim Burton's Movie "Nightmare Before Christmas".
It's hard to make good decisions or be agreeable if you're hungry. Your ol' stomach's a growlin and maybe you got a little low blood sugar to make you a bit dizzy. Things might improve up there in Washington if we could just get these folks to eat proper- fatten em up a bit as my Momma used to say.
It's interesting to note that none of these folks are from the South where we know how, when, what and where to eat. I know they say we're the fattest folks in America and as to how unhealthy we are, but compared to the rest of the country- we do manage to get along better than most and if you look around, we've managed to control our state budgets better than them skinny folks out in California or them high-falootin sushi (we call it bait down here) & salad eatin socialites in New York. A little meat on your bones tends to make you calmer and more thoughtful in your decision making - you see the world with a little more ease.
Now I don't know exactly why these folks aren't eatin - maybe they've got some misplaced concern about their health or appearance but it's obvious it ain't workin for em. Nancy got access to all that fresh seafood at Fisherman's Wharf, Harry could probably eat free at any casino buffet in Las Vegas and the President has got his own personal chef. There ain't no excuse for them to be as skinny as they are. I can only assume it's the environment that they're workin in. I mean everytime I think about the stuff goin on in Washington, I lose my appetite too.
So maybe instead of fussin and cussin at em from a distance, we oughta invite em down here just for some real food. Governor Barbour who is more than qualified in the ways of Southern cookin, could invite them on the pretense of discussing the Gulf situation and then we could whisk them up here to Louisville for some good ol' fashioned fare. We all know Ms. Aline Haynes and a few others could throw a meal together to put anybody in a good mood. People just tend to be more pleasant when their bellies are full of fried chicken, garlic mashed potatoes, purple hull peas, fried green tomatoes and southern cornbread. Now - if you were to top that off with a slice of pecan pie and a serving of Alene Ingram's homemade ice cream, I guarantee them folks couldn't be anything but more agreeable.
Just take a look at them; Obama always going around talkin about whose *ss he's gonna kick, Nancy looks like she swallered a sour pill and Harry, poor Harry, just can't seem to keep his foot outa his mouth.
I know there's a lot a stress in their jobs yet it looks to me like they create a lot of it themselves. But I know what's really wrong with em. I discovered it when I saw a picture of all three of em together. It becomes real obvious when they pose together at some bill signing that just cost us taxpayers - some umpteen trillion dollars;
They 're hungry.
Just look at em. This has got to be the skinniest bunch of leaders this country has ever seen. Nancy looks like one of them stick figures you draw when you're playing hangman, Harry looks like the scared school teacher, Ichabod Crane, in the Tale of Sleepy Hollow and heaven help me- the Prez looks like Jack Skellington in Tim Burton's Movie "Nightmare Before Christmas".
It's hard to make good decisions or be agreeable if you're hungry. Your ol' stomach's a growlin and maybe you got a little low blood sugar to make you a bit dizzy. Things might improve up there in Washington if we could just get these folks to eat proper- fatten em up a bit as my Momma used to say.
It's interesting to note that none of these folks are from the South where we know how, when, what and where to eat. I know they say we're the fattest folks in America and as to how unhealthy we are, but compared to the rest of the country- we do manage to get along better than most and if you look around, we've managed to control our state budgets better than them skinny folks out in California or them high-falootin sushi (we call it bait down here) & salad eatin socialites in New York. A little meat on your bones tends to make you calmer and more thoughtful in your decision making - you see the world with a little more ease.
Now I don't know exactly why these folks aren't eatin - maybe they've got some misplaced concern about their health or appearance but it's obvious it ain't workin for em. Nancy got access to all that fresh seafood at Fisherman's Wharf, Harry could probably eat free at any casino buffet in Las Vegas and the President has got his own personal chef. There ain't no excuse for them to be as skinny as they are. I can only assume it's the environment that they're workin in. I mean everytime I think about the stuff goin on in Washington, I lose my appetite too.
So maybe instead of fussin and cussin at em from a distance, we oughta invite em down here just for some real food. Governor Barbour who is more than qualified in the ways of Southern cookin, could invite them on the pretense of discussing the Gulf situation and then we could whisk them up here to Louisville for some good ol' fashioned fare. We all know Ms. Aline Haynes and a few others could throw a meal together to put anybody in a good mood. People just tend to be more pleasant when their bellies are full of fried chicken, garlic mashed potatoes, purple hull peas, fried green tomatoes and southern cornbread. Now - if you were to top that off with a slice of pecan pie and a serving of Alene Ingram's homemade ice cream, I guarantee them folks couldn't be anything but more agreeable.
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Press Release from Congressman Gregg Harper
FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE
July 30, 2010
WASHINGTON, DC – U.S. Representative Gregg Harper (R–Miss.) opposed two bills today that would lead to a halt in offshore drilling.
“As millions of unemployed Americans search for jobs, the White House and some Members of Congress are determined to advance regulations and policies that will put tens of thousands of those in the oil industry out of work,” said Congressman Gregg Harper. “The White House ignored industry experts, a federal judge, and pleas from Members of Congress when it issued yet another moratorium on deepwater drilling.”
To date, 14,000 deepwater wells have been drilled without any major issues. During the six decades of Gulf water drilling, thousands of wells have been successfully drilled.
H.R. 3534, the “Consolidated Land, Energy and Aquatic Resources Act of 2009” (CLEAR Act), would consolidate regulatory authority of federal mineral and energy resources into one entity. The bill would also create challenges for smaller, independent companies by lifting the liability cap on oil companies in the aftermath of an oil spill.
H.R. 5851, the “Offshore Oil and Gas Worker Whistleblower Protection Act of 2010,” would create whistleblower protections in the offshore oil and gas industry.
Harper said that these bills will simply increase costs on the petroleum industry and serve as a de facto moratorium putting more jobs at risk.
“Many of my constituents depend on the offshore oil industry for their livelihoods. During this time of economic uncertainty, our country does not need new policies that destroy jobs,” Harper added.
The oil industry employs tens of thousands of offshore drilling workers nationwide. These high-paying jobs account for $12.7 billion in annual wages. According to the U.S. Bureau of Statistics, there are 107,210 oil-related jobs along the Gulf Coast.
July 30, 2010
WASHINGTON, DC – U.S. Representative Gregg Harper (R–Miss.) opposed two bills today that would lead to a halt in offshore drilling.
“As millions of unemployed Americans search for jobs, the White House and some Members of Congress are determined to advance regulations and policies that will put tens of thousands of those in the oil industry out of work,” said Congressman Gregg Harper. “The White House ignored industry experts, a federal judge, and pleas from Members of Congress when it issued yet another moratorium on deepwater drilling.”
To date, 14,000 deepwater wells have been drilled without any major issues. During the six decades of Gulf water drilling, thousands of wells have been successfully drilled.
H.R. 3534, the “Consolidated Land, Energy and Aquatic Resources Act of 2009” (CLEAR Act), would consolidate regulatory authority of federal mineral and energy resources into one entity. The bill would also create challenges for smaller, independent companies by lifting the liability cap on oil companies in the aftermath of an oil spill.
H.R. 5851, the “Offshore Oil and Gas Worker Whistleblower Protection Act of 2010,” would create whistleblower protections in the offshore oil and gas industry.
Harper said that these bills will simply increase costs on the petroleum industry and serve as a de facto moratorium putting more jobs at risk.
“Many of my constituents depend on the offshore oil industry for their livelihoods. During this time of economic uncertainty, our country does not need new policies that destroy jobs,” Harper added.
The oil industry employs tens of thousands of offshore drilling workers nationwide. These high-paying jobs account for $12.7 billion in annual wages. According to the U.S. Bureau of Statistics, there are 107,210 oil-related jobs along the Gulf Coast.
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Marriage Interviews Should be Required
I spend a lot of time looking at the absurdities of life. We do and think a lot of things that don’t make sense. We idolize that Hollywood actor but we hold our nose at the guy who cleans our septic tank. Now which one do you think is more vital to your quality of life? We can all name the star quarterback for our favorite college team but how many of us can name the president of that same university? And we do this in almost all aspects of our lives. We don’t concentrate on what’s important and leave certain aspects of our lives to chance.
Best example; picking a spouse. Most employers wouldn’t dream of hiring someone for a long term position without an in depth background check and job interview yet we leave our choice of lifetime partners to chance. That’s why I think people should advertise for mates and do a detailed interview before even considering marriage. As women often have the most at stake, I think they should conduct the interview. As someone who has given this a lot of thought, I’ve developed some questions along with appropriate answers and not so good answers;
Q: What do you do for a living?
POSSIBLE CORRECT ANSWERS: Teacher, lawyer, plumber, welder, doctor, etc.
WRONG ANSWERS: telemarketer, “I’m between jobs right now”, ACORN Field Representative, Chief Safety Officer for British Petroleum.
Q: How long have you been on the same job?
CORRECT ANSWER: For six years. I’ve had two promotions and four raises since I’ve been there.
WRONG ANSWER: Since last Spring. You see I quit my job every Fall when hunting season starts and then I find me a new one every Spring. That way hunting don’t get in the way of my job. I figure that’s the only way to be fair to whoever you work for.
Q: Why do you feel that you would be good at marriage?
CORRECT ANSWER: I’m ready to settle down and build a future with someone I can love and respect.
WRONG ANSWER: Well, I’ve had a lot of experience.
Q: Do you like children?
CORRECT ANSWER: I’d love to have a couple of kids.
WRONG ANSWER: Rugrats? I’m crazy about em. Love to have 10 or 12 of em!
Q: Where do you see yourself 10 years from now?
CORRECT ANSWER: I hope to have a home and family with a little money put away for retirement.
WRONG ANSWER: I’ve always dreamed of being a NASCAR driver, so I’m putting all my money into a car me & my buddies are workin on out back of the house.
Q: What’s your idea of a pleasant evening on the town?
CORRECT ANSWER: After a nice meal in a good restaurant, we might catch a movie or concert and spend the rest of the evening just talking.
WRONG ANSWER: Well, after the wrestling match, we’d grab a case of Old Milwaukee and a couple of bags of pork rinds and go down to the lake and have us a good ol time.
Q: Are you an introvert or an extrovert?
CORRECT ANSWER: Well, I don’t mind being alone but I really like being around other people and being involved in lots of activities.
WRONG ANSWER: I’m not really into any of that kinky stuff.
This is just a sampling of things that you might want to know about someone before you enter into a long term relationship or a legal contract with them. Even under the best of circumstances, marriage is tough and without the proper thought and effort, that wedding ring can turn into a suffer-ring.
Best example; picking a spouse. Most employers wouldn’t dream of hiring someone for a long term position without an in depth background check and job interview yet we leave our choice of lifetime partners to chance. That’s why I think people should advertise for mates and do a detailed interview before even considering marriage. As women often have the most at stake, I think they should conduct the interview. As someone who has given this a lot of thought, I’ve developed some questions along with appropriate answers and not so good answers;
Q: What do you do for a living?
POSSIBLE CORRECT ANSWERS: Teacher, lawyer, plumber, welder, doctor, etc.
WRONG ANSWERS: telemarketer, “I’m between jobs right now”, ACORN Field Representative, Chief Safety Officer for British Petroleum.
Q: How long have you been on the same job?
CORRECT ANSWER: For six years. I’ve had two promotions and four raises since I’ve been there.
WRONG ANSWER: Since last Spring. You see I quit my job every Fall when hunting season starts and then I find me a new one every Spring. That way hunting don’t get in the way of my job. I figure that’s the only way to be fair to whoever you work for.
Q: Why do you feel that you would be good at marriage?
CORRECT ANSWER: I’m ready to settle down and build a future with someone I can love and respect.
WRONG ANSWER: Well, I’ve had a lot of experience.
Q: Do you like children?
CORRECT ANSWER: I’d love to have a couple of kids.
WRONG ANSWER: Rugrats? I’m crazy about em. Love to have 10 or 12 of em!
Q: Where do you see yourself 10 years from now?
CORRECT ANSWER: I hope to have a home and family with a little money put away for retirement.
WRONG ANSWER: I’ve always dreamed of being a NASCAR driver, so I’m putting all my money into a car me & my buddies are workin on out back of the house.
Q: What’s your idea of a pleasant evening on the town?
CORRECT ANSWER: After a nice meal in a good restaurant, we might catch a movie or concert and spend the rest of the evening just talking.
WRONG ANSWER: Well, after the wrestling match, we’d grab a case of Old Milwaukee and a couple of bags of pork rinds and go down to the lake and have us a good ol time.
Q: Are you an introvert or an extrovert?
CORRECT ANSWER: Well, I don’t mind being alone but I really like being around other people and being involved in lots of activities.
WRONG ANSWER: I’m not really into any of that kinky stuff.
This is just a sampling of things that you might want to know about someone before you enter into a long term relationship or a legal contract with them. Even under the best of circumstances, marriage is tough and without the proper thought and effort, that wedding ring can turn into a suffer-ring.
Monday, July 12, 2010
Blue Suede Toilet Seats
My family and I took a little trip back a few months ago. Spring Fever had set in and we needed to get away from yard work and chasing down income tax receipts. We decided to run up to Memphis and visit Graceland. My daughter has always been curious about Elvis and I thought she might enjoy seeing his home and memorabilia and we could buy a t-shirt or two.
If it’s possible, Elvis is more famous dead than he ever was alive. He’s everywhere and without a doubt the biggest money maker in Memphis. He’s probably still selling more records (CD’s for you younger folks) than most new artists which isn’t surprising considering the sad state of the current music industry. People are still fascinated by his life and music and as a tourist destination; Graceland must rival the Grand Canyon and Yellowstone.
But I have to say that I was disappointed. For eighteen bucks a person, you get a bus ride across Elvis Presley Boulevard, a digital recorder and headphones to hang around your neck instead of a tour guide and the opportunity to stand in a crowd of hot, sweaty people; many of whom speak in a foreign language (strangely enough, mostly Northern European) and be herded through the mansion and grounds like livestock at a sale barn. I kept waiting for them to bring out the cattle prod for the older couple in front of us who kept holding up the line because they couldn’t get the lens cap off their camera. The highlight of the tour for my daughter was when the security people watching through surveillance cameras would say “Thank you – Thank you very much.” As they cautioned people to not lean over the railing or attempt to touch the displays.
Now I love Elvis. It’s hard not to love Elvis. It’s a rags to riches story of a young man who changed not only American culture but was a worldwide cultural phenomenon as well. His story has all the pathos and tragedy of any good made-for-TV movie. But what’s been done to his memory is even more tragic.
Elvis has become like Sponge Bob. He’s everywhere. His image is on everything from clocks to cell phone covers. He is an A-number one marketing tool because people just can’t seem to get enough of him. The souvenir shops across the street from Graceland are loaded with everything Elvis. Products range from bobble heads to put on your dashboard to recipe books with “Hound Dog Chili Dogs” and 101 variations of the peanut butter and banana sandwich. I half expected to find “Elvis Hunk-A-Burnin Love Condoms” and “Now or Never Chocolate Laxatives” behind the check out counters.
Something just seems inherently wrong about using Elvis in this way. I felt slimy after the whole experience, like I needed a bath. Granted, Elvis was marketed during his whole career and he wasn’t necessarily known for his good taste. He also didn’t die in the most dignified manner. I think that’s God’s way of reminding us not to get too big for our britches (literally and figuratively). But for his family to license his image for the most inane products isn’t something that should sit too well with his true fans.
I don’t think I’ll go back to Graceland anytime soon. It just tarnished Elvis’s memory for me and I don’t really need another “Blue Suede Toilet Seat”. I’ll just try to hold on to a more pleasant memory of the Elvis that use to be while I’m singing “Don’t Be Cruel” in the shower and using my Kentucky Rain Shampoo, Love Me Tender Conditioner and my Elvis soap on a rope.
If it’s possible, Elvis is more famous dead than he ever was alive. He’s everywhere and without a doubt the biggest money maker in Memphis. He’s probably still selling more records (CD’s for you younger folks) than most new artists which isn’t surprising considering the sad state of the current music industry. People are still fascinated by his life and music and as a tourist destination; Graceland must rival the Grand Canyon and Yellowstone.
But I have to say that I was disappointed. For eighteen bucks a person, you get a bus ride across Elvis Presley Boulevard, a digital recorder and headphones to hang around your neck instead of a tour guide and the opportunity to stand in a crowd of hot, sweaty people; many of whom speak in a foreign language (strangely enough, mostly Northern European) and be herded through the mansion and grounds like livestock at a sale barn. I kept waiting for them to bring out the cattle prod for the older couple in front of us who kept holding up the line because they couldn’t get the lens cap off their camera. The highlight of the tour for my daughter was when the security people watching through surveillance cameras would say “Thank you – Thank you very much.” As they cautioned people to not lean over the railing or attempt to touch the displays.
Now I love Elvis. It’s hard not to love Elvis. It’s a rags to riches story of a young man who changed not only American culture but was a worldwide cultural phenomenon as well. His story has all the pathos and tragedy of any good made-for-TV movie. But what’s been done to his memory is even more tragic.
Elvis has become like Sponge Bob. He’s everywhere. His image is on everything from clocks to cell phone covers. He is an A-number one marketing tool because people just can’t seem to get enough of him. The souvenir shops across the street from Graceland are loaded with everything Elvis. Products range from bobble heads to put on your dashboard to recipe books with “Hound Dog Chili Dogs” and 101 variations of the peanut butter and banana sandwich. I half expected to find “Elvis Hunk-A-Burnin Love Condoms” and “Now or Never Chocolate Laxatives” behind the check out counters.
Something just seems inherently wrong about using Elvis in this way. I felt slimy after the whole experience, like I needed a bath. Granted, Elvis was marketed during his whole career and he wasn’t necessarily known for his good taste. He also didn’t die in the most dignified manner. I think that’s God’s way of reminding us not to get too big for our britches (literally and figuratively). But for his family to license his image for the most inane products isn’t something that should sit too well with his true fans.
I don’t think I’ll go back to Graceland anytime soon. It just tarnished Elvis’s memory for me and I don’t really need another “Blue Suede Toilet Seat”. I’ll just try to hold on to a more pleasant memory of the Elvis that use to be while I’m singing “Don’t Be Cruel” in the shower and using my Kentucky Rain Shampoo, Love Me Tender Conditioner and my Elvis soap on a rope.
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