What About Our Daughters?

The Greatest Achievement of Western civilization has been the elevation in the status of women. During my lifetime, the free world has benefited greatly from the contributions of intelligent, courageous women. But we still have a way to go.

From birth until they start school, little girls are treated as what they are, precious but fragile assets of the human race. As adults, women are given more opportunities than at most any other time in recorded history. Once relegated to become nurses or school teachers, women are now accepted, and they excel, in almost every profession.

But, about the time little girls start school, something happens. Their TV fare turns from Teletubbies, Big Bird and other gentle fare to an onslaught of material, purposely intended to turn them into tramps. And not just TV: movies and magazines join the cry to become sexy. Dress sexy. Act sexy. Talk sexy. Be sexy. TV is usually the most watched medium and TV has become the leader in the barrage of sex. Can you say Lindsay Lohan, Britney Spears, or Miley Cyrus... beautiful, talented little girls that TV producers have instilled with the wrong set of values.

It is as though the medium has decided to test little girls to the extreme: if they can survive this, they may grow up to be successful adults.

I am all for teaching little girls to care about their appearance, their bodies, their behavior. Obesity is an ugly and an unhealthy trait. Little girls should be taught to seek an attractive appearance and good manners, valuable assets in the pursuit of a career.

But, sexy? Should female children be reared for the primary purpose of enhancing the sexual fantasies of men? Have we not yet risen above the standards of Solomon, the supposedly wise king who used his wealth and power to capture and hold a harem beyond counting?

Aren't a clean healthy appearance and gracious manners appealing? Or have we become so desensitized by pornography that we cannot appreciate a young woman unless she bares her body in public?

Parents often fear the prospect of their sons joining the military and going off to battle. I fear the prospect of sending my granddaughters off to school.

We have a way to go.

The Saddest Words,
Of Six or Ten...

There are a lot of sad words on TV news these days... earthquakes and tsunamis; riots, protests, civilians killed by their own governments. Today's news was no exception. The death and destruction from tornadoes was sad, indeed.

But another terribly sad story today was the news that Scotland Yard is planning unprecedented security during Prince Williams wedding. Unprecedented security? For a wedding? What has this world come to? In London, long a center of civility - can a couple not be married without real and imminent danger to their lives? Even a Royal couple?

Something is terribly wrong. And it seems to be getting worse. Earlier this year crowds attacked two members of British Royalty passing by in their car. That crowd shouted, "Off with their heads." Does Scotland Yard fear that the shouting will transform into action this time?

We once saw the Russian Royal family dragged into the woods and summarily executed. We said that should never happen again... but will it be attempted?

This past weekend, in Portland, OR and in at least two other cities, we witnessed the most horrible displays by crowds who disagreed with groups of people exercising their Constitutionally protected right to peaceably assemble. These assembled groups were expressing their dissatisfaction with government policies. Why were they being harassed?

In America, the Tea Party protesters (myself included) have displayed respect for law and order; for the rights of others, including property rights; and for principles of decency. But, what should we do if physically attacked by those who disagree with us?

History has proven that, today, the Christian attitude of turning the other cheek may well result in your getting a broken jaw - or worse. History has also taught that remaining silent in the face of wrongs by a runaway government will always make the problem worse - not better.

Are we reaching the point where we cannot peaceably protest - but cannot decline to protest?

Can outbreaks of violence be far off?

Dumb & Dumber

It is universally agreed that Jimmy Carter was the worst president in U.S. history. Why, then, do we continue to spend billions to sustain one of the dumbest of his dumb ideas?

I well remember his campaign rhetoric: "...we do not have a national energy policy. That is a disgrace...".

President Jimmy was going to end our dependence on foreign oil. So, when he became president, he formed the Department of Energy. That deformed appendage to the government is the biggest failure of my lifetime (our dependence on foreign oil has multiplied) yet we are set to spend another $30 billion in the next budget to sustain it. $30 billion! That is 30,000 times one million dollars!

When do sensible people say... "Ooops! That was a mistake! Stop doing that!" Apparently never.

Remembering 1959

1959 was a very busy year in my broadcast career, working on an application for a radio station license. As a result, I was frequently out of touch with the news.

The part I am now remembering, is the part about Cuba. For some years (over two separated terms) Cuba was run by Fulgencio Batista. Batista was reputed to be a bad guy - I was never in Cuba, so I can only go by what others said. The U.S. backed Batista and he kept the island wide open to the pleasure business - gambling, partying, prostitution. Reportedly with connections to U.S. mafia crime families.

But, then came "The Cuban Revolution", somewhat headed by a one-time Cuban political activist named Fidel Castro, his younger brother Raul, and the mass murderer Che Guevera. Castro had been kicked out of Cuba, but returned from exile to take on the Batista forces. This was supposedly a people's revolution, an uprising for freedom and democracy. Castro found help in the U.S., but maybe only from Cuban exiles. Eisenhower was the U.S. President and Ike was not one to jump into a fray with his eyes closed.

After The Revolution became successful, freedom loving democrat Fidel announced that he was really a Marxist. Boy, did we feel snookered! We had cheered for someone we knew nothing about.

So, you will forgive this old man if, today, as we again support "rebel" forces we do not know (this time in the Middle East), I wonder if we're about to be snookered again.

That last mistake caused us grief that has stretched 52 years, and still counting! Off the top of my head, I'd say we are slow learners.

A diet that works.

America is overweight. Scores of people have offered a solution... a diet of some sort which they guarantee will reduce your weight. Nearly everyone has tried one or more of these diets. Most people fail to lose weight.

For years, I weighed about 175 pounds. In recent years, thanks to reduced physical activity and the pleasure of eating, my weight increased to 190 pounds. Most of my trousers became too tight to wear. I longed to again see 175 when I stepped on the scale.

One month ago, both my wife and I contracted some sort of stomach disorder which affected our appetites. We almost quit eating for several days. If we forced some food down, our stomachs objected rather decisively. I lost 14 pounds. Wow! The scale said 176! (My petite wife, always a light eater, lost 4 pounds).

When my affliction had passed, I wondered if I could keep the weight off. That, I reasoned would require some adjustment in my eating habits and some increase in physical activity.

I have always believed in a balanced diet and enjoy meats of all kinds, vegetables raw and cooked, along with fruits, bread, etc. My wife knows that if she puts it on my plate, I will eat it. Being a child of the depression, long taught "waste not, want not", I always cleaned my plate.

I decided to begin with smaller portions. Much smaller portions. My wife served a salad, grilled boneless pork chops, baked potato and green beans. I took about one half the amount of salad I would normally eat and added a very small amount of dressing; I cut about one-third of a pork chop; likewise, about one-third of a baked potato with a small amount of butter and no added salt; took a spoon of green beans and ate very slowly. To my surprise, I was satisfied with that meal.

I usually have a glass of wine or a snifter of brandy after dinner. I wondered it I was becoming "hooked" on that daily drink and if I could be happy without it. I stopped drinking daily, just to prove I could. Yes, I'll still drink a beer with pizza or Mexican food - happily I do not miss the daily drink.

Out for a drive last week, we stopped at a hamburger place, ordered a #1... a small burger, small fries and a drink. My wife took the drink, I had water. She cut the little burger in half and we also split the fries. Our appetites were satisfied.

Do I get hungry? A little. But I am not in agony. And now, when I eat with others, I gasp at the way they pile their plates with food!

This morning, one month after this all began, the scale still said 176.

So, here is the secret... quit eating so much!

Every day I find it takes less and less food to satisfy my appetite.

Can I keep this up? We shall see. My "diet" requires that I stay aware - totally aware - of what I am eating (every meal - no more between meal snacks), until my eating habits become more firmly fixed. I once read where some guy said that if he had been diagnosed as color blind and tone deaf, he would have become a painter and a musician out of pure cussedness. Like he, I hope to do it through pure cussedness!

Words.

Once a friend and I were discussing the definition of certain words. He reminded me that a dictionary is more a history book than a rule book. Definitions given are based on how words are being used, so definitions will change.

Sometimes I find those changes amusing.

The German company Bayer is currently airing a TV commercial for their aspirin. In this commercial an airline passenger asks an attendant if she has anything to relieve back pain. She gives him Bayer aspirin. He explains that he is not having a heart attack... he has back pain. She replies that aspirin works for pain.

I am an old man. All my life I have used aspirin as a pain reliever or to reduce fever.

But, some researcher pointed out that aspirin also slows the clotting of blood. Under certain conditions, this fact can help prevent a blood clot from forming and moving into the heart muscle - which event could cause a heart attack. This power of aspirin has been widely promoted of late: "an aspirin regimen can help prevent a heart attack". Why not? an "aspirin regimen" means taking an Aspirin daily... sells a lot of Aspirin!

Does Bayer now actually believe people no longer know that aspirin's first use has always been as a pain reliever?

Gives me a headache. Anyone have an aspirin?

This Day In History...

Today is the anniversary of an event you probably won't hear mentioned today, but one you surely will remember... even if you didn't know or remember the date.

It was on March 23, 1775, in the House of Burgesses. The debate had turned to the rising movement of Independence from the oppressive King of England. One can imagine that some of the members were indecisive and reluctant to declare a position in what would amount to a war against their homeland.

Finally one member grew impatient with the uncertainty and demanded of his colleagues, "Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery? Forbid it, Almighty god! I know not what course others may take; but as for me, give me liberty or give me death."

Patrick Henry, 236 years ago, today.

Henry's actions matched his words, he left politics to become a Colonel in the 1st Virginia Regiment. Perhaps it was his fiery rhetoric which inspired my own Revolutionary War ancestor to also join a Virginia regiment. Though not Henry's 1st Regiment, my ancestor must have known of the Colonel as they served in General Washington's Army at Valley Forge and beyond.

After the war, Patrick Henry again entered politics and became Virginia's Governor.

I have a special affinity for Patrick Henry's unabashed patriotism. It was with a burst of patriotic fervor that I, 65 years ago, as a seventeen year old private in the United States Army, had the words "Death Before Dishonor" tattooed on my arm.

Never too old to learn!

I re-learned that old lesson once again! It came about when my wife, daughter, son-in-law and I enjoyed an outing in our beautiful desert. We drove our old Jeep Cherokee to a spot along the Rio Grande and found ourselves on very soft, loose, dry sand. As always, my wife shifted into four-wheel-drive and easily moved out of the sand onto firm soil.

When she shifted back to two-wheel drive, the "sound" from the transfer case did not change. The 4WD did not disengage. We drove the 30-odd miles to home, and smoke began to boil from the bottom of the vehicle.

The lesson I learned?

We have all been taught the importance of regularly lubricating our cars, on a specific schedule. This has spawned an industry... "The Fast & Easy Lube & Oil Change Joints". Competition has led them to ever lower prices.

I recently took another car to a Pep Boys outlet in response to an advertised low price of something like a $19.95 lube, oil and filter special. I agreed to an extra $5 for high mileage oil for my high mileage vehicle. I think $24.95 was to be the total price. When I picked up my car, the tab was $37.95, plus tax, about double the $19.95 that drew me in. I objected and was shown that my receipt contained a certificate for a $13 rebate! Wow! All I had to do was package up all the "proof of purchase" information and mail it to a distant address, wait six weeks or so, and I would get the $13 rebate by mail.

Understand, the purpose of a rebate is two-fold. First, a given percent of customers will lose their proof-of-purchase material, or procrastinate past the deadline to apply. At best, the seller will get to use your money for a few weeks. The rebate deal was not revealed up front or I would have walked. Only when I objected to the price did they explain the rebate. Had it not been for this, I doubt I would have examined the receipt to learn of the rebate. If Pep Boys ripped me on price, what other corners may they have cut?

The cut rate instant lube joints cut every possible cost. We may believe that they actually do lubricate every grease fitting... but we can never know how many, if any, they skip.

They do drain your oil, replace the oil filter and refill the crankcase. Do they use the full amount of oil necessary? Better check your oil to find out. Do they check any other fluids? Maybe. Maybe not. Did you verify? Probably not. Did they replace those fluids with quality brands?

Now, the lesson learned. I took the smoking Jeep to a full service garage, run by honest people. You can imagine I was faced with a huge cost to rebuild the transfer case. But, no... the only problem? The transfer case had not been checked for a long, long time and had completely dried up. They just re-filled the thing with the correct transmission fluid and it worked perfectly again. They asked me to drive it for a short time, then bring it back so they could check for leaks.

Okay! Here is my advice! The cheapest thing you can do for a car is to keep it properly lubed on the manufacturer's schedule. That is savings enough. Don't look for a quick and cheap lube job. Find a good, honest operator of a full-service garage. Ask them to specify that they check all fluids, and lube everything properly. When you pick up your car, you may ask some questions, like, "How was the water level in the battery?" "Was the transmission fluid low?".

Don't worry about the price. Whatever they charge will be less than a new transmission.

One more scream!

I get a little tired of hearing young TV pundits state that "seniors" want to cut spending until you mention Social Security, then they scream. Well, friends, they have a right to scream.

We didn't ask for Social Security. When I turned 13 and took my first job away from the family farm, I was told I had to have a social Security Card... and, it was FREE! So the government tapped into every paycheck I ever earned... for fifty years. As employers most of our adult life, my wife and I paid both the employee and the employer half to FICA.

"But, you are drawing more than you paid in!", they insist. My friend, the dollars we paid in were closer to real, unlike the dollars we're being paid today. In 1941, one of my dollars would buy over six gallons of gasoline. It would buy 12.5 quarts of milk. Or 24 White Castle hamburgers. Or 3 hot roast beef sandwiches.

And we worked hard for those dollars! My first job was pruning and tying tomato plants for 8¢ per 100 plants. Then I worked a dairy delivery route (5:00 a.m. until 3:00 p.m.) for $2. a day. Until I entered the Army, no job ever paid more than 42¢ an hour.

Also, as an employer, I paid thousands out of my pocket in state unemployment compensation. The only time I ever drew unemployment pay was when I was discharged from the Army. They offered me $20 a week for a maximum of 52 weeks. Today people get 99 weeks - almost two years at something near their last full pay.

In 1941, it took $33.85 to buy an ounce of gold. Today it will take $1,430 to buy that ounce. That is how much the government has devalued the dollar. If my monthly Social Security check were divided by that same ratio, it would be about $28.! Still sound like I am drawing more than I paid?

All those dollars we paid Social Security were supposed to be safely locked in an interest-bearing account. We trusted the government to invest those dollars wisely. Instead they stole our money to buy votes. Then they borrowed trillions more, to buy more votes. Now they want us to "sacrifice" to pay back their debt.

I know it is not going to happen, but I would like to see hundreds of politicians thrown in jail for armed robbery. Yes, armed! Refuse to pay your taxes and see who comes to call! They will be armed.

Beans.

An elderly friend was recently released from the hospital following surgery. One of his daughters drove him home and offered to cook dinner for him and for her mother. His choice? Beans and cornbread. That made me smile as my request would have been the same! I love beans!

Years ago I heard someone interview Louis Armstrong. Asked to name his favorite meal. In his husky, gravely voice, Armstrong replied, "Red beans and rice".

Rice was not all that common where I grew up in Missouri, beans certainly were. Plentiful, cheap and delicious. And dry beans are so easy to store and transport.

A friend once told me a story from the depression era. When he and his wife were married, they found a job on a large farm. The job was for the entire year and part of the job was a small cabin in which to live while employed. The cabin had rudimentary furnishings, a wood-burning kitchen stove, a few pots or kettles and some dishes. Someone gave the newlyweds a big sack of beans, and my friend had a dime. 10 cents! He walked several miles into the nearest town and bought 10¢ worth of salt pork. The couple lived on beans, flavored with the salt pork, until their first payday when they could buy some additional groceries.

As a kid in a country school, I and other farm kids, often brought cold bean sandwiches for lunch. A big pot of beans, kept overnight in the icebox would become stiff enough to spread on a thick slab of homemade bread to make a sandwich.

When I started my first business, a businessman mentor advised me not to worry if success was not immediate. "You grew up on beans", he said, "you can always go back to beans if things get slow." They did get slow at times, and I did go back to beans. But, I still love a big pot of beans, even when things are going well!

Today my preference is for pinto beans, soaked overnight in cold water, then cooked all day in a Crock Pot with some ham hocks. Serve them with lots of fresh, chopped onions and a couple of spoons of hot salsa! Cornbread tops off the meal. Wow! I truly feel sorry for people who never learned how much simple pleasure is found in a big bowl of beans!

Lies, damned lies and statistics

Mark Twain is credited with first uttering those words. I'll buy that. But I want to talk only about damned lies.

My great disappointment today is that so many Americans are totally ignorant about history... and have no particular interest in learning the facts.

The other day I heard someone, speaking on behalf of the Wisconsin labor unions in their dispute with Wisconsin Governor Walker, that America owed the forty-hour work week to labor unions.

Sorry, folks! That is a damned lie.

In 1913, Henry Ford brought the moving assembly line to his fledgling factory for building Ford Model T cars. The assembly line worked well, but it was tough on workers. If a worker paused a moment to catch his breath, the car he was working on moved on down the line, minus the part or adjustment he was supposed to make. The frustration was so great, many workers just quit their job.

Henry Ford brought in new workers. but these new people did not know how to do the job and more problems resulted. So, Mister Ford changed things.. he doubled... yes doubled the pay to workers on the line, reduced the day to eight hours, and reduced the work week to five days... the forty-hour week! 1914! Henry Ford!

(Toyoto, after meeting with Henry Ford, later further improved on the problem by giving workers the ability to stop the line for a moment!)

So, when the spokesman for organized labor says America has the union movement to thank for the forty-hour week... it is just.... yes... a damned lie!

Remembering A Sweet Fishing Spot

About sixty years ago, a fellow employee, a guy named Otis Miller, introduced me to his favorite fishing hole. It was on the Rio Grande River. Otis was the oldest member of our radio station's staff, and we naturally called him "Pop".

About a mile below the big power generating dam that formed the Elephant Butte Reservoir, the river took a sharp right turn. Just before the turn, a hiway crossed the river. In building the bridge, the engineers had dumped huge rocks on both banks, to reinforce the abutments to the small bridge.

When the Bureau of Reclamation was generating power at the dam, and the river was at full flow, the clear, cold water was well up into these rocks, causing a rapid swirling of the water. This action of the water upended small shad and other forage fish. Largemouth bass hung on the downstream side of these rocks and easily nabbed the disoriented fish.

Just around the curve, the opposite bank was solid rock. Water crashing against this rock embankment had scoured out the bottom and the water ran still and deep. Lots of people liked to sit on top of this embankment and fish the still water below, using live minnows as bait. But Pop knew more about game fish, and knew that was not the spot.

You couldn't use minnows as bait on the turbulent side of the river under the bridge, as the swirling water would tear them from your hook. So, Pop Miller found an artificial bait called a Crippled Shad. when cast into the rocks, this bait perfectly duplicated the action of real shad, thrown about in the water.

The first time Pop took me to his sweet spot, I quickly caught a bass. Pop was an avid photographer, and insisted on taking a picture of me with my fish. He instructed me to hold it at arms length toward the camera, to make the fish look bigger! (Maybe the camera doesn't lie... but fishermen do!)


(Those are not UFOs in the upper left corner. Pop made this print for me and one of my two-year-old twins did what babies always do.. she chewed on it!)

In the months after this picture, I caught many more fish at the sweet spot, but I never saw another fisherman fishing the turbulent water in the big rocks.

Recently I had occasion to drive to the old sweet spot. Alas. A new bridge had been built alongside and downstream of the old bridge, completely changing the character of the river banks. At the time, the flow from the dam was closed, but you can see a recent high water mark on the other bank of the river.


Wooden pilings of the old bridge are visible under the new bridge. You can even see a few of the remaining big rocks that created the sweet spot.

Yes, the new bridge is nice. But this picture makes me sad.

Wisconsin

Union busting? I hope so! I have been openly opposed to the activities of labor unions since I was about seven years old. At that time - the mid 1930s - my father was employed by a major oil refinery. Having experienced a period of homelessness at the onset of the depression, he was very grateful for his job. He worked hard, sometimes long hours, for a flat weekly salary. He believed the company was fulfilling it's end of the bargain and he was determined to fulfill his end.

Then, along came the Oil, Chemical and Atomic Workers union. They promised shorter hours, higher wages. But it concerned my father that they were totally one-sided. Every consideration was for the worker - no consideration was given the employer. No concern for the need to keep the company profitable in order to maintain its work force.

What concerned him more was the tactics of the union leaders, always a threat of force to achieve their goals. Never an approach that held fairness an objective. Only anger and a mean spirit.

The Union succeeded in organizing the work force and the shorter hours and better pay followed. But the relationship with the company was never again the same. No longer were they all on the same team. Now it was a perpetual adversarial atmosphere. Work became decidedly less pleasant.

As a footnote, the refinery where Dad was employed is no longer in operation.

I have never forgotten the way the union affected my father.

Years later, as a radio announcer, I experienced an attempt by the American Federation of Television & Radio Artists to organize the announcers at the station where I worked. One of the Union organizers spoke of breaking the legs of the station manager if he failed to grant their demands. That so angered the announcers that the attempt to organize our staff failed.

In the ensuing years I have witnessed an unending stream of corrupt activities on the part of union leaders.

Today, union supporters are claiming credit for things like the forty-hour week, overtime pay, sick leave, and so forth. They deserve no such credit.

The true credit goes to the free market and smart business practices. Once, on a talk program, our station interviewed a member of the famous DuPont family. He said his company had proven to themselves that retention of quality employees was profitable to the company. They granted many concessions toward that end, even paying for the further education of great employees who had reached the limits of their abilities, all while keeping them on the payroll.

In the 1960s, as chairman of a Chamber of Commerce committee charged with attracting new business to our community, I headed research into what inducements companies sought when considering expansion or relocation. Topping the list was a quality lifestyle in the community. Time and again, we were told that companies would have to send top leadership employees to launch a branch in a new community. Under no circumstances would they risk sending their best people to a place where they would be unhappy and possibly quit their jobs. Tax inducements and other financial perks were desired, but parks, theater, quality schools, low crime rates and affordable housing came first.

The days of the sweatshop ended long ago. So did the need for organized labor.

In the case of public employees, the employer is "the people", whereas the person negotiating with the unions on their behalf is often a politician whose election was financed by the very union with which he is to negotiate. What more evidence could you want for ending collective bargaining for public employees?

On registering as an Independent.

...or not!
There are occupations which make it difficult for a person to declare their political party affiliation. Take a news reporter. Everyone already thinks people in the news business are biased. Why give them "proof"?

Beyond that, I have never understood the reason for registering as an Independent. There is one. A late, long time friend was an unyielding Democrat. In the latter years of his life he became disillusioned with some of the Democrats policies, but said "My father would turn over in his grave if I became a Republican. Voila! Register as an Independent! No one will ever know which lever you pulled on the voting machine and you have not become a Republican!

But, it all boils down to the same reason... to mask your political preferences. Except for the privilege of voting in a primary, your party affiliation does not affect your vote. On election Day you vote your preference - any party. And nobody knows how you voted.

Having said all that, there is a reason not to register as an Independent. When you next enter a booth to vote for POTUS, there will be two viable choices, a Republican and a Democrat. When you cast your vote (unless you throw it away by voting for Donald Duck, or some out-of-contention candidate), you will vote for a Republican or a Democrat.

If you are registered as an Independent, you will have had no voice in choosing the major candidates. By joining either the Republican or Democrat Party, you can participate in all the preliminary events leading to the nomination - including primary elections. Why not participate in that effort?

Finally, as suggested in the bible, "luke warm" is worthy only of being spewed out of ones mouth. (Rev. 3: 15-16) I like backbone. I like people who stand up for what they believe. Decide which political party's platform most closely matches your beliefs. Then join them. Help shape and support them.

Living in Literalville.

When I first heard that term from radio talk show host Rush Limbaugh, I instantly affirmed that I was a proud citizen of Literalville.

Not just in things political - in many other areas as well. Years ago I was in a gallery of some sort and saw a painting that depicted a farmer working with a single horse and a walk-behind cultivator. It seemed like the work of a gifted artist, but when I took a close look, I laughed out loud. When a horse is pulling any farm implement, it is fitted with a padded collar that fits snugly against the animals chest and shoulders. Tough leather straps, called traces, are attached to this collar and to the implement to be pulled.

To help the farmer control the animal, it is also fitted with a bridle, equipped with a steel bit which fits in the horse's mouth. Attached to the ends of the bit are light weight leather straps called reins. With a gentle pull on either strap, the farmer can guide the horse to move to the left or to the right. In the aforementioned painting, it was the reins, not the traces attached to the implement. No horse would ever be called upon to pull a cultivator with its tender mouth! Obviously, that artist was not from Literalville.

Now it is TV commercials that drive me nuts. In a commercial for Pictsweet vegetables, the spokesman deplores the fact that so few know of the company. Behind him, a man passes on a tractor, down rows of plants that stand at least three feet high. The spokesman refers to the man on the tractor as Bob, their marketing manager, and says Bob has some ideas to change all that as soon as he finishes "plowing". To anyone who has ever been anywhere near a farm, which is just about everyone west of the Hudson River, it was clear the man was cultivating well established crops, not plowing!

In a commercial for Lipitor, a man standing on a foot bridge talks about the folly of his youth when he skated on "that" ice. The camera pulls back to reveal thin ice on the stream beneath the bridge. That stream appears to be, on average, about six inches deep and littered with impediments to ice skating.

Both commercials are instant turnoffs to folks from Literalville.

Living in Literalville sometimes has disadvantages... if it prevents you from enjoying an otherwise fine painting; or blocks the message intended in a TV commercial. But when a politician espouses a policy that is instantly recognized as pure baloney, it is a gift shared by all my neighbors in Literalville.

Ronald Reagan was right...

government IS the problem - any government - every government! Not only that, governments START all the problems!

Russia is a long, long way from our Southwest desert, but from all I can tell, the Russian people are decent folks. Hard working, struggling against all odds to maintain their families, just as we do. Their government? Well, to be frank, it sucks!

But, all through the Cold War, our government kept trying to convince us that "The Russians" were our mortal enemies. Not their Communist government--- The Russians!

Now it's the Chinese. From the masses who build highways with their bare hands to brilliant professionals who excel at medicine and technology, the Chinese are exceptional people. The Chinese government, unfortunately, also sucks.

But we are often reminded that "The Chinese" are our enemies.

Yes, like Ernie Ford sang in his 1950s hit, Sixteen Tons, "We owe our soul to the company store", that "store" being the Chicoms. Why is this so? Because of the foolish behavior of our real enemy... our own government.

There was a time when people realized the failure of governments as they then existed and decided to form a nation where the people were the government. It worked beautifully, until people who yearned to gain, hold and exercise power worked to reach their goal.

Why old guys sometimes smile.

I grew up a poor kid on a subsistence farm. Sort. of. Actually my Dad also had a paycheck producing job, but much of our food came from the farm.

In those days before health czars demonized fat, lard was a staple in every kitchen. Every home cooked with lard. Lard was cheap and was sold everywhere. But if you lived on a farm and butchered your own hogs, you also made your own lard.

In the butchering process, the meat was trimmed of fat to the extent practical and desirable. When trimming, some bits of lean meat were trimmed along with the fat. In keeping with the old hog butchering rule that you use everything but the squeal, these trimmings were not discarded. They were the raw material for the making of lard.

The process was pretty simple, actually. The pork scraps were heated in a big kettle until all of the fat melted. Fat was then drained off and filtered through a cloth. This clear liquid was poured into tins - lard cans, if you will - and allowed to cool. That, then was lard, ready for frying, etc.

What was left in the kettle were the scraps of lean pork, now largely fat free and cooked to a crisp. We called them "cracklings". Actually we said "cracklin's", and found them to be tasty snacks.

Here in the Southwest, where Spanish language is in common use, the word for "Crackling" is "chicharron". And, mistakenly, they refer to them a "pork skins". As a kid, we first skinned our hogs and that skin had its own use. We sure didn't eat it!

Now, no longer a by-product of making lard, in New Mexico Chicharrons have become a specialty food, and people who "cook" them call themselves Chicharroneros! Imagine!

Saturday morning, they actually had a "chicharron cook-off" a competition to see who made the best chicharrones! And more such cook-offs are planned around the state! I wonder what they did with the lard, which has now become the by-product?

It kinda reminds me of when we drained the whey from the curds of sour milk. We fed those curds to our poultry on the farm. It helped fatten the turkeys for our holiday feasts. We usually saved some curds, added a little fresh cream and a bit of salt and called it cottage cheese. Today, cottage cheese has become another specialty food and is a staple for people not wanting to be fat!

Makes this old guy smile!

China has a new stealth fighter plane!

Wow! How'd they learn to do that? Don't know. But we also learned that the Pentagon computers undergo an attack by some ultra smart Chinese hacker 1,000 times a day. What? Do they have hundreds of computer geniuses (genii, if you prefer) sitting at their keyboards searching for access to Pentagon computers?

Maybe.

Hell, I can solve that problem.... just unplug the Pentagon computers from the internet. End of problem? Maybe not.

This summer I had a pacemaker implanted. A pacemaker is a compact little computer, actually implanted in my upper chest, with a couple of wires threaded down an artery into my heart muscle. Mine is programmed to see that my heart beats at least 60 times per minute. If my heart fails to beat at that rate, the pacemaker sends a little pulse down the wires to my heart muscle and makes it beat.

Last week I went in for my first pacemaker check. While I chatted with one tech about the operation of the thing, another tech placed some kind of sensor over my chest, near where my pacemaker was implanted, and did something on his computer. He then announced that he had changed the threshold (??) and added time to the life of my pacemaker battery. I now have ten years of battery life remaining! (To myself, I wondered if I could bring my digital camera in and have him work some magic on its battery!)

Then, I see a news report that unscrupulous persons can pass you on the street and, with the right equipment, read the data from your credit card - which is inside your purse, or your billfold. Whoa!!!

For all I know, the Chicoms could float a satellite high over Washington and hack the Pentagon computers as they pass by!

Maybe. Maybe not. But who knows?

High in the Sacramento Mountains,

just across the Tularosa Basin from where I live, is Sunspot, a solar observatory. I have no idea how the thing actually works, but it is a big deal. On a visit to Sunspot a few years ago, the scientist in charge pointed out that he has international students, doctoral candidates from around the world who come to New Mexico to study solar flares, sunspots, and whatever else they can see with telescopes trained on the sun.

My understanding is that, from deep underground, a long, narrow tube follows the sun. Telescopes pointing through this long tube offer a view of the sun shielded from extraneous light from all directions. I often think of Sunspot when I hear news from Washington, as it seems that some politicians look at the world through a long, narrow tube, seeing nothing but their image of what lies straight ahead.

They are blind to inevitable "side effects" as the pharmaceutical companies call those "unintended consequences" lurking just off to one side. And, of course, they are completely blind to what is behind them... that something called history.

These politicians persist in the belief that they are the first ever to advance their current idea - despite the fact that the same idea has been tried and has failed in the past.

After decades of government watching, I am no longer surprised by young fools who believe in ideas that old fools scrapped long ago. The failed ideas, they may believe, need only their magic touch to succeed.

Not surprised. Only saddened.

One week ago, today,

there occurred an event in Arizona that became known as "Tragedy in Tucson". There has been a lot of news coverage of the shooting of a member of Congress, a federal judge, a small girl, and numerous others. A lot of coverage.

There has been an outpouring of grief for the victims and their families. Like all Americans, I am likewise grieved.

Now I am wondering if I am the only person saddened by the hurt caused a couple of other people - two scarcely mentioned by news reporters, and not at all by the President in his memorial speech. They are the parents of the shooter.

We may never know if the mother and father of Jared Loughner were good parents or poor parents. We may never know if their actions, knowingly or unknowingly, contributed to that young man's mental state. But can you imagine the crushing pain they must now endure, knowing that their son, the child they nurtured, committed that terrible act on January 8? That their child is universally hated by millions of people? That their child may well be put to death by their fellow Americans?

I have always believed that mentally impaired persons are granted scant sympathy in our culture. We visually identify people with a severe physical impairment, and we cut them a world of slack. Not so with mental illness. We can't see it - so we don't excuse it. We talk of hate and anger. We rarely wonder what sort of demons had come to reside in that poor, afflicted brain.

It will take better brains than mine to resolve this problem. I just hope they can and will.