Talk to Me

Overreach

I'm so tired of hearing that everything is racist.  That everything is sexist.  It seems that the order of the day is to be extreme in all thought.  Politically, we're either very right or very left.  There's not much common ground to be had lately.  Racially, we're either black, brown, red, white, or yellow. 

Again, not much room for common ground.

I love to listen to those with opposing points of view because sometimes I can learn something.

So, I listen.  I have to tell you, though, what I hear on the national news from people of color and from women isn't always constructive.  I see much less of them trying to fix things and much more of why I'm to blame for all of the evil in the world.

Not helpful.  Not good.

I have a much different idea in mind.  How about this for an approach... Maybe we can talk with each other as humans first and genders, races, sex practices, political parties, and religions a distant second?

Now there's an idea.

Here's another idea... Let's stop trying to make every cultural norm a racial (or sexist, etc) offense.

Jingle All the Way...

This week there is a cadre of articles about Jingle Bells being racist.  Anyone who seriously thinks that the average white guy is thinking about white supremacy while he sings Jingle Bells, is dangerously deranged.

Overreach is everywhere.

Brrrr... It's Cold in the New Millenium

Or, how about the classic song "Baby It's Cold Outside?"  I've always loved this duet.  The harmonies are just wonderful.  That's what attracted me to it in the first place.  Then, I listened to the lyrics.  It's just so real.  The guy is pressing for the girl to stay.  The girl is giving the excuses about why she shouldn't.  However, notice one thing: She doesn't leave.  Why?  Because this is the dance of enticement that men and women do when there's attraction.  It's a story as old as male-ness and female-ness.  And it's simply a wonderful part of what it means to be a human.

If you listen to this song and aren't reminded of what it means to be a woman or a man, then you have allowed political correctness to neuter you.

Racism Abounds

Melania Trump

Just when I think that America is in trouble, I see headlines that tell me that everything will be alright.  I am comforted to know that there are proud Americans who are willing and able to stand against the tyranny of people like me.

And probably you, too.

Racist Brainwashing

Here's an example of what I'm talking about:

Melania Trump, sent a few books to some schools around the country.  She says that she was simply trying to promote literacy.

What a vanilla cover story!  Seriously, who can take the Trumps ... uh ... seriously.

As any objective observer can see, this is plainly subversive.

Liz Phipps Soeiro

One librarian in particular, Liz Phipps Soeiro, in Cambridge, Massachusetts saw through the Trump's plot and so refused to have the books in her library.

You see, what Liz had discovered is that Mel chose books which were loaded with racist material.  It's all very distasteful and offensive. 

    Brains are scrubbed, Brains are washed.
    All free thinking is quashed, quashed, quashed.

I hate subversion.

Really, though, I should've known that Melly would send something terrible to a bunch of impressionable kids.

The Trumps are like that; just read the papers.  It's all there.

Dr. Seuss with His Racist Goons

For completeness sake, I should mention that the offending author was none other than Dr. Seuss.

America's Forgotten Non-Binaries

I have to tell you that living in America today can be a confusing experience.  Maybe not for you, but, for me, it sometimes is.

A few weeks ago, I wrote a satirical post regarding the bathroom situation vis-a-vis the transgender controversy (Remodeling America's Bathrooms).  The whole thing is so ludicrous that satire is the only response I have for it.  I guess what confuses me is that there are those who take this whole thing so seriously.

I reckon I'm a man out of place in time.  1860 anyone?

If it weren't so deadly serious, it would actually be humorous.  I can easily imagine, in the not too distant past, comics writing whole routines on the subject.  The jokes would be funny because they would be so outrageous.  Today, however, those would-be jokes are reality, not the fevered imaginings of the comic.

You probably think I'm joking about this.  Sadly, no.

In Minnesota, there is a proposal by the School Safety Technical Assistance Council (who makes up names like this?) to help the plight of transgender students.  Proposals include dismissing all gender-based pronouns.  No more he, she, him, or her.  No more boys and girls, instead, we must say "students" or "scholars."

Homecoming King or Queen?  Not on your life.  Now we hail the "Prom Ambassadors."  But let's give credit where it's due: they are not completely inflexible.  They do make provision for the phrase "Homecoming Royalty."

As an aside, I would have thought that the word "Royalty" would have been banned because it suggests that some student scholars are better than others.  On the other hand, maybe everyone who attends the prom gets a participation trophy, so the zero-sum game is maintained.  I'm just not sure what the rules are anymore.

The extra bathrooms go without saying.  Any student who is uncomfortable sharing a bathroom with a transgender student is welcome to go use the single-user bathroom.  Again, I'm confused.  Why doesn't the transgender "scholar" go use the single user bathroom?  Surely there are fewer transgender scholars, right?

There's more, but I'm getting sick of talking about this.

Let's go to the nation's capitol.  In Washington, D.C., there is a new box to check on the driver's license application.  You may check "male," "female," or "X."

I don't know what an "X" is.  But, get this, they call it "non-binary."

So, Washington, D.C. has a non-binary option on their driver's license application.

Hooray.  It's a topic that has haunted Americans for generations.  Holy cow, have we gone collectively insane?

It would be hard to prove otherwise, I suppose.

It's days like these that really do make me feel like a curmudgeon.  I used to joke about being an old grouch, but it's becoming a reality.

Kind of like transgender bathroom privileges.

It's just not that funny anymore.

TheCurmudgeon

p.s.  I'm BINARY, dammit.

American Vitriol

Rep. Steve Scalise (R-LA)

I didn't really want to talk more about the shooting of Rep. Steve Scalise (R-LA) again, but, in light of the comments made over the past two weeks, I feel compelled to do so.  See America the Beautiful for my first post on this subject.

On the plus side, we have seen genuine outpourings of love and compassion expressed across all political spectra.  It's so pleasant to see political enemies express heartfelt sadness and support in the wake of such tragedy.  It's how families are supposed to act; it's how Americans are supposed to act.

On the other hand, there are political enemies who haven't been acting like proper siblings.

Here are some examples:

Representative  Keith Ellison (D-MN) claims that the president has created a "culture of incivility" which allows crazed individuals to "go off the rails."

"What I think is when the president says ‘punch them in the face,' ‘carry them out in a stretcher,' he creates a culture of incivility which sort of lets anybody who's loosely hinged to reality just sort of go off the rails."

America the Beautiful

Rep. Steve Scalise, R-LA

I've been thinking a bit about the shootings in Alexandria, VA last week.  The attack wounded Congressman Steve Scalise (R-LA) and several others. Capitol Police officers David Bailey and Crystal Griner, who were present as part of Scalise's security detail, responded with a counter-attack and killed the shooter.  Both were wounded in the process.  Witnesses believe that they saved lives by their quick and decisive action.

That's the bare-bones story.  But it leaves us with much to think about regarding the divisiveness present in America these days.

Have we really reached a point in America in which we cannot disagree without physical violence?

The more I think of this particular shooting, the sicker I get.  The angrier I become.

This shooting does not represent the America I know and love.

Anyone who thinks it does, is deranged.

The shock of this outrage lasted but a few minutes in some quarters, if it even existed at all.  Within days, while he was still unconscious, Scalise's political detractors said that his shooting was "self-inflicted to some degree"

Why was it self-inflicted?

Because of his politics, of course.

Huh?

Lucky Man

I'm feeling a bit sentimental this morning, so, for just a few minutes, I'll shed my curmudgeonly nature.

A couple of days ago, my daughter, Becky, called and asked if I'd like to meet her for lunch.  As she lives 2-3 hours away, it was something of a sacrifice for her.  Of course, I said yes.  What man in his right mind turns down lunch with a beautiful, smart, witty, and talented daughter?  Right?

As we were standing in the restaurant waiting to be seated, I glanced up and my son was standing next to us.  He lives 15 hours away (in Denver, CO) and was in town for business.  I didn't know he was in town, so I was shocked to see him.

Wow.  Lunch with two of my three kids.  And it was their idea!  That's what I've been thinking about.  They wanted to spend time with their old man.  Naturally, they expected me to pay, so it could be that they just wanted a free meal, but I'll choose not to dwell upon that for the time being.  It would be too curmudgeonly to do so.

As if their mere presence wasn't enough, Becky came bearing gifts for a combo Father's Day/Birthday.  She gave me the nicest photo of her and me from her wedding 5 months ago.  I love photos from my kids.  Every one is always displayed proudly.

In addition to the photograph, she gave me a six-pack of TurboDog, some coffee, and some espresso candy.  She knows her dad!

Also, her wit was on full display with the Father's Day card she choose.  Here's the front:



And here's the inside:

I'm still laughing about it.  When she was little, I used to say that she was snarky.  Methinks that she's not outgrown it.

Debunking Racism-One Klansman at a Time

Yesterday, I saw a documentary on Netflix called Accidental Courtesy.  It's the story of blues/jazz musician Daryl Davis and his relationship with white supremacists.

Interestingly, Davis is Black.

It's not often that I find something truly thought provoking these days.  Neither do I find very many unique approaches to societal problems. 

But, Daryl Davis is both thought provoking and unique.

His premise is a simple one.  He began to ponder on this question as a boy:

"Why do people hate me when they don't even know me?"

To give some context, you need to know that Davis was born in 1958.  His father was in the Secret Service and later he was a Department of State Foreign Service Officer.  Because of his father's vocation, Davis lived all over the world as a child and was exposed to various cultures, races, and religions.  He went to school with children from all over the globe.

And they all got along fine.

Until he came home to the America northeast and joined the Cub Scouts.

While marching in a parade with the other Cubbys, things were thrown at him.  He must have been a pretty cute little kid, because he thought that people in the town must really hate the Cub Scouts.  He didn't even realize that he was the only black child in the group, nor did he realize that he was the only one being hit with projectiles.

When he got home and described the incident to his parents, they broke the sad news to him that there were people who hated him because of his skin color.  Instinctively, he was sure that they were wrong.  People didn't hate over something so superficial!  Anyway, how could they hate him if they didn't even know him?

He was certain that his parents were lying to him.

His ten-year old mind could not get around the fact that his parents were telling him an awful truth.

He went on to attend Howard University where he graduated with a degree in music.  Since then, he's made a name for himself playing with such legendary icons of American music as Chuck Berry, Jerry Lee Lewis, and B.B. King, to name just a few.

Along the way, though, he developed an interesting side vocation: meeting and befriending white racists and supremacists.

Flying the Friendly Skies

Megan in FreeFall

Fiancée has some quirks.

One of her quirks is that she loves being surprised.  You may lazily yawn and say that you enjoy a good surprise, too.  But that is not at all what I'm talking about.  I mean that she LOVES it.

Think last-day-of-school-summer's-here-now kind of excited.

Think winning a billion dollar lottery kind of excited.

Think the-kids-are-gone-for-the-weekend kind of excited.

If you're female, think bubble bath, a glass of wine, and no one yelling, "Mommy, Mommy, Mommy," kind of excited.

If you're a guy, think kids are being quiet, she's shriveling in the bath, and I'm not in trouble for something that I don't really understand kind of greatness.

She gets like a little kid.

Not kidding.

Needless to say, I noticed this pretty early on in our relationship, and, to my credit, I have created some cool surprises for her.

Redfish in Venice, Louisiana

Once, I took her fishing in Venice, Louisiana.  She had no idea where we were going, much less the reason for the trip.  We were at the end of the continental United States, right before one disappears into the Gulf of Mexico, and she still didn't quite know what we were doing all the way down there.  She didn't do very well at guessing that surprise, but she caught plenty of redfish and speckled trout that day.  She was excited.

So, keeping with the tradition of random surprises, I found a skydive place and booked a reservation for her.  Unbeknownst to her, of course.  Then I told her the date and said that that day was all mine because she had a surprise coming.  I even handled the child-care issues.

She says that I'm amazing.

Who am I to question insight when it's so perceptive?

Shipwrecked at Angola

Shipwrecked

Well... We made it back from the rodeo all in one piece.  We even had a good time, mostly.  Successful trip, I'd say.  Wouldn't you?

We began the journey later than we meant to, but, of course, that's my fault.  Somehow.

As you may or may not know, Fiancée has two sons.  One, of course is the little tornado; he's eight.  The other is a freshman in college; he's eighteen.  We decided to swing by his university and include him in our little rodeo soiree.  I was happy to do so, and I'm glad he went.  Besides, he's thin, so he doesn't really add much weight to the bus.

After picking up skinny boy, we headed to Vidalia, Louisiana to overnight in the Wal-Mart parking lot there.  I'm really getting acquainted with the Wal-Mart parking lots in America.

Crossing the Mighty Mississippi

I went to sleep with instructions to be awakened at a certain time, but Fiancée took pity on me and let me sleep in.  (For you English critics out there, "in did she allow me to sleep.")  She's really very sweet to me.  And I do try hard to appreciate her kindnesses.  My new motto is: "Clocks be damned!"  It's easier that way.

We crossed the mighty Mississippi River into Natchez, Mississippi and headed south to Angola.  I've never been this way before, so I had no knowledge of the local roads.  I followed the GPS which directed me onto a "highway" that has a speed limit of 45mph.  Hmmmph.  I came to the conclusion that 45mph was a very optimistic assessment of the maximum speed that one should travel on this particular stretch of asphalt, patches, and potholes.

Angola Prison (Rodeo) Bound

Each spring and fall, Angola Prison in Louisiana hosts one of the most unique events in America: The Angola Prison Rodeo (APR).

To date, I've been four or five times and I've enjoyed them every one.

If you're thinking that you don't much care for rodeos, don't stop reading because the APR isn't a regular rodeo and it's not just about the rodeo; there's much, much more.

For starters, the rodeo has events that sane people wouldn't even begin to try.  Pictured above is an event called Guts Poker.  In this event, four inmates are seated around a card table.  Sounds simple enough, until you learn that a bull is released into the arena.  The bull is then goaded into attacking the participants by the rodeo clowns.  It's a game of attrition... the last one seated is declared the winner.  The event is aptly named; all it takes to win is guts.

The other part of rodeo day is the hobbycraft area.  Over the course of the year, inmates built a wide variety of handmade items.  Leathercraft, woodwork, sculptures, paintings, etc. are all for sale.  In the past, I've bought a handmade guitar, several rocking chairs, and various other small items.  All of high quality and terrific craftsmanship.

I can't emphasize this enough:

 

GO TO THE RODEO AT LEAST ONCE IN YOUR LIFE.

 

You won't be sorry.

Our plan is to hit the road this Friday (April 21, 2017) and attend the rodeo on Saturday.

If you know anything about how our adventures go, there will surely be some sort of catastrophe along the way.  It's just how we do it!

Stay tuned for the adventure.

SOLD !!!

Recently, Fiancé made a discovery. 

Not to be outdone, I also had a Eureka moment.

My discovery was that a woman with too much time on her hands and a knack for surfing the internet will find new and strange ways to spend money and cause general mayhem.

She discovered online auctions.

Did you know, for instance, that, for just a few dollars, you can buy a storage room full of junk?  Honestly, I didn't know that.  But, may the good Lord have mercy upon my soul, I know it now.

The super cool thing about this is that for, say, five or ten dollars, you can be the proud owner of a room full of garage sale items.  But the thing I love most is that this cheap room full of stuff is usually in another city.  It's ideal, really.

Just this past weekend, I had the good
fortune to travel to Houston to pick up a room of junk.

On the Road

One day, out of the blue, fiancé had a simple idea.

(Most disasters in my life begin with a simple idea, but they're usually my own.)

She wanted a place to sleep when we go visit my mom.  Now, mom's house is just fine, but, when we go to visit, we have a tornado of a little boy and a mammoth of a puppy.  Our 10 month old puppy now weighs almost 180 lbs.

As such, my fiancé doesn't sleep well because she's worried that our invading force will wake the rest of the house.  It's all in her head, of course, but try telling her that.  Really, please try telling her.  I've not had any luck with it; perhaps you will.

A couple of months ago, she sweetly said that it would be nice to have a small travel trailer that we could leave at mom's place.  That way, she explained, she would have a place to collect her brood and know that she wasn't bothering anyone.  In so doing, she could finally get a good night's sleep while visiting.

She had something like this in mind:

I wasn't too wild about a little-bitty thing like that, but, whatever.  All I could imagine is how many times I'd bump my head and scrape my shins.  I have to tell you, I wasn't warm to the idea.  I was willing, but it didn't sound like very much fun.

Then she kept on researching.  She discovered that one could get an older motor home for a reasonable price.

Unfortunately, that little discovery unleashed an avalanche.  Before we knew it, we were knee-deep in motor homes for sale.

Up until this point in my life, I'd never wanted a motor home.  Now all I could see was me cruising across the country with my house strapped to my back.  Johnny Appleseed and Lewis & Clark eat your hearts out!

I had the fever.

Huck and Jim Had a Dream

Through a convoluted series of thoughts this morning, I got to thinking about Huckleberry Finn.  That led me to think about my relationship with his story and the banning of the book now and then throughout the course of its history.

First off, let me say that, if you've not read Mark Twain's Huckleberry Finn, you should.  Ernest Hemingway famously said that it was the "one book" from which "all modern American literature" came.

Not only is it great literature, it's an essential tale of Americana that should not be overlooked.  Critics complain about the offensive language, and, it's true, the language can be offensive.  They also claim that it puts slavery and discrimination up front and center.  That's true, too.  It does.

Mark Twain

What critics fail to see, however, is that Huck's tale is a story that condemns not only slavery, but discrimination.  As a lad, reading it for the first time, I came away sickened by the inequality experienced by the African slaves portrayed in the book.  Jim, the slave running away from owners in order to be with his family, is a favorite character of mine.  I love his essential goodness. 

Post-Election Stress Disorder

When I was a youngster, I read a quote by Sherlock Holmes.  He said that the truth is far stranger than fiction.  It's funny because Holmes is/was a fictional character, but, nonetheless, I thought he was wrong.  In my young, concrete, adolescent mind, I figured that the feverish imaginations of humans would be far stranger than the truths in the world.

I was very much mistaken (which means that I was wrong.)

It seems that each week, sometimes each day, I read about something that makes me close my eyes and shake my head in wonder.  The latest is this nonsense about PESD.  I promise you that I'm not making this up.  Sometimes I parody a point of view, but this is real.

‘PESD’ Is PTSD For Dems Who Can’t Stop Crying Over The Election

Berkeley's Brand of Tolerance

Unbeknownst to me, there's an English guy who is Greek, half-Jewish, gay and very conservative. 

Weird, huh?

This guy has so many political identity categories that it's hard to keep track of them all.

Oh, and he mostly dates black guys.

Meet Milo Yiannopoulos.

I'm not much in the mainstream of trendy things.  Most would say that I'm so far out of the mainstream that I haven't seen flowing water in years.  They'd probably be right.  I came to know about Milo because of the riots at Berkeley last week.  He was scheduled to speak there but lots of people didn't like that much.

The Cute Blonde and the Picture Frame

Katie Richter
a.k.a. The Cute Blonde

I hate to say, "I told ya so," but I did tell you so.  Come to think of it, I guess I don't hate it all that much.

For context, you may want to review my post entitled Conscientious Abstention.

There I documented the schizophrenia surrounding the issue of denying services to those with whom one disagrees.  The case study was a baker in Colorado who didn't want to make a cake for a gay wedding.  Of course, he was vilified by the press.  And, of course, he was sued by the gay couple.

I warned you there that this policy would come again but with different examples, including liberals refusing to provide services for those with whom they disagree.

To be fair, it wasn't much of a prediction because, in the post, I cited three other incidences where liberals refused service and no one seemed to care.  It was obvious that it would happen again.

And now it has.  And it happened in Colorado.  Gotta love the irony of it all.

American Stew

Rosalynd Harris

While perusing the news online this morning, I read a heartwarming story.  It seems that some white guys from Texas went to Washington, DC to witness President Trump's inauguration. 

During their stay, they ate at Busboys and Poets where they were served by Rosalynd Harris.  Ms. Harris had recently been a part of the Woman's March and was proud to have participated.

Ms. Harris happens to be black and she admits that she was a bit prejudiced when she found out that these guys were in town in support of Mr. Trump.

One of the men complimented her on her smile and they all chatted a bit. It was a friendly exchange between people of different worlds, races, and ideas.

It was America.

Imagine her surprise when she picked up the ticket after the men had left.  For a meal costing $76, they'd left her a $450 tip and a message.

Remodeling America's Bathrooms

Eureka!  I have found the solution to America's bathroom problem.  With all the fake problems in America today (economy, unemployment, terrorism, for example) the real issue is the bathroom crisis that the transgenders amongst us are experiencing.  It's appalling, really.

So, I've been putting my considerable brain power to work on the problem.  After an exhausting matter of seconds, I've cracked the code.

Conscientious Abstention

I've been reading about celebrities refusing invitations to perform at the Trump inauguration.  Honestly, I couldn't care less about who performs, so that's not the point of this post.

It did, however, lead me to wonder about how this relates to some other news making abstentions in the past few years.

It seems to me that abstaining from an activity approved by the left is considered an egregious affront to humanity, whereas abstaining from activities blackballed by the left is considered heroic.

As I've said in previous posts, I'm not interested in telling anyone what, or what not, to do, thus, it troubles me when one group forces their will upon another person or group.

The Object of Hope

I've been thinking again about hope.  I guess the statement by Michelle Obama about having no hope put it back in my mind.  I wrote a post a bit ago about the subject of hope called Lemonade or Mountains?

In that post I made the comment that Hope is only as good as its object.

For illustration, let's consider trust: Trust, like Hope, is also only as good as the thing being trusted. 

Here's the illustration: Say you're walking on a pier made of boards and you 'trust' that it will be safe.  However, the trust you have is only as good as the state of the lumber upon which you're walking.  You can trust 'til the cows come home, but, if the board is rotten, you will fall.

So it is with Hope, and we naturally ask, "In what do I place my Hope?"