Before you Vote!


I am thankful, blessed, fortunate, lucky, and down right giddy that throughout this election cycle, I did not reside in a battleground state. The term gets its name from a state that is too close to call for either candidate so myriad amounts of money are spent on political ads and events to the citizens ad nauseam.

I have reached my limit on mudslinging and false promises. Right now I’d choose a root canal over one more mindless debate. If politicians could be described in one word, it would have to be panderer. I say this because one of the candidates said we southerners cling to our guns and religion. My answer is, “so, what’s your point?” Yet a few weeks later the same candidate spoke in a church and talked about reconciliation and harmony.

I laugh at the old story of two politicians that argued over religion and politics. In a fit of anger one said, “I bet $50 that you’re so dumb you don’t even know the Lord’s Prayer.” The opposing candidate said, “you’re on”. He then began to recite, “The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want.” Before he finished, the first candidate reached in his pocket for the money and said, “Rats, I didn’t think you knew it.”

I don’t want my candidate to be all things to all people. I want him to have convictions rooted in the Constitution. I want a candidate that has honesty as his moral compass, and I want one who fears his Creator. I can respect an individual like that. Oh, and it would be a nice change if they exhibited more common sense and restraint than a five year old with a ten dollar bill in a candy store.

One thing I can never get used to is this; The White House has five full-time chefs, the kitchen is able to serve dinner to as many as 140 guests at the drop of a hat. The First Family has at their immediate disposal a posh resort called Camp David, a helicopter to get there to avoid traffic and the White House grounds sports a variety of facilities including a tennis court, jogging track, swimming pool, movie theater, billiard room, and a bowling lane. And this is all for one family.

With this in mind, Mr. President to be, please don’t tell those of us who are living pay check to pay check that you feel our pain. It comes across a little insincere when you are eating a truffle at your weekly galas.

Election Day is one of the greatest privileges you have as an American. Please go and make your vote count. And don’t complain, it doesn’t matter if our only choice is the evil of two lessers.

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Does Anyone Know Who the Bad People Are?


Some years ago I attended a convention, I saw an attendee who looked like the lead actor in a horror movie called “Offspring of the Parrot People.” I’m no prude and I believe everyone should find their niche in life, but looking like a cross between a purple emu and a gang biker is a bit much. Was this person a fine upstanding person or not? I couldn’t tell. This made me realize that someone needs to write a book on how one can spot a good or bad person. It would sure help us make a decision in the polling booth.

The most difficult thing about this country’s new generation is you can no longer tell who is the good guy or the bad guy. In the 1920’s through the 1950’s, the bad guy could always be picked out by his hat; it was black. In the 1960’s, it was determined by the length of hair. Now in the new millennium even the worst of criminals looks like a department store mannequin that shops at Macy’s.

Case in point, I was late for my flight in Houston recently and because of increased security, I was delayed in boarding my plane. Imagine my dismay when as I entered the metal detection chamber prior to getting to my gate, the blasted thing went off. Five times I reentered the chamber only to be told that my body was still “riddled” with offending metal. Potential bomb making particles you know! It didn’t matter that at this point I was minus my shoes, suspenders, coins, glasses, wallet, keys, and Lord knows what else. Looking guilty- and who wouldn’t, spread-eagle against the wall with a burly attendant running a salami wand up and down your legs. I found myself actively holding up one hand to the wall and holding up my Khaki’s with the other so that the frustrated line behind me wouldn’t catch a glimpse of me in my jockeys.

I’m an average-looking American. I’ve always paid my taxes. The only thing I was spared was a strip search and making me cough, though I’m not sure that wasn’t bantered among the three security guards. Needless to say, after I secured my Chino’s and gathered my belongings, I was stunned to see a young woman pierced with every conceivable metal except lead, walk through the metal detection chamber unfettered like she was returning an overdue book to the library. “Where is the justice”, I thought. She looked like a fish tackle magnet and this didn’t set off the alarm or was considered out of the ordinary?”

Maybe what someone needs to do is write a book on how to spot a less than stellar person. Maybe a quiz would help. On a scale of 100, take 10 points off for a pierced body part that looks like a dented garbage can lid, 15 points for an open or broken pants zipper, 15 points for a misspelled tattoo and 5 points for shaving off your hair for no earthly reason and looking like an ostrich egg or 35 points for picking your nose during the long commute. Now I know that no person can ever achieve 100 percent; after all, how many of us have been guilty of the latter? Now add up the scores of each person you evaluate and get your desired answer, good or bad. Do you know what a book like this would fetch from desperate fathers who meet their daughter’s boyfriend for the first time and need solace?

Now for a book sequel: “How Can you Tell who is Rich and Who is Poor?” I can see the sales already!

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Want to be scared Halloween? Fly


I am not a fan of Halloween. I do see one scant benefit. It’s the only time of year where being exceedingly ugly garners you more popularity than anyone else, and you get candy. Actually I don’t understand all the hype. If you really want to be scared, bring your flashlight to my house, go into a closet and I’ll show you my checkbook. In fact skip the flashlight, even with the lights on, my bank ledger makes my wife scream.

So, what scares Americans this time of year? A walk in the cemetery at midnight? Your mother-in-law announces she’s moving in with you? Now that should send a shudder down anyone’s spine.

We all understand fears; spiders, snakes, Yankee’s with U-Hauls, but an airplane? Have you noticed the size of airplane seats today? Despite the fact that the American posterior is expanding faster than donut dough in a frying pan, the airline industry plans on shrinking seat sizes to add more seats. I am wondering if a five foot shoe horn and a five gallon bucket of Vaseline that it will take to fit me into my seat will be allowed as a carry-on?

Don’t let my less than rosy opinion of airlines spook you. Listen to what the website “Smarter Travel” said about airline service this week. Water in the plane holding tanks can be sourced in foreign locations, thus the water and coffee served by the airlines can have an increased risk of serious bacterial infection.

The article stated airplane bathrooms are deplorable. Almost every spot in the bathroom tested positive for E. coli. It’s not that much safer in the cabin either. Ever see a mommy change her baby’s diaper on a tray table? That may explain why 60% of all tray tables tested positive for the superbug MRSA. My carry-on will now be made exclusively of wet wipes?

Well at least the hardware of the plane is safe, right? Well not according to a number of passengers who flew on American Airlines recently. Mid-flight their seats unbolted from the floor. I’ll give the airline a pass on this as long as any seat that comes loose in the future serves to eject unruly passengers, children or obnoxious Yankee Fans.

And finally, recent incidents of adrenalin rushes on planes include; escaped snakes, cheetahs, mice, scorpions, and cockroaches.

I think next time I fly I’ll dress up like a cast member of the Wizard of Oz. Lions, and Tigers, and Bears oh my!

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We’re Running Out of Hand Baskets


Have you ever heard of the saying, “The world is going to hell in a hand basket?” Well I have news, we’re running out of hand baskets! Three events this week prompted me to reach this conclusion. First, I have absorbed all I can take of absurd politicians and inane celebrities. The first example, a garden replete with meadow muffins and barnyard biscuits concerns the new president of France. Francois Hollande announced this past week that he will end homework as part of a series of reforms to overhaul the country’s education system. That’s right, he’s ending homework for students. And the reason he wants to ban homework? He doesn’t think it is fair that some children get help from their parents at home while children who come from single parent homes do not. Thus eliminate it for everyone!

This logic makes about as much sense as a kickstand on a tank. I guess the society of excellence, Who’s Who, will now be replaced in France by What’s What?

Meanwhile in Great Britain, Prince Harry embarrassed the Royal Family yet again. He did it this time by acting like a moron by cavorting without clothes while publicly bear hugging a woman who was also sans clothing. In defense of the prince a witness told the British newspaper The Sun that, (this is priceless) “his actions were gentlemanly, because he was only trying to protect the girl’s modesty from onlookers. I would file this lame excuse with, “the dog hit control-alt-delete on the computer with his paws and my homework was erased! Hey, we still do homework in the good ole USA.

The last case involves the University of North Carolina- Chapel Hill. Talk about insanity. The school leadership removed the word “freshman” from official university documents, citing as their reason an attempt to adopt more “gender inclusive language.” Though they did not say what the term of replacement for freshman would be, I can assure you that many young female students will be embarrassed. That’s because they’ll have to introduce their new boyfriends to their parents as “fresh-persons”. The students even shared their opinions that the ruling is in their words, “stupid”.

UNC, let’s not end the foolishness here. From now on, the campus cafeteria shouldn’t serve Eskimo pies, it may offend Native Americans and vending machines shouldn’t sell crackers because it is a slang for rich white guys.

I sure have a renewed hope knowing that one day my future rests in the hands of politically correct Fresh-Persons, don’t you?

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