Frydee Funnie

Reading your mind and finding out nothing

Scientists are a step closer to being able to read your mind. No, I am not kidding, but you have nothing to worry about. 

You are thinking I can't read your mind.

The idea that science can read your mind probably won’t bother most people. A perusal of the contents of their gray matter will reveal stale Cheetos, flat Coke and a worry about whether or not they left the lights on when they left the house that morning. A closer examination of your brain will probably convince scientists you need to be locked up in a small closet because you are reading this column.

Scientists attempting to read my mind would probably order an immediate NATO air strike. If they attempted to read Larry “Hawgin’” Fishbreath’s mind, their mind reading equipment would go on strike.

This research comes, not entirely by coincidence from the University of California, located in the Granola State. If you are thinking one too many earthquakes have joggled their brains, you are probably right.

In what is good news on one hand and quite disturbing news on the other hand, the mind reading is so far limited to Youtube videos which the person has already seen. 

Ladies if you can't, you're not trying.

The news story about the mind readers states: “Currently, researchers are only able to reconstruct movie clips people have already viewed. However, the breakthrough is expected to pave the way for reproducing the movies inside our heads that no one else sees - such as dreams and memories.”

Researchers played a Youtube video and then used the mind reading computer equipment to read the mind and recreate the video as a very blurry, shaky blob of a movie with no details and only a vague resemblance to the original video.

The recreated videos are now a major viral hit on the internet video channel, especially with people stoned out of their minds and mind-reading scientists, who may or may not be stoned. Ozzy Osbourne is considering using the footage as the video for his new song release - Still Whacked After All These Years.

Bigfoot researchers are pointing to the recreated videos as absolute proof of the existence of Sasquatch running around research labs in southern California.

In what is a MAJOR disappointment according to the news story: “Researchers emphasize that the brain imaging technology is "decades" away from allowing users to read thoughts and intentions - a theme which is prevalent in numerous dystopian science fiction books.”

This is disappointing because it means we’re still decades away from finding out if a person running for office actually should be elected. Now we have to elect them to office to get proof they are double-dealing, back stabbing liars that should be rubbed down with sandpaper and tossed in a shark tank. With mind-reading technology, we can hook ‘em up, read their minds and throw them in jail without having to first send them to Congress.

The news article does not say if the researchers wore colorful dresses, way too much makeup and jewelry, did the experiments in a dark room with a huge crystal ball on a table in the middle of the room.

Two of these things are just alike

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The current Liar in Chief is making bellicose statements in the general direction of Iran, which is retaliating with equally bellicose statements. Some hawks are even urging a strike against Iran to stop it from developing nuclear weapons.

Israel is also threatening pre-emptive strikes.

While the threats are handy enough, we don't need to invade Iran. The Iranian government is already terrified. To give you a bad analogy. It's comments of aggression and threats are the actions of a mouse cornered by a cat. The mouse knows it's going to get whacked unless the cat loses interest or it manages to escape.

To rephrase, Iran is not going to develop nuclear weapons any time soon. In addition to the fact that they lack the resources to build more than one or two, the regime there is terrified of doing something that'll spur more sanctions and retribution.

Don't believe me?

Read this.
 
Lemme link this pastor and Iran's nuclear ambitions for you.

The only reason this pastor hasn't been killed is because of international pressure and the idiotocracy that runs Iran is afraid of what will happen if he is killed. Need more proof? Look at past cases from Iran in which sentences were reduced for people who's case received international attention.

Need more proof? Look at China. China kills citizens there for a variety of crimes and thumbs its nose at the rest of the world. China knows it doesn't have to worry about international opinion.

Iran is worried, justifiably so. The United States has a pretty hefty track record of beating the hell out of nations that it finds annoying. Damnocrats and Reboobicans are equally responsible for this imperialist attitude.

And people wonder why the United States is hated in so many places.
Iran is not going to do anything that brings more pain down on the collective head of the country. 


Of course, I could be wrong. I attribute some common sense and rationality to the Iranian leaders. That may be a mistake.

The leaders in Iran could be just as delusional as the elected leaders of the United States.

Tarnished, but polishing it now

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Someone, I forget who, said the only thing your Daddy is going to leave you which is worth anything is his name.

Just call me Blank Spot.

So what's your name worth these days? In other words, when you give your word, is it worth trusting?

You don't have to answer me. I don't matter. You matter. As the Bard said, "To thine own self be true."

Are you being true to yourself?

Can you be trusted?

As for me, I'm trying. I'm not the man I once was and I'm not the man I should be. My reputation has plenty of tarnish on it, but I'm also busy polishing it.

Take this weekend for instance.

Flame Fire Ant, festival mascot.

A local crackhead, whom I have written about previously, was at the Fire Ant Festival grounds helping the lights and sound crew unload their truck. Odis and I were busy as well, moving stuff from the Fest mini storage to the festival grounds.

Part of this was a carpet to cover the main stage. Odis & I drug it about halfway to the stage when I asked for a break. Odis pointed over my shoulder. Crackhead was coming.

"He'll help. If I have to set this thing down one more time, it's staying there," Odis said.

They got the carpet moved. Odis and I unloaded everything else. As we prepared to head out, I said, "Hang on. Got something to do." As I walked to where CH was still working, I yelled over my shoulder, "Got a promise to live up to."

I got up to CH and handed him some cash.

CH, I remind you, has repeatedly lied to me. Repeatedly. Made promises he never lived up to. In general he is a stereotypical crack head.

But. I told him that if I ever had work for him, he could do it and I'd pay him.

He was working Friday morning. Not just for me, but for the whole community. I'm sure the Lights & Sound guy paid him.

That did not excuse me from living up to my promise. I told him I'd pay him.

I did.

When I handed him the cash, I told him there'd be more work to do over the weekend.

He nodded, thanked me. shoved the money in his pocket without looking at it and manhandled more concert equipment. I left.

When I got back he was gone. He also never showed again, that I could see, during the rest of the weekend.

I am positive he took the money I gave him and the money he got from the L&S guy and spent it getting wasted. I expected him to do so. That annoys me.

But it still does not excuse me from living up to my promise. Just because he can't be trusted does not mean I shouldn't be trusted. I have to stand on my own merits, which are shaky but are getting firmer all the time.


Maybe some day I will be able to leave something of real worth to my kids as my own Dad left to me.



Lotta polishing left to do.

Oh yes she did

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WARNING: Intense rant follows.


I must consider the source.

This is what I keep reminding myself. I tell myself, in my opinion, the source is about as reliable as a politician.

That ain't helping much. Maybe by putting it down here, it will help.

She called me a racist.

I about came unstuck. Might have, could have and should have run through my brain. Reality is I was so taken aback I couldn't do much more than what I did.

She, in this case, is an entity who rolled through the FAF midway on a golf car with a stereo blaring. I told her she'd have to get the cart out off the grounds. She objected. I persisted. Politely. I pointed out she was NOT a member of the FAF committee and therefore had to get the cart off the grounds.

That didn't sit well. She told a pass friend I was making her get the cart out "because I'm black."

I should not have written that. I'm mad again. I will get over it.

Anyway, I told the Sheriff about the cart. He said she'd not be allowed back on the grounds with the golf cart. He later told me I should have also reported that she called me a racist.
 
Back with friends, I told them what happened. Paula and Rebel (who are married) said I should have come and gotten her, taken her back to the golf cart and repeated the remark. Glad I didn't. We don't need bloodshed at the FAF.

The same entity, I am told, later asked law enforcement about the golf cart policy. I am told she also checked in with other members of the FAF committee, some of whom she thought would identify with her complaint.

She was quickly put to rights and I was vindicated.

This is not the first time I've been attacked for what I do at the FAF. It won't be the last. At least this woman had the guts to say what she did in my hearing. She is not a coward, unlike the people who snipe at me behind my back and get others to do their complaining for them.

Consider the source, Benjamin, consider the source.

Anyway, mine was not the only "golf cart" incident of the festival. Some other committee members got double barreled attacks as well.

Idiots happen.

It's happened in past festivals as well. Will probably happen again.

Again, we must consider the source. 99.9 percent of the people are happy with the FAF and the way it's done. That remaining .1 percent ... nah. They aren't worth any more of my time.

In case you are wondering, golf carts, 4-wheelers and so forth are not allowed on the Festival midway. It's security and liability. Emergency services and the Boy Scouts (who haul off garbage) are allowed. No one else. We do make exceptions for committee members who transport handicapped people or to make large deliveries of ice to vendors. That's it.

This policy makes people mad, especially since Ashburn does have a golf cart ordinance allowing people to use golf carts on City streets. But during the FAF, the street where the FAF is located, is closed to vehicle traffic. Golf carts are considered vehicles.

And, while I'm here, if you are in Turner County and object to this FAF policy, then you are invited to become a part of the FAF committee and work to change the policy. For that matter, if you are driving distance of Turner County, you are welcome to be a part of the FAF committee.

Call 567-3655 for more information.

Whither the liar?

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This week's episode of This American Life is an hour long apology, expiation and explanation of this episode of the show.

That last comment? Mostly.

In case you missed it, the show at fault is a radio adaption of a monologue by Mike Daisey and his trip to China.

TAL host Ira Glass spends considerable time poking holes in Daisey's story. In the last 3rd of the show, he spends time talking about how reporting in China is done. All through the entire story, he speaks with and references American journalists in China and Mr. Daisey's interpreter.

He finally DOES get around to pointing out that it is China, a country where the government pretty much controls everything. But you have to listen REALLY close to hear that.

I have heard both episodes, Mr. Daisey's original story and the apology story. Having heard both, I say I am more inclined to believe Mr. Daisey than Mr. Glass et al.

Now I must explain why.

Item: I am a journalist. I understand the journalism trade. I know what we do, how we do it and why we do it.

Item: Mike Daisey is not a journalist. He says, up front, he is an entertainer and set out to make a point with his monologue.

Item: The story came from China, a place where the government runs everything. This is actually important enough to merit this second mention.

Item: Reporters in China are monitored by the government and sometimes have minders. This was not reported in the TAL apology episode.

Item: Factory inspections in China are announced to the plant ahead of time. Visits by foreign reporters are also announced ahead of time. This too was not reported in the TAL apology.

So.

Mr. Daisey may indeed have an ax to grind where China and Apple are concerned. At the same time, Mr. Daisey also has no intentions of going back to China. I suspect he'd be denied entry now anyway.


This too is very important.

Foreign journalists in China want to stay there to keep reporting. In public they will probably hotly argue they are not monitored by the government. In private, matters will be different.

The simple fact is: if a foreign journalist does a report from China that makes the government mad enough, that reporter will be on a plane out of the country with a couple of hours of government officials getting the offensive-to-them news story.

So, if foreign journalists wish to stay in China and report, they do have to be careful what is reported. This means you are getting as much of the truth as foreign reporters believe they can supply.

And the truth is told.

It also means, Mike Daisey was not bound to same reporting restrictions as embedded journalists.

As for Mr. Daisey's interpreter's comments in the apology story? She lives in China. Do you really think she's NOT going to toe the official party line in China? She'd like to keep working and stay out of jail.

You can bet Chinese officials have heard the Mike Daisey story and the TAL apology piece. Listen closely to the TAL apology story. Factor in what you also know about China and it's attitude toward a free press. Now what do you believe?

You may believe what you wish. As for me, I'm a part of the journalism community. I know what we do, how we do it and why we do it. I ain't saying you can't trust journalists. I am saying the good journalists do bring you as much of the truth as they (we) can. Sometimes that is every iota of truth. Sometimes, that's only as much truth as we can give you, for many reasons.

As with everything else I've said here, believe what you wish. To paraphrase Lynyrd Skynyrd, I'm just trying to bring the truth to you. I'm bringing you everything I get my hands on.

Burn baby burn

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Not a new confession, but I have burned books. Felt amazingly guilty for doing it. It was a huge stack of cheap romance novels I could not sell or give away. Rather than leave them in the house I was vacating, I burned them.

Don't know if I could do it again.

Which is why I surprise myself when I hear about the Koran burning and the riots that resulted from it.

I ponder buying a stack of Korans and defiling them and then burning them. Or, just burn them. Or just defile them. Get the whole thing on video too, making sure that my voice is either obscured or not used and I can't be identified.

As I think this way, I say I would not do this willy nilly. Rather, I'd do it in retaliation. For every soldier's death, a Koran gets reduced to component parts. Roadside bomb? Korans on fire. Retaliation for my burning? Put another shrimp on the barbie baby while I stoke the flames.

Yeah. It cranks my tractor.

I have figured out ways to get away with it too. Can do, in other words. The biggest obstacle is the purchase of a sufficient number of Korans.

Picture swiped from another site.

The thought, as entertaining as it is, is equally bothersome to me. In no particular order:

We invaded those countries over there. Now our president is threatening to do the same to another. We launched attacks into adjacent countries. These people are fighting back the best way they know how. Objectively, I can't blame them.

If someone invaded the United States, I'd fight back too. I'd plant roadside bombs. I'd be a sniper. I'd stage hit and run attacks. The international rules of war would not apply to me. Kill the invaders by whatever means necessary.

In case you wonder, it's way past time to bring out troops home, something the current president promised to do but has not.

Anyway, burning Korans would definitely torque the Islamic haters. But it would also greatly offend the non-terrorists, the non-idiots, the Muslims who want to get along and co-exist peacefully. Should I hold them to account because some idiots of the same basic religion hate everyone? If I do that, then every one else has the right to hold me accountable for what idiot Christians, like the hate mongers at Westboro church, do. Fair is fair

Because idiots come in all flavors.

It's a book. I object to burning books. Period.

I object to book burning because books are repositories of knowledge. Books are the most dangerous weapon a person can wield. A man with a gun but not much knowledge is dangerous until his ammo runs out. Then he has a club or an extremely non-aerodynamic throwing weapon (unless he has a Mosin-Nagant which is another story altogether). A man with knowledge is dangerous until he is dead.

In case you are wondering, I own two Korans, one an English-only English-format version and the other a side-by-side Arabic-English version formatted right to left. I give them the exact same treatment I afford my Bible collection. The idea of setting a flame to either copy almost makes me mad.

Call me double-minded. It's accurate. On one side, I could gleefully and with malice aforethought set fire to a Koran. On the other, I'd go to considerable lengths to stop it from being burned.

Flip this over. What would I think if someone burned a Bible? As paradoxical as this may seem to you, it won't bother me. Not a bit. Ok, I fudged a bit. It will bother me because the burning of any book bothers me. But I won't put the Bible into some special category. It's a book. That's what matters. I'd feel the same about a Bible burning as I would about burning a Douglas Adams novel.

Lemme close with this thought. Some Muslims decry the idea of veneration of objects, hence no pictures of Mohammed et al. Yet, these same people are willing to kill when a Koran is burned. That is object veneration, putting the item ahead of the message.

I'm not the only double-minded person here.

Freedom of secrecy

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How do I track thee? Let me hide the ways.

Among the lies by the current liar in chief is: A more open government. That was a campaign promise.

As we approach the nadir of this administration's first term (and with hopes of it being a altogether end of the administration), the results show yet another busted promise.

Not news. From 2009 comes this AP report. "The administration has stalled even over records about its own efforts to be more transparent. The AP is still waiting – after nearly three months – for records it requested about the White House's "Open Government Directive," rules it issued in December directing every agency to take immediate, specific steps to open their operations up to the public."

Gratuitous cuteness shot.

It has only gotten worse. Here's a report from liberals from about right now.

Not that the current prevaricator is anything worse that his predecessors. They all covered up, hid, obfuscated, lost the papers, transferred requests and engaged in massive government accounting practices to keep Americans from learning about government. 

But hey! This is the kind of government many people want. They want secrets. They want broken promises. They want lies. They want to be cheated.

Sorry. Rant off.

Anyway with the government bound and determined to keep secrets, have you wondered what the government has on file about you? I periodically do. I know they have a folder on me. Both are ideas I've expressed before.

But now I'm gonna see what I can pry out of their cold undead fingers. Yeah. Going to file a Freedom of Information Act Request on myself. You can do the same.

I wonder what the government has on file about you. Do you wonder the same?

Does it bother you that the government has a file on you? Does it smack of the KGB and secret police? Is it something any responsible government will do? How much is too much? What's just enough?

Will you volunteer information you think needs to be in the file, but is not?

If there is incorrect information, do you think you'll be able to get it corrected?

Frydee Funnie

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Oh Cos!

I was laughing so hard I couldn’t drive, which was OK ‘cause Dad was driving. The particulars of this drive are lost to history, but the tape in my tape deck (you young’uns know it as a CD or MP3) was The Dad, Bill Cosby, holding forth on his children.

My Dad wasn’t laughing.

Dad was nodding his head, beating Bill to some of the punch lines and generally agreeing with everything The Cos had to say. Back then, I figured Dad just didn’t appreciate good comedy. Now, I know The Cos is not a comedian. He’s a reporter, like me.

Like me, The Cos tells it exactly like it happened. He never had to make anything up. He just told the truth. Kinda like a City Council meeting - I couldn’t make that stuff up if I tried.

“DADDY!” Susan screamed from the pool.

“What?” I gently inquired putting down the measuring tape and square, promptly forgetting for the 523rd time that morning what I was measuring and why I was measuring it. You may think I forgot the measurement too, but you’re wrong. I never got that far.

“Jesse won’t quit looking at me,” she said.

Jesse was staring off into space, leaning on the wall, as if the most important thing in the world was a pecan tree leaf and whether or not it would fall in the pool.

I briefly considered telling Jesse to stare at his sister again and I’d join him. I knew this would irritate Susan beyond belief, so rather than risk electrocution by having two yelling, crying, soaked children join me in the middle of a snake’s nest of power tool cords, I grunted and returned to my weapons of math instruction.

“DADDY!” Susan screamed.

“What?” I asked, coming around the barn door for the 524th time in less than 10 minutes.

“Jesse won’t get out of my spot,” she said.

Jesse was in the exact same spot he’d been in for the past few minutes. The pecan tree leaf, apparently, was proving a tough customer even under the withering super-hero power-beam gaze my son apparently wields when no adult is watching.

“You gotta whole pool to be on the side of,” I said.

“That’s my spot,” Susan said.

I went back into the barn.

“DADDY!” Jesse yelled.

“At least it’s a different kid this time,” I muttered to myself as I rounded the barn door for the 525th time. When I say rounded, I mean it. I’ve rushed around the door so many times in response to a hair-standing scream that I’ve rounded the edge off and polished it to a high sheen.

“Yes?” I said.

“Susan hit me,” Jesse said.

“Did you hit her?” I asked, figuring I knew what the response would be. I have a 90 percent record of success on this question.

“Yes,” he said.

“Then it’s settled,” I said.

This time I just slipped inside the door and stood there.

“DADDY!” Jesse yelled.

I simply stuck my head around the door this time.

“Susan hit me,” he said.

“Well, did you hit her?”

“No,” he said.

Well, I’m right 90 percent of the time.

“Well, hit her and you’ll be even,” I said.

Rather than hit her, he opted to turn his Power Vision Crippling Eye Blast Gaze on Susan.

“DADDY! Jesse won’t stop looking at me,” Susan yelled.
--
amazon.com/author/benbaker
twitter.com/redneckgenius

Cause I can't resist the challenge

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Few things crank my tractor (and if you ever spent time around a John Deere 4020 you know the significance of that statement) like hate mail.

Charged. Pumped. Amped. Stoked. Fired up. Kickin. Insert extremely active descriptive phrase of your choice here.

Why? Not entirely certain. Probably has a lot to do with my being a rebel and one of the outcast. Setting aside the psychoanalysis, I still like hate mail.

The more inflammatory, threatening and heated the more I like it. Having been the recipient of death threats in the past, I must say I get an extra jolt from these. Topping my list of hate mail death threats are the ones I get from Animal Rights Activists.

I am presently on the receiving end of disjointed, obfuscatory, self-incriminating and contradictory diatribe on Facebook. You can find it on my page if you wish. You may have some problem in deciphering what is being said.

FEED ME!

Part of me feels quite guilty about engaging this person. Why?

He claims to be a Christian. I claim the same thing. Christians do not treat each other like this. Those who do treat each other like this and claim to be Christian are not, at least to my thinking.

Am I doing the right thing here? Am I living the kind of life I should be living? What kind of role model am I being?

Ain't good. Nope. Nope. Nope.

But I also do not claim to be perfect. I'm trying to get there, but the road is long and my legs are short.

Another part of me is massively enjoying this. As Shag said, if you attack me, I'll get face cramps from grinning. So far I've warded off the muscle spasms in my cheeks and jaws.

If you bother to check a bit you'll see the individual lists himself as disabled. I do not know his disability and while I might speculate, I shan't share these private thoughts with you. If you bothered to read the thread, you may have come to the same conclusions I have.

You may now wonder why I can take such delight in sparring with such a person. To be momentarily childish - he started it. Just for the record here, you do the same thing. Rather than take the mature adult road, you too will occasionally drop into 5 year old mode and do battle with mud, bodily excretions and other noisome materials.

That's not me. Bring a knife to a gun fight if you like.

Further if you have read the thread, you'll see this is not a battle of wits. One person in this fight is unarmed. You can figure out who.

So why am I taking on this incredibly obviously unbalanced argument? Because the other side of this argument claims to be a rational, cogent, coherent, terrestrial-autochthon Homo sapiens, thinks he's my cerebral superior and intends to prove it.

I can't resist a challenge like that.

Furthermore, as one of my favorite college professors, Jim Joseph, said. "Ben enjoys deflating stuffed shirts."
To put it another way, I'm a type of sadist. I take enormous delight in pointing out a person's self-contradictory beliefs, statements and actions, delusional beliefs and opinions. The harder they fall the more I like it. Bringing down an edifice of personal code brings me immense satisfaction, but only if the other person tries to rebuild as I tear down.

In other words, the harder they fight me, the more I enjoy it.

The only difference between me and you (if there is one) in this regard is I admit it. You do enjoy having the winning side in a debate.


If you look through this column hard enough, you're probably going to find the same inconsistencies which I so eagerly point out. S'ok. I know they are there and they do not bother me. I might even point them out to you if you ask. I'm not about to argue them with you.

Pat Robertson said what?

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Religious right ultranocommonsensetive Pat Robertson actually did come out and say he supports the legalization of marijuana. Betcha.

You're not paranoid if you have proof.

This has put him at odds with other Christian fundamentalist groups, like the American Family Association and others.

I note here many of these Christians, if they thought they could get away with it, would edit the Bible. There are parts of the Bible they will not discuss, do not like and wish they could excise.

I gleefully and loudly say to these people "He didn't turn the water into Tang!"

I have also pulled my Bible out and pointed to passages in it wherein people are directed to get drunk. Yes. The Bible specifically states there are times when a person should get falling down drunk. These circumstances are narrowly defined tho.

And it wasn't Ripple either.

But I get off topic again.

Mr. Robertson said he enjoyed a glass of wine now and then — “When I was in college, I hit it pretty hard, but that was before Christ.” He added that he did not think marijuana appeared in the Bible, though he noted that “Jesus made water into wine. I don’t think he was a teetotaler."

Our best records indicate marijuana was being used around the time the New Testament was written. But the Bible is silent on it.

Reckon why?

Mr. Robertson goes on to ask what is the real difference between marijuana and alcohol. I ask the same thing. 

For one thing, alcohol is more dangerous. Ever met someone fried on weed who wanted to fight? Ever met someone who wanted to fight after chugging a six pack?

 

Alcohol is listed as a major contributing factor in hundreds of fatal wrecks around the nation every year. As best I was able to find, one wreck in England listed marijuana as a major factor. I do not count the people who are distracted while trying to roll one as this kind of distraction can happen when trying to open a beer, adjust the radio, eat a sandwich, send a text message, watch a cow in a field and so on. 

Beyond this, I ask what gives government (i.e. YOU) the right to determine whether or not I can roll one?

Before you answer that, riddle me this.

How many people have died as a direct result of marijuana use? I mean the use of it killed them. Not incidentals, like rolling one while driving and crashing into a tree. I mean show me the number of people killed because marijuana poisoned them, clogged their arteries, gave them cancer, etc etc etc.

How many people have died as a result of alcohol abuse? Cirrhosis of liver comes to immediate mind. People who get drunk and beat up spouses and children come to mind. Drunk drivers come to mind.

The truth is - we don't know for sure.

Tobacco? How many people die annually from over the counter drugs? How about simply over eating?

Yeah, I know. I'm seeking rationality in the very embodiment of irrational. Government does not make sense. It's not designed to.

As for me, I'm not interested in smoking. But if you want to fire one up in the evening when you get home, I just don't see a difference between that and you having a beer after work.

No doubt my attitude and opinion here will cause even more "Christians" to ostracize and damn me as they do now upon seeing Blue Moon in the fridge and Knob Creek by my recliner. So be it. I ain't here to live for them, impress them or care about their opinion of me.

Jesus didn't turn the water in Tang. I don't know if He lit one up or baked some into the supper loaves, but I don't care either.

On that, Pat Robertson and I agree.

Heartburn of Conscience - II

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Yeah. Blame yesterday on the drugs I needed to keep my lungs in my chest and not splattered across my desk and the computer.  Anyway, refresh your confusion and I'll see if I can make more sense of Part II.

The problem I have is:

If you say you are going to play by the rules, does it matter if those rules are corrupted? If you do not like corruption, but agree to play by corrupted rules, is this hypocrisy?

A better way to look at this: Does the end justify the means?

I promised a for instance yesterday. I give you one. It is from politics.

Ron Paul. Full disclosure: I am a Ron Paul supporter and believe if he is elected, we will see Real Change.

Dr. Paul is the only national politician I am aware of who is consistent, adheres to his own code of conduct, doesn't bend to polls or attempt to curry favor. Dr. Paul speaks his mind, stands by that and refuses to apologize if someone is offended by what he says is the truth.

In short, exactly the kind of person people say they want in office. People also lie.

Anyway, Dr. Paul has long complained about the state of government. He has promised to clean up corruption and bring an end to idiocy at the federal government. He is continuing to say in his media releases the nation wants him.

And 2012 too.

Really? Check the election results. Dr. Paul has come in second in some states, but mostly comes in third and fourth since the other candidates in the Reboobican field dropped out.

The people who vote are saying they prefer another candidate.

Check.

The.

Votes.

In every primary election so far, the majority of people who voted, voted for someone other than Ron Paul. This is a fact which is not distorted.

The problem comes in states where primary delegates are selected after the vote. Ron Paul supporters have been trained to hang around afterward to be selected as a convention delegate. At the national convention, they will vote for Ron Paul.

Never mind most of the people they are supposed to represent do not want Ron Paul.

In other words, Dr. Paul's supporters are playing the system by the rules set up. But if Dr. Paul genuinely says the Will of the People should be followed, then he's being a hypocrite.

Does might make right?

The Will of the People is Ron Paul should not be the Reboobican candidate for president. But his supporters are gaming the system, playing exactly by the corrupted rules, in hopes of putting him in the driver's seat.

On one hand, Ron Paul & Co. believe in the electoral system. On the other hand, they are also subverting the electoral system. Never mind they are playing by the rules.

A truly ethical and honorable (I note here honor is a concept akin to nailing Jell-O to a tree and ethics vary from person to person) person will play by the correct rules and eschew bending those rules to personal benefit.

Dr. Paul et al are not bending the rules to personal benefit. They truly believe they are working for the better good of the nation.

But they are still playing by bent rules.

Typical American voter explaining his vote

This is a precedent. Having done it once, it becomes easier to do it again. And again. And again.

The most tyrannical dictators the world has ever seen use the excuse "the ends justify the means." National politicians use the same excuse.

How many times have you used "ends to means" as an excuse to justify hypocritical behavior on your part? How many times have you condemned others for doing the exact same thing.

The man in the mirror wants to have a talk with you.

Fridee Funnee

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Mo’s Place

I settled into my customary seat at Mo's Country Diner, Used Cars, Stump Removal, Friday Night Sushi Bar, Fresh Cut Bait Every Saturday Morning Emporium. Fats was already walking toward me with my usual order before the seat got warm.

The liars club was in full force already as evidenced by Fats having thrown her towel over shoulder. She only does that when it gets so deep that she has to wipe down the counter every few minutes to prevent what she calls a fertilizer buildup that would run off the other customers.

I don't know how many meals I've eaten there. My kids ate one of their first real meals there (not THE first). There's no telling how many gallons of iced tea, coffee and ice water I've downed, how many hamburger steaks and onions and fried chickens and ham & egg biscuits I've ingested. The parade of people who've walked, staggered, stumbled and sometimes crawled through those doors can't  be described.

Some of the holes in the naugahyde seats in the booths I created. I think my Grandpa created some of the holes when he was a young man. Mo refuses to have the seats recovered.

"Do you know how hard it is to kill a nauga these days? I went and killed and skinned enough naugas to cover the seats once and I ain't gonna do it again. I'd rather vote Reboobican," he says every time someone complains about the holes.

I can't swear to it, but I strongly suspect at least a few kids were conceived on those old seats during the lull between lunch and supper when Fats had to run out to get something and left a few customers in charge.

Each table has a pepper and salt shaker, ketchup bottle and hot sauce bottle. No matter how empty the Tobasco bottle appears, you can always shake one more drop out of it. Presumably the bottle does empty eventually because other Tobasco bottles scattered around the place hold toothpicks. Or maybe Mo ordered the bottles empty. I don't know.

Invariably someone will ask about the chicken feet glued to the top of the cash register. It's always someone new who asks "Why are there chicken feet on the cash register?"

"Because they fit!" the regular crowd roars.

"Because we ate the rest of the chicken for lunch," Mo says, pointing over his shoulder to the hand-written menu on the chalk board which always has "Fried Chicken" as a meat for lunch. The day Mo doesn't serve fried chicken at lunch the world will come to an end or Hillary Clinton will be elected president. Mo promises if this happens he's selling the place and moving to Iraq because it'll be safer.

"You let the Damnocrats take charge of this country and we'll be wishing we could ride in a handbasket," he says.

I still wonder about the bass Mo has mounted on one wall. A mounted bass on a wall in a business in South Georgia is not unusual. Bass mounted with a  fishing lure is not unusual. But a bass mounted on the wall with his fins posed to hold a really really small fishing lure with a cigarette at the end of the line, now that's different. Mo quit smoking years ago and about the same time the cigarette appeared on the end of the line. There's probably some metaphysical or existential connection there, but I don't want to know badly enough to ask Mo. I'd rather speculate.

Heartburn of the conscience - I

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You set the rules. When I play by them and win, do not complain.

Ahhhh shaddap.

Seems pretty simple and straightforward eh?

Here's another way of looking at that statement: Let me adjust my standards to be the same as yours.

This adjustment could be higher. It could be lower. It could be a lateral adjustment. To be completely fair, I must also admit no adjustment is necessary. We could have the same standards and rules going in.

But the idea expressed behind my little aphorism is that you (a general you and not directed at any specific person) are attempting to twist the rules to your benefit. Cheating, in other words.

So when I take my set of ethics, morals and standards and make the needed adjustments to line them up with yours, what does that say about me?

 Again, let's focus on the implication here. I have to lower myself. I ain't too happy about that.

But, the rules are the rules, right?

What do I do? I see three options.

• Walk away and have nothing to do with you and your arbitrary standards.

• Keep my own standards and compete anyway, knowing that my chance of success is in a serious tailspin.

• Lower myself. 

All three are viable depending on the situation.

If it is something that's not important, leave. F'r'instance: A vacant lot baseball game (Calvinball goes through my mind right about now), I can walk away. No worries.

If it is of some minor importance, or I don't care about the eventual outcome, I'll stick to my ideals and we'll rock.

But what if it is something of major importance? Ah. Now what? By what measure do you gauge the importance of the situation. How do you compare that to your ethical standards? Is it an absolute bar, or does it shift depending on the circumstances?

In case you wondered.

Arg. Complicated.

Lemme simplify - If you bend your own personal code of conduct, it's bent.

That's enough to chew on today. Tomorrow I plan to give you a real example of this, something that is bothering me quite a bit.

Lie to me...

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Revisiting an old subject because of a matter that came up last week.

The worst book ever written

The matter at hand is a book contest. I am a judge in the contest. The contest is mostly about marketing, how well the book is presented, designed, laid out, etc. Writing does figure into the judging, but only as a minor concern.

One of the entries submitted was one of the worst books I have ever read. Absolutely horrible writing. The problem is the writer is a WWII veteran, injured in the Philippine theater of the war. This is his first novel. It is self-published. After reading it, I can understand why. No publishing house would take this one on without some major rewriting, if it would take it then.

So, I judged the book on the marketing side - it got a grade of fair - and when it came down to the writing side, he got the expected marks. But the contest organizers also ask the judges to provide feedback to the authors and publishers. I gave feedback on the marketing side. I decided to skip the writing advice side. Call me a wuss if you will.

I am not going to be the one to tear this honored man down. That statement is some pretty hefty hubris on my part, n’est pas?

I declined to comment on the writing because of who this man is. His service to the country means a lot to me. As he’s old enough to be my grandfather to boot, who am I to criticize his writing? Hubris thusly retracted.

What we hear too much of

I am sure this man’s friends and family praised him for his work. Indeed anyone who actually writes a book is worthy of respect in my world. But I also seriously doubt he got any realistic feedback on the book.

In short, a lot of people lied to him.

As my longtime friend Paul (http://writeryourbabyisugly.blogspot.com/) opined, friends who tell you your book is great and so forth are not real friends. Real friends will take your manuscript and bleed all over it, hand it back to you and tell you in ultra precise terms what’s wrong, how to fix it and whether or not the MS is really worth any more effort. The real friends won’t lie about your MS.

Which brings me to the question du jour: Is it ever OK to lie?

My Christian friends will no doubt say it is never right to lie. I suggest they spend a bit more time reading the Old Testament. David, the paragon of the Old Testament lied a lot and was never accused of it being a misdeed. Lots of others did so as well with no punitive repercussions.

Some of my friends of other religious persuasions will say it is not OK to lie. I can’t tell you what their religious texts have to say about such matters.

A few of my atheist friends say it is quite all right to lie under certain circumstances.

I give you a real example. Grandma was dying. She knew it. We knew it. Congestive heart failure. She also had diabetes.

A month or so before she went on, she developed some black spots on the bottom of a foot. She asked what it was. We all told her we did not know.

We did know. It was necrosis, the step just before gangrene set in.

We lied to her.

I ask you, what good would be served by telling her it was pre-gangrene? Then she’d spend the last few days of her life worried about a doctor cutting her leg off. The problem with her foot was not important.

She went on to God intact. No doctor took a bone saw to her leg. She went to her Maker without worry.

Was it right to lie to Grandma under these circumstances?

If you say “no, you should have told her the truth,” you’ve got a much harder heart than I do.

FryDee Funnie

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Duct Tape, Nose Strips & Disposable Bras


My kids’ mother was flipping through the pages of one of those “intimate apparel” catalogues. “Look at this,” she said holding the book where I couldn’t see what she was talking about. “Disposable bras.”

I am not kidding

Immediately my finely honed reporter training kicked in. News was afoot. Then, my redneck attitude jumped in and beat my finely honed reporter training into a pulp and kicked it into a corner. News could wait, here was disposable underwear. Well. More disposable than usual.

One use disposable.

Well. You wear it one time and ...

OK, you WEAR IT FOR LESS THAN 24 HOURS and then throw it away.

Yes. Even if you only wore it as a bikini top once while bogging.

Indeed, there in full color stood two models posing with “disposable” bras. No strap, no hooks, no wires.

I am not kidding either.

Clamps help glue hold.

An observation on my part: While the male readers are now jumping up and down, wildly pumping their fists in the air and shouting “All right! About time!”, the female readers are going “Hmmm.”
Here’s the kicker. These “disposable bras” attach with adhesives. In other words, you stick ‘em on using the glue that comes attached to the bra.

Another observation: The male readers are now saying “Glue it on? Hey, wait a minute this may not be such a good idea after all.” The female readers are now saying “Glue? On me? Right there? I don’t think so!”

Once again I am forced to draw the conclusion that this is yet another plot to overthrow the pursuit of truth, justice and the Southern Way. It’s a conspiracy led by the granola-munchers out in California.

Continuing down the conspiracy road, perhaps you too have seen the “nose strips.” It’s a piece of tape you can strap across your nose and remove after 10 minutes or so. Supposedly the glue on the tape cleans the pores on your nose.

First time I saw this, Sally Jane Fishbreath (Hawgin’s wife) had one strapped across her nose.

“WHAT? When did you do that?” I asked.

Now in designer colors.

“Do what?” she asked.

“Break your nose,” I said.

“I didn’t break my nose.”

“Then why are you wearing a cast on your nose?”

“It’s not a cast. It’s a nose strip. It helps clean out the pores on my nose,” she said.

“You sure? Maybe Hawgin’ did break your nose.” I asked.

She gave me a look that said if Hawgin’ ever thought about breaking her nose, she’d break him into so many pieces that God couldn’t put him back together.

Hawgin’ was out back. I ambled around the house to find him.

He was in the yard, doubled over, eyes watering severely and using language which was killing his grass, begonias and putting a serious wilt in the kudzu in fence.

“What’s your problem?” I asked. “Sally Jane discover you were thinking about breaking her nose?

Hawgin's attempt at self brain surgery?

“No you blamed idiot. It’s them durn nose tape things,” he said. “Sally Jane done said it will help her nose, so I figgered it would do the same thing for me. It like to have ripped my nostrils out.”
I looked at the nose strip lying on the ground next to him.

“Uh, Hawgin’, I don’t think you are supposed to use it to get rid of nose hair,” I said. There on the ground, covered with hair and bits of nostril flesh and what very well could be brains, was the used nose strip.

“Fine time to tell me Baker,” he said.

Anyway, these nose strips and disposable bras are very expensive.

By now all should see the conspiracy lurking here.

HUZZAH!

First, the granola-munchers want Southerners to spend all our money on these things. Then, when we’re broke, our Southern Belles will get stuck in the glue on their chest. While this happens, the men will be outside doubled over in pain because the nose strips pulled out hair, nostrils, sinuses and brains.

The granola-munchers will move in and take over while we stand by helpless.

It’s time to strike back. We should start marketing duct tape as a new kind of weather-proof, water-proof shirt, adjustable-size shirt.

When the granola-munchers tape each other into a metallic gray ball, Southerners can run to the west and tip California into the ocean and be done with the whole matter once and for all.

Double Standards III

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Thought about this topic for the past 2 days? Come to any concrete conclusions? Made a firm decision? Not that you have to answer me anyway. As the Bard said "To thine own self be true." Remember that.

Refresh yourself Part I and Part II.

NOT POLITICS AGAIN!

I give you a real life example now. Getting political just for a moment. Bear with me.

The former president used "signing statements" to say a bill he signed into law did not apply to his administration. The Damnocrats wailed, gnashed their teeth and generally threw what we in the South call a hissy fit. The current president was among those throwing a tantrum.

The current president uses "signing statements" to say a bill he signed into law does not apply to his administration. The Reboobicans wail, gnash their teeth and generally have what we in the South call a hissy fit.

This is only one of many examples where the two presidents did exactly the same thing much to the chagrin of the opposing party and delight of their own party.

I call this thinking Idiotology.

And if it lands on the edge?

Let's get back to the central question, why is it OK for one person to do something and not OK for another person to do it? Whittle off variables until you are down to what amounts to two stick-man figures. One stick man can do it and the other stick man cannot.

If you reached a decision or you didn't, cool, either way. That gives us three options.

1) You decided double standards are acceptable

2) You decided double standards are not acceptable

3) You did not decide

Let’s look at these answers in reverse order.

If you never make a mistake, you never learn

If you did not decide, why? I will always accept an honest "I don't know" as a legitimate answer. But I don't think you can honestly give that answer. In this case, if you did not decide I tell you what Geddy Lee sings "If you choose not to decide you still have a made a choice." I think you decided in favor of double standards because you will not say they are wrong. Indecision is support of the status quo.

If you reached a decision, what grounds did you use for it? Doesn't matter what you decided. If you reached a decision, how did you get there? Regardless of your decision, did you base your decision on substance, facts and reality? Will your reasoning process stand up to my advocates diaboli attacks? Think so? Willing to put your words to the Redneck Genius Turing Test?

Hit me baby.

Or did you fall back on the excuse we ALL HATED to hear when we were kids "Because I say so." Your parents said that. It was a cop out then and it is a cop out now.

Working with reality here...

When you're dealing with equals, "because I say so" is truly an excuse. A cheap power play. An effort to exercise whatever atrophied muscles you have left. A pathetic attempt to self-justify what you know is wrong. You do it because you can. You have rejected reality and attempt to substitute your delusional view in its place.

In short - Might makes right.

Or, you are rebelling because you can. No real reason, just because you can. The worst part about being a rebel is living long enough to suffer the consequences of your actions.

In other words, your ship is busy sinking, still taking fire and you say "Damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead."

Eh. Philosophical meanderings that don't really anything while saying an encyclopedia.

Note to self...

Here's the real rubber on the road. However you decided, however you reasoned, if the opposing side uses the exact same arguments, what are you going to think about it?

Will you think they are being fair? Will you call them unjust? If it's good for the goose, the other goose deserves the same treatment.

If you set the rules and the other side plays by them, who is really at fault?

What does your decision really say about you? A better question - Do you want to associate with people who make decisions the way you do?

No particular reasons for this. I found it amusing.