Rufus was smart enough to know that a person did not cross God and live to enjoy the experience. Though he had never really been a student of the Bible, Rufus had been exposed to quite a bit of singing, preaching, testifying and foot washing. As a boy in rural Alabama during the late ‘50’s and early 60’s Rufus and been dragged to almost every small country church in southern Lawrence, northern Cullman, and the eastern part of Winston County, all around the edges of the Bankhead Forest. Back in those days the mama’s or grand mama’s only hope of keeping the children out of the same old life cycle of drinkin, carousing, and ultimately dying on a Saturday night speeding wild through the forest while chugging a cold PBR was to get them started in church. I guess the forced churching took on some of the kids but by in large the majority of these kids in those days made it to their mid twenties by the grace of God. Rufus’s grandmother had been the one to undertake the moral seasoning of little Rufus Ray Terry. On top of that after Rufus took flight to Mexico and settled down he met and married a local woman raised in the Catholic Church. From both experiences in his religious background Rufus knew better than to take this personal conversation with God lightly. Fearing he was taking much to long to respond Rufus thought he better say something or the consequences would not be to pleasant. “God”, Rufus muttered almost under his breath. “Yes”, replied the voice coming from the still burning cactus. “God, I want to do whatever you want me to”, Rufus started, “but I didn’t even finished School at Speake back in Alabama. The Sheriff back home and the lady the runs the post office here are the only government people I’ve ever talked to”. “I don’t care”, responded God. “If I had wanted somebody else I would have picked them; you’ve got the sense I gave you and that’s enough, look at the people I used throughout the Bible”. “But what if I get started and you get busy on something else and forget about me for a day or two, then what will happen to me”. “Do you remember a couple of Sundays ago when you wife read you the story of Moses leading the children of Israel out of Egypt? Remember when they got pushed up against the sea with the army of Pharaoh bearing down on them? I picked that passage for her to read to you that day for a reason. Remember what I told Moses to tell them when they began to wine and cry about the situation he had gotten them into”. “I think so”, Rufus responded, knowing that he had no memory of what Moses had said. He only remembered that the sea had eventually parted and the Jews had gotten across before it closed back up on the army of chariots and bow hunters riding in them. “What did he tell them”, God pressed Rufus and Rufus had to bluff it, “Moses said ‘wait a minute’ and the sea will open for us”. God almost laughed, not many people actually remember what the exchange had been. “Good try Rufus, but that’s not really close”, God said, “he told them to stand behind him and to watch their Lord (me if you haven’t figured it out) defeat their enemies. He told them they did not have to lift a finger, that I would protect them and as you remember, that is exactly what I did”. “O yeah, I remember now”, Rufus tried to sound convincing but he knew God knew what he remembered and what he didn’t. God continued, “not many people know that even Moses did not know what was going to happen that day on the bank of the Red Sea. Moses was just like you in the beginning, shy and afraid, he had come to know me during the time between my approaching him in the desert like I am approaching you now and the time they backed up to that sea. I directed them with my cloud and pillar of fire to be in that exact place at that exact time. Moses never questioned me about the route from Pharaoh’s city to where they ended up or my intentions when the Egyptians approached. He had learned to simply rely on his faith in me and to trust that I would be there for him and his people.” Rufus thought he was beginning to understand and he was searching his heart to find the kind of faith to would sustain him on the journey he was being asked to undertake. Choosing his words carefully, Rufus started talking to God, “Lord, I know I don’t have much choice in this, but you know about the trouble I’ve got back at home, what if I go back and they arrest me for all that stuff I ran away from. If you get me out of that mess, then how do I get anyone to even listen to me, much less the President of the United States, the leader of the free world. I’m going to be pulling up to the White House in this old pick-up, if it makes it that far, and telling the guards at the gate I want to talk to the most powerful man in the world about something God wanted me to mention to the President. When they quit laughing they are either going to shoot me or they're going to put me away in some insane hospital for the rest of my life”. God couldn’t help but remember this conversation he had with Abraham, Moses, Jonah, Peter, Paul and countless others over the years. “Rufus, I have been through this many times before and I have never failed to be with the person I have chosen for a particular task. You have got to believe me when I tell you I have a plan for what I’m asking and I will walk every step with you on this journey. This task is not going to be easy but it is blessed, you are anointed. I have watched my children, who I love so dearly, and I have decided a major change in their attitude is the only way I can save them from themselves. I will pave the way for you in every way to have them hear your message and give them every opportunity to come back to me”. God continued, “this message must come from the most humble person to be effective. Leave it to me to gain you the access you will need and to soften the hearts of those who will hear and have the power to act”. “I remember in the Bible you sent Moses’ brother to help him and support him, will someone be there to help me do all the things you want me to do”, Rufus was not wanting to appear to be doubting or unbelieving but he was quite sure he could not pull this off by himself. “Yes”, replied God, “I am sending an angel you will meet before you get to Washington that will be with you all the way. You will meet him along the way, he will seek you out and you will know he is the one I have chosen to be with you as you carry out my mission”.
to be con'd
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Saturday, July 4, 2009
MOSES REPLACED by RUFUS 2
installment 2:
Rufus’s mind was racing, he could not remember ever having read or been told anything about things God did since those times back in Bible days. The only thing close to a direct confrontation with God since Bible days was when someone in a remote area of his adopted land, Mexico, saw a shadow on a barn door or burnt spot in a potato chip they thought looked like Jesus or his mother Mary. These things were always good for a few days but were always quickly explained or laughed off and forgotten soon after they were revealed. As for someone actually talking to God and knowing for sure it was him these things hadn’t happen for years. Rufus mind continued to spin a mile a minute. He was sure he had not had a drink in over 30 years but he did smoke one of his boys locoweed cigarettes a couple of times a week and maybe the buildup over a long period of time was effecting him.
Rufus had almost convinced himself this was some hallucination brought on by his age or the funny cigarettes he’d been sneaking around his wife to smoke. Just as he turned to get out the hell out of there the voice spoke again. “Rufus, you are not going crazy, this is not a vision caused by the dope you’ve been smoking and you better not walk away while I’m talking to you”, the Lord sounded pretty serious. “But God, I gotta be the last person in the world you would pick for this job”, Rufus was scared to death by this time. “I don’t make mistakes,” the Lord replied. “Have you ever thought about Moses, what a loser he was when I picked him”, the Lord continued. “He had done nothing but grow up a rich kid, living in a palace and never worked a day in his life. At the first little nudge of his conscious he fly's off the handle, kills a man and has to run off to the far desert and beg someone to let him go further out in the desert and to watch a bunch of sheep. He could not even talk plain and I chose him and look what he did”.
“But God, your talking about the United States of America, they sell toys glorifying war, you want me to tell them to quit what they are proudest of because I said so”, the enormity of the task was more than Rufus could get his head around. “I did not tell you to disarm them”, said God, “I only told you I wanted you to be my voice and to deliver my message, I will do the heavy work”. “In fact that is not even all I want you to tell them”, the Lord continued. Rufus was still awed by the first message God had asked him to deliver, what else could he possibly want him say. “If I do this what else do you want me to say”, Rufus was not convinced about the first part and he really wanted to know about the rest of the mission. “Well, I want you to tell the President I don’t want these weapons sold or given to any other allied country, I want them destroyed, and if he wants to talk about ‘inspect and verify’ you tell him not to worry about that, I will handle that from here. You also tell him I want the bounty of the blessed land I have set aside for America, to be used to feed the world. I'm talking about health care, energy, all of it. I use to not have to worry about these things when it came to Americans but in recent years the people have become more greedy and have hoarded the blessings I have given them for themselves and profit, they have become less attuned to the cries of my children right there in America and around the world”. “Can I sit down over here on that rock for a minute”, Rufus ask, his legs were feeling a bit unsteady. “Sure”, the Lord replied, “I know this is pretty heavy stuff, Rufus but it’s got to get done.” Rufus sat down on the rock, already pretty hot in the morning sun. The heat from the dry desert air and the hot rock he was sitting on reminded Rufus of why he should not be questioning God, but nothing could ease the sheer terror he was feeling in his head and heart. “O. K. God”, Rufus said, “don’t get mad, I know who you are and a lot of the things you have done, I have always thought I needed to know a little more about you and always meant to read your book a lot more, but I didn’t. I don’t even go to church, I never give any money to the church and I don’t even have old clothes to give to poor people, I wear mine out or give them to my boys. Why did you come all the way down here to get me in the middle of summer in a Mexican desert? Please don’t get mad for me asking”. “I don’t get mad”, God replied, “those are good questions and I should answer them for you if I’m going to disrupt your family and life the way this will. I’m picking you Rufus because you are the most unlikely person I could find in the world. I do things in my own time and my own way. There have been dozens, no hundreds, who have figured that another Moses was going to be needed and have applied for the job. Some of them have been great men representing me in the finest traditions and beliefs of the faith my son Jesus taught and lived. Others have been impostors and clowns, trying to assume the role without my blessings and direction. The impostors have used my name to acquire great wealth and power among my believers, making a mockery of everything my son and I represent. I need someone at this time that will be seen and accepted as my earthly messenger. I need someone totally unknown to the world, a person unexpected to do great works or to bear great messages, I need for the world to see it is me and I am indeed still supreme and my work is mine alone and not that of earthly powers. I must be seen once again and forever as the one true God”.
Rufus thought he understood, he was even a little disappointed and hurt because as heard it God was saying he was looking for the most insignificant person in the world and he chose him. As Rufus saw it he did not have much of a choice. He really believed this was a real ‘God’ experience and if he was right he either did what God wanted or he’d go to hell, which at Rufus’s age was not something he wanted to even think about.
(to be con’d)
Rufus’s mind was racing, he could not remember ever having read or been told anything about things God did since those times back in Bible days. The only thing close to a direct confrontation with God since Bible days was when someone in a remote area of his adopted land, Mexico, saw a shadow on a barn door or burnt spot in a potato chip they thought looked like Jesus or his mother Mary. These things were always good for a few days but were always quickly explained or laughed off and forgotten soon after they were revealed. As for someone actually talking to God and knowing for sure it was him these things hadn’t happen for years. Rufus mind continued to spin a mile a minute. He was sure he had not had a drink in over 30 years but he did smoke one of his boys locoweed cigarettes a couple of times a week and maybe the buildup over a long period of time was effecting him.
Rufus had almost convinced himself this was some hallucination brought on by his age or the funny cigarettes he’d been sneaking around his wife to smoke. Just as he turned to get out the hell out of there the voice spoke again. “Rufus, you are not going crazy, this is not a vision caused by the dope you’ve been smoking and you better not walk away while I’m talking to you”, the Lord sounded pretty serious. “But God, I gotta be the last person in the world you would pick for this job”, Rufus was scared to death by this time. “I don’t make mistakes,” the Lord replied. “Have you ever thought about Moses, what a loser he was when I picked him”, the Lord continued. “He had done nothing but grow up a rich kid, living in a palace and never worked a day in his life. At the first little nudge of his conscious he fly's off the handle, kills a man and has to run off to the far desert and beg someone to let him go further out in the desert and to watch a bunch of sheep. He could not even talk plain and I chose him and look what he did”.
“But God, your talking about the United States of America, they sell toys glorifying war, you want me to tell them to quit what they are proudest of because I said so”, the enormity of the task was more than Rufus could get his head around. “I did not tell you to disarm them”, said God, “I only told you I wanted you to be my voice and to deliver my message, I will do the heavy work”. “In fact that is not even all I want you to tell them”, the Lord continued. Rufus was still awed by the first message God had asked him to deliver, what else could he possibly want him say. “If I do this what else do you want me to say”, Rufus was not convinced about the first part and he really wanted to know about the rest of the mission. “Well, I want you to tell the President I don’t want these weapons sold or given to any other allied country, I want them destroyed, and if he wants to talk about ‘inspect and verify’ you tell him not to worry about that, I will handle that from here. You also tell him I want the bounty of the blessed land I have set aside for America, to be used to feed the world. I'm talking about health care, energy, all of it. I use to not have to worry about these things when it came to Americans but in recent years the people have become more greedy and have hoarded the blessings I have given them for themselves and profit, they have become less attuned to the cries of my children right there in America and around the world”. “Can I sit down over here on that rock for a minute”, Rufus ask, his legs were feeling a bit unsteady. “Sure”, the Lord replied, “I know this is pretty heavy stuff, Rufus but it’s got to get done.” Rufus sat down on the rock, already pretty hot in the morning sun. The heat from the dry desert air and the hot rock he was sitting on reminded Rufus of why he should not be questioning God, but nothing could ease the sheer terror he was feeling in his head and heart. “O. K. God”, Rufus said, “don’t get mad, I know who you are and a lot of the things you have done, I have always thought I needed to know a little more about you and always meant to read your book a lot more, but I didn’t. I don’t even go to church, I never give any money to the church and I don’t even have old clothes to give to poor people, I wear mine out or give them to my boys. Why did you come all the way down here to get me in the middle of summer in a Mexican desert? Please don’t get mad for me asking”. “I don’t get mad”, God replied, “those are good questions and I should answer them for you if I’m going to disrupt your family and life the way this will. I’m picking you Rufus because you are the most unlikely person I could find in the world. I do things in my own time and my own way. There have been dozens, no hundreds, who have figured that another Moses was going to be needed and have applied for the job. Some of them have been great men representing me in the finest traditions and beliefs of the faith my son Jesus taught and lived. Others have been impostors and clowns, trying to assume the role without my blessings and direction. The impostors have used my name to acquire great wealth and power among my believers, making a mockery of everything my son and I represent. I need someone at this time that will be seen and accepted as my earthly messenger. I need someone totally unknown to the world, a person unexpected to do great works or to bear great messages, I need for the world to see it is me and I am indeed still supreme and my work is mine alone and not that of earthly powers. I must be seen once again and forever as the one true God”.
Rufus thought he understood, he was even a little disappointed and hurt because as heard it God was saying he was looking for the most insignificant person in the world and he chose him. As Rufus saw it he did not have much of a choice. He really believed this was a real ‘God’ experience and if he was right he either did what God wanted or he’d go to hell, which at Rufus’s age was not something he wanted to even think about.
(to be con’d)
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
MOSES REPLACED BY 'RUFUS'
For a number of reasons I have had a lot of exposure to the book of Exodus this year. It has taken my Bible study group over a year to cover just the first 30 Chapters at our snail like pace. In addition this quarter's international series of Sunday School lessons has started off on what many historians call the big move and it just seems like everywhere I look someone is talking about the Jews escape. The entire story is really interesting, but I can't help but wonder how these events would be viewed and reported today. It is pretty easy to look back thousands of years through history and wonder about the actions and reactions of Moses, Aaron, Pharaoh and the other cast of characters but what would it be like today if the same things happened.
Let's say some guy named Rufus who had been in trouble with the law 40 or 50 years ago, showed up one day with a message for the President of the U.S.A. from God. Rufus had been living in Mexico for all those years hiding from the Sheriff in Lawrence County, Al because of a stack of DUI tickets he amassed years before. While in Mexico Rufus had been working for a Chinese company that made 'handmade authentic Mexican artifacts & souvenirs' that were to be sold to tourist in Cancun. Rufus's life had been simple for all these years, the Lawrence County sheriff had no intention of chasing Rufus and besides that was ten sheriffs ago and the records were long ago lost when the county clerk switched everything to computers. Rufus's folks were just as glad he was gone because of his propensity to drink and just generally act a fool. Rufus had married a Mexican lady and they raised a couple of kids who were about as smart as Rufus and were now working with him making treasures for the tourist.
One day on the way to work Rufus attention was drawn to a cactus near the small dirt road he traveled each day. Rufus pulled his '73 Ford F-100 over and walked to the cactus that seemed to be on fire but was not burning up as one would expect. As Rufus approached, constantly looking over his shoulder for someone to approach the cactus with him, he was shocked by the same message Moses had heard so long ago. "Take your shoes off Rufus, you are on my ground" blag, blag, etc and etc. Rufus remembered he had not had a drink in years because the condition he drank himself into earlier in his life. He knew something of the experience Moses encountered so long ago from the Bible readings his Mexican wife made him endure every Sunday morning in lieu of attending the local Catholic church. In what would have come as a total shock to anyone in Alabama that ever knew Rufus, it did not take long for Rufus to get the message the voice in the cactus was giving him and for the shoes to come off, dirty socks and all.
"You know who I am", the voice first said, "yes, I think so", said Rufus. "Then you know I've got something for you to do", the voice continued. "Aw God, I can't do anything big, I'm just now learning to speak Mexican and I've been here forty years", Rufus knew from the book it was not going to do any good to argue with God. "You don't have to speak Mexican for this", God said, "I'm gonna need you to speak English". "I don't speak that too good either", was all Rufus could say. Rufus knew it was not going to do any good fight'en God on this. "I'm not stupid, what do you want me to do"? Rufus said weakly. "Here's the deal", the Lord said, "I want you to go back to the United States and tell the President I want him to dismantle the whole military of the United States, I want him to destroy all the weapons, nuclear included, and send all the soldiers home, immediately". "You can't be serious", Rufus said after regaining some degree of presence and preparing to duck. "I know you are God, and you know what your doing, but this ain't Egypt and I will not be talking to some Pharaoh that inherited the job from his old man", Rufus did not want to challenge God but he was not sure God's mind was everything it used to be.
(to be cont'd)
Let's say some guy named Rufus who had been in trouble with the law 40 or 50 years ago, showed up one day with a message for the President of the U.S.A. from God. Rufus had been living in Mexico for all those years hiding from the Sheriff in Lawrence County, Al because of a stack of DUI tickets he amassed years before. While in Mexico Rufus had been working for a Chinese company that made 'handmade authentic Mexican artifacts & souvenirs' that were to be sold to tourist in Cancun. Rufus's life had been simple for all these years, the Lawrence County sheriff had no intention of chasing Rufus and besides that was ten sheriffs ago and the records were long ago lost when the county clerk switched everything to computers. Rufus's folks were just as glad he was gone because of his propensity to drink and just generally act a fool. Rufus had married a Mexican lady and they raised a couple of kids who were about as smart as Rufus and were now working with him making treasures for the tourist.
One day on the way to work Rufus attention was drawn to a cactus near the small dirt road he traveled each day. Rufus pulled his '73 Ford F-100 over and walked to the cactus that seemed to be on fire but was not burning up as one would expect. As Rufus approached, constantly looking over his shoulder for someone to approach the cactus with him, he was shocked by the same message Moses had heard so long ago. "Take your shoes off Rufus, you are on my ground" blag, blag, etc and etc. Rufus remembered he had not had a drink in years because the condition he drank himself into earlier in his life. He knew something of the experience Moses encountered so long ago from the Bible readings his Mexican wife made him endure every Sunday morning in lieu of attending the local Catholic church. In what would have come as a total shock to anyone in Alabama that ever knew Rufus, it did not take long for Rufus to get the message the voice in the cactus was giving him and for the shoes to come off, dirty socks and all.
"You know who I am", the voice first said, "yes, I think so", said Rufus. "Then you know I've got something for you to do", the voice continued. "Aw God, I can't do anything big, I'm just now learning to speak Mexican and I've been here forty years", Rufus knew from the book it was not going to do any good to argue with God. "You don't have to speak Mexican for this", God said, "I'm gonna need you to speak English". "I don't speak that too good either", was all Rufus could say. Rufus knew it was not going to do any good fight'en God on this. "I'm not stupid, what do you want me to do"? Rufus said weakly. "Here's the deal", the Lord said, "I want you to go back to the United States and tell the President I want him to dismantle the whole military of the United States, I want him to destroy all the weapons, nuclear included, and send all the soldiers home, immediately". "You can't be serious", Rufus said after regaining some degree of presence and preparing to duck. "I know you are God, and you know what your doing, but this ain't Egypt and I will not be talking to some Pharaoh that inherited the job from his old man", Rufus did not want to challenge God but he was not sure God's mind was everything it used to be.
(to be cont'd)
Monday, March 23, 2009
AIG OUTRAGE
I am part of the populist outrage over the bonuses paid to the AIG people and I think I have figured out why we can't get a handle on the financial problems facing our country. Our government is suffering from the effects of 200 years of inbreeding our political leaders. Most of us here in the South know that you can't continue to inbreed any line of stock and not have troubles. What we've done in Washington is to inbreed our political leaders for so long that no one in government today knows how to work with companies that are broke. All of our leaders both in the Executive Branch and Congress are rich and have been for generations. Now Obama may be different, being black and poor in Kansas probably taught him a little about working from behind, though he's never had to tell a group of employees they no longer had a job, or explain to a bank they are not going to be repaid on a loan. You see good people who go broke know something about the real way things work in hard times. For example, take the AIG thing everyone is mad about now, the bonuses. A person whose has ridden a losing company down would be much better suited to deal with AIG's problems than Timothy Geithner, former Chairman of the New York Federal Reserve. A man with experience in broke companies would have known how to deal with all those contracts AIG wrote, insuring the trillions of dollars of mortgage back securities. The first thing he would have done would be to call the insured customers in and tell them how AIG's lawyers were putting the finishing touches on a bankruptcy petition in the next room and if they wanted anything they had better take the $.30 on the $1.00 you were fortunate enough to be offering right now or they would not get anything. Bill Glasscock and old trailer man would have settled everything AIG owed around the world for little more that $.50 on the dollar. Not the government, they are paying everybody 100%, regardless of what they knew they were asking AIG to insure.
The next thing would have been to call a staff meeting in every office the company had and use one of those new teleconferencing machines to put on a dog and pony show for all those rich employees waiting to be paid the $170,000,000.00 bonuses. On stage with the AIG officers and directors you would have the Senior Partner of the biggest bankruptcy law firm in the world. The CEO would have introduced him to all the employees, had him explain how he needed to get this done quickly since the Bankruptcy Court Clerk closed at 5:00 p.m. and he needed to get there soon if the employees did not agree to forgo their bonuses this year. He would assure everyone gathered they should agree to forgo the bonus this year in order for them to avoid the long arm of the Trustee in Bankruptcy taking the money they had already received from last year. He would promise them a note from the company for this years money to be paid at such time as the company had sufficient cash in retained earnings to pay the amount they were supposed to get this year without any additional interest. The employees would have started a stampede to sign up for the deferred money just to have the peace of mine that comes from keeping the money from last year they had already spent.
Our problem is people who have never been broke don't think like everyday people. These people charged with getting us out of this mess think they have got to make everybody 100% whole. The government does need to pay 100% of everything it owes, that is key to our continued position in a global economy. AIG and the other private companies are different. The people they owe are due to take a haircut just like the poor Joe's out of work because of the recession. AIG doesn't have the money. Why are AIG's creditors any more entitled to full payment than Sam's Hardware creditors that lost money when Sam's went belly up in the heartland? Bring Lee Iacocca out of retirement, Bill Glasscock is dead.
Give me a smart bankruptcy trustee like Phil Geddes and I could save the government enough to pay for at least one more war and give everybody a mule and forty acres
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Conspiricy Against Catfish
As anyone who regularly reads this space knows, not much gets by the trained eye of this writer. I have pieced together what I believe to be a new threat on our nation by foreign interest, probably the Taliban. Like most good investigative reporters I did not come to this conclusion from one source and one source only. The first hint was not even recognized by this trained eye the first time I heard about the occurrence that now fits so well into the conspiracy. A few weeks ago on a normal late winter, early spring Saturday night a truck crashed into the kitchen area of Libby’s Restaurant out on Highway 67 in Priceville. Until today that crash just seemed like a simple misfortune that caused my friend Libby to lose several weeks of business and 40 or 50 of my friends to lose a breakfast and early morning coffee shop. Libby’s is an institution in this area, but having a truck run through the kitchen on Saturday night was just something that might happen in Priceville, and did not raise too many red flags.
Toward the end of last week another seemingly innocent clue was imbedded deep in the Decatur Daily and probably did not draw much attention from untrained readers. The article to most readers would seem harmless and would be considered by most to be filler since there is usually not much to report around here. To a trained eye like your writer’s it was much more. The article reported catfish farmers in Mississippi and Alabama were being recruited to transform their catfish farms from raising catfish to growing algae. Algae, the same slimy green gook that hangs to a fishing line and clogs boat motors. Now the article reported how some company from up North was going to use this slime to make a new bio-fuel to use in our cars and trucks. Now anybody with half a brain should see that this was a scheme, either the Yankees were trying to destroy our economy (i.e. reconstruction) or there was some greater plan in play that reeked of Bin Laden or his group. Convince us to wipe out a prime food source and substitute thousands of acres of slime; this thinking could only come from our most deadly enemies.
The last piece of the puzzle came this morning while getting a haircut from my faithful and smart barber Vic. Now Vic and I don’t see eye to eye on many things political, but I do put a great deal of stock in his ability to size up a problem. Vic was on a rage about the Omnibus Spending Bill passed last night by the Congress. Now since I am a Democrat and Vic is just to the right of John Birch we don’t agree on many thing but when he mentioned the Spending Bill contained some provision to protect us from the genocide of catfish the lights went off in my head. These dogs are beginning the implementation of their plan to destroy the catfish industry in this country. The government knows about it and is trying to fund some agency to stop them but has not told us about what is going on.
I figure there are sleeper cells all across the South putting their plans into motion. These people have been living among us for years, just waiting for this day. Quietly they are renting mini-vans to violently crash into catfish joints across Alabama, Mississippi and Arkansas. With any planning at all they know that if they strike at the heart of the industry in these states the other states will quickly capitulate. Tennessee, Florida and the Carolina’s have absorbed too many Yankees over the years and are not as dependent on catfish to supplement bar-b-q joints income and would not be so vulnerable to the loss of revenue generated by catfish. Yankees have never been able to overcome the thought of catfish swimming around the sewer lines that feed into their water supplies. They have never minded drinking the water these sewers feed into but heaven forbid eating the fish. As a result they have never really developed the taste for the whiskered fish we southerners have.
Taking away our catfish here in the south would be like cutting Samson’s hair. As a people our culture thrives when we consistently fill every catfish joint within 20 miles of our homes on Friday and Saturday nights just to eat catfish fillets or whole fish, cole slaw and a slab of onion. Thousands would be forced out of work in the joints and at the French fry and tartar sauce factories that have sprung up all across our land. Ice tea consumption would be cut and the manufacturers of the little pink and blue and yellow sweeteners would have no choice but to lay off thousands of workers.
These people know what they are doing. You read it here first-----‘it’s the little things that will get us”.
Toward the end of last week another seemingly innocent clue was imbedded deep in the Decatur Daily and probably did not draw much attention from untrained readers. The article to most readers would seem harmless and would be considered by most to be filler since there is usually not much to report around here. To a trained eye like your writer’s it was much more. The article reported catfish farmers in Mississippi and Alabama were being recruited to transform their catfish farms from raising catfish to growing algae. Algae, the same slimy green gook that hangs to a fishing line and clogs boat motors. Now the article reported how some company from up North was going to use this slime to make a new bio-fuel to use in our cars and trucks. Now anybody with half a brain should see that this was a scheme, either the Yankees were trying to destroy our economy (i.e. reconstruction) or there was some greater plan in play that reeked of Bin Laden or his group. Convince us to wipe out a prime food source and substitute thousands of acres of slime; this thinking could only come from our most deadly enemies.
The last piece of the puzzle came this morning while getting a haircut from my faithful and smart barber Vic. Now Vic and I don’t see eye to eye on many things political, but I do put a great deal of stock in his ability to size up a problem. Vic was on a rage about the Omnibus Spending Bill passed last night by the Congress. Now since I am a Democrat and Vic is just to the right of John Birch we don’t agree on many thing but when he mentioned the Spending Bill contained some provision to protect us from the genocide of catfish the lights went off in my head. These dogs are beginning the implementation of their plan to destroy the catfish industry in this country. The government knows about it and is trying to fund some agency to stop them but has not told us about what is going on.
I figure there are sleeper cells all across the South putting their plans into motion. These people have been living among us for years, just waiting for this day. Quietly they are renting mini-vans to violently crash into catfish joints across Alabama, Mississippi and Arkansas. With any planning at all they know that if they strike at the heart of the industry in these states the other states will quickly capitulate. Tennessee, Florida and the Carolina’s have absorbed too many Yankees over the years and are not as dependent on catfish to supplement bar-b-q joints income and would not be so vulnerable to the loss of revenue generated by catfish. Yankees have never been able to overcome the thought of catfish swimming around the sewer lines that feed into their water supplies. They have never minded drinking the water these sewers feed into but heaven forbid eating the fish. As a result they have never really developed the taste for the whiskered fish we southerners have.
Taking away our catfish here in the south would be like cutting Samson’s hair. As a people our culture thrives when we consistently fill every catfish joint within 20 miles of our homes on Friday and Saturday nights just to eat catfish fillets or whole fish, cole slaw and a slab of onion. Thousands would be forced out of work in the joints and at the French fry and tartar sauce factories that have sprung up all across our land. Ice tea consumption would be cut and the manufacturers of the little pink and blue and yellow sweeteners would have no choice but to lay off thousands of workers.
These people know what they are doing. You read it here first-----‘it’s the little things that will get us”.
Monday, March 2, 2009
JINDAL NOT READY FOR PRIMETIME
I don’t know much about this Gov. Bobby Jindal from down in Louisiana but he has got a lot to learn about politics. First off he must realize he cannot win again because he looks like one of the stars from ‘Slumdog Millionaire’ and gets to reply to the President’s speech. From looking at him he will need to get his birth certificate checked. It doesn’t bother me, heck I am a Democrat and I voted for Obama but Jindal is a Republican and they get pretty touchy about these things. If he wants to run for President in the next election I would want him let Sen. Richard Shelby check his birth certificate. He just don’t look American to me. Sen. Shelby is the one who checks all this stuff about birth certificates and such, judging from comments about his not having checked President Obama’s. Louisiana does not require that you even be a citizen of the United States to be governor, it has something to do with the Napoleonic Code they continue to operate under.
Another thing he will need to learn is to lie better. This week in his speech he made from under that staircase in the governor’s mansion he told about some conversation he overheard during the Katrina mess. Supposedly some Sheriff was on the phone when little Bobby got to the rescue station and was talking on the phone with one of the geniuses from Emergency Management Agency. This Sheriff was telling the EMA to let the local BASS club launch their boats to start picking citizens off their roofs and the EMA was insisting on the boat owners showing proof of insurance before they took off. According to Jindal the Sheriff told them they were going to have to pry the oars and steering wheels of these boats out of the operators cold dead hands to stop them. When the Sheriff looked up and saw little Bobby standing there he added they would also have to pry Bobby’s hands off the oars to. Turns out none of that really happened but Jindal thought it made a good story and he had no intention of letting a few facts get in the way. I don’t blame him at all. Now here is where he has trouble being a politician. You have got to make it bigger, remember George W. talking about his valiant service during Viet Nam in the Air Guard. The truth about him playing ‘tonk’ at the officers club at Maxwell Air Force base during the 60 days he was on active duty was never heard. Hell, at least 70% of everyone that voted for Reagan believed he really played for Notre Dame went by the nickname ‘Gipper’. And how many of us will ever forget Al Gore’s claim to have invented the Internet. I‘ve got relatives now that believe Al invented it and the Morse Code.
Now if it was me or anyone else from Winston Co. and we had gotten in front of some T.V. cameras and were given the chance to boost our image, the story would have been a little different. To start, with the image of all that water still fresh in the minds of those listening, I would have had to be soaking wet and near death freezing. Something like “I have been in the water since first light, swimming from house to house to simply assure the people clinging to live by hanging onto their chimneys help was on the way”. Notice how much more you are drawn into the story and have already begun to feel sorry for me. Next I would have gotten some mileage out of the shock I suffered and the steps I took when I heard the Sheriff pleading for help. My story would have continued, “the minute I heard the Sheriff arguing with lazy no good bureaucrats on the other end of that line I jerked the phone from his hands and through teeth almost chattering out of my mouth from cold, I screamed to the useless pantywaist on the other end of the line that I was Bobby Jindal and unless he wanted to see me in his face in ten seconds he better launch the boats”. Then the story would have gotten even better. I would have continued, now that I was on a roll, explaining how with my aides and family begging me to dry off and to at least get some clean and dry clothes I said, “leave me alone, those are my people out there clinging to life. If I don’t save them they won’t be saved. They elected me and I won’t let them down”. With that I would have told how I jumped in the first boat to leave the dock and how we worked for 42 straight hours pulling my people to safety. Now that’s a story a boy like Jindal could make some hay with.
Was he in ‘Slumdog’ or not?
Another thing he will need to learn is to lie better. This week in his speech he made from under that staircase in the governor’s mansion he told about some conversation he overheard during the Katrina mess. Supposedly some Sheriff was on the phone when little Bobby got to the rescue station and was talking on the phone with one of the geniuses from Emergency Management Agency. This Sheriff was telling the EMA to let the local BASS club launch their boats to start picking citizens off their roofs and the EMA was insisting on the boat owners showing proof of insurance before they took off. According to Jindal the Sheriff told them they were going to have to pry the oars and steering wheels of these boats out of the operators cold dead hands to stop them. When the Sheriff looked up and saw little Bobby standing there he added they would also have to pry Bobby’s hands off the oars to. Turns out none of that really happened but Jindal thought it made a good story and he had no intention of letting a few facts get in the way. I don’t blame him at all. Now here is where he has trouble being a politician. You have got to make it bigger, remember George W. talking about his valiant service during Viet Nam in the Air Guard. The truth about him playing ‘tonk’ at the officers club at Maxwell Air Force base during the 60 days he was on active duty was never heard. Hell, at least 70% of everyone that voted for Reagan believed he really played for Notre Dame went by the nickname ‘Gipper’. And how many of us will ever forget Al Gore’s claim to have invented the Internet. I‘ve got relatives now that believe Al invented it and the Morse Code.
Now if it was me or anyone else from Winston Co. and we had gotten in front of some T.V. cameras and were given the chance to boost our image, the story would have been a little different. To start, with the image of all that water still fresh in the minds of those listening, I would have had to be soaking wet and near death freezing. Something like “I have been in the water since first light, swimming from house to house to simply assure the people clinging to live by hanging onto their chimneys help was on the way”. Notice how much more you are drawn into the story and have already begun to feel sorry for me. Next I would have gotten some mileage out of the shock I suffered and the steps I took when I heard the Sheriff pleading for help. My story would have continued, “the minute I heard the Sheriff arguing with lazy no good bureaucrats on the other end of that line I jerked the phone from his hands and through teeth almost chattering out of my mouth from cold, I screamed to the useless pantywaist on the other end of the line that I was Bobby Jindal and unless he wanted to see me in his face in ten seconds he better launch the boats”. Then the story would have gotten even better. I would have continued, now that I was on a roll, explaining how with my aides and family begging me to dry off and to at least get some clean and dry clothes I said, “leave me alone, those are my people out there clinging to life. If I don’t save them they won’t be saved. They elected me and I won’t let them down”. With that I would have told how I jumped in the first boat to leave the dock and how we worked for 42 straight hours pulling my people to safety. Now that’s a story a boy like Jindal could make some hay with.
Was he in ‘Slumdog’ or not?
Friday, February 27, 2009
Cheat'en & Family Pride
I have not posted for a few days due to the increasing pressure the Obama administration keeps putting on me to come up with something to end these wars and to get the economy straightened out. I finally told the guy that keeps calling from the White House to back off and give me some time to think. During this ‘down time’ from the pressures of the world I went to an All-Star 8 and under basketball tournament that my super gifted and good looking grandson Jackson was participating in. Now Jackson played in a league in Huntsville that actually required proof of age by a birth certificate before playing. His little group of 8 and under buddies played other kids that were 8 and under throughout the winter and Jackson’s group did quite well. They won all of their league games and lost a couple to teams from other leagues in exhibition games early on. At the end of the regular season Jackson and six other kids that looked 8 and under were chosen to an All Star team that would play in a District Tournament in Hartselle. Well we went to the tournament last night and believe me there has not been a beat’in put on one team by another since Samson took the jaw bone of an ass to all those Philistines a long time ago.
I am not about to accuse the team from Meridianville of using kids that were 8 and above, they may just grow big in the north end of Madison County, but I do know that we did not have one kid that shaved or drove a car to the game in Hartselle. The final score was 30 something to 6 and most of our points came on free throws. Half way through the fourth quarter the coach from Meridianville took his first team out and three of them left for work. Our little band of seven fought to the end. These kids were determined even if out manned. My Jackson is a pretty good size 8 year old and built exactly like his other grandfather, Billy Neighbors, who happen to win both the Jacobs and Outland Trophies in his All American days at the University of Alabama under Coach Bryant. In most circles Jackson is considered pretty big for his age. Last night Jackson looked like the little brother to Meridianville’s point guard.
I guess we are lucky that kids don’t take stuff as seriously as we adults. Our kids played their hearts out and never quit. Even Jackson who does not take losing at anything lightly was still disappointed but over it by the time he got back to Huntsville. Only us parents and grandparents are still carrying this injustice into today and writing about it as a form of release. My son, Bubba, even tried to explain to me that the smaller towns like Meridianville do not have enough kids to spread them out like Huntsville and that since they only fielded one team made up of the best in the area while Huntsville was bla-bla-bla and bla. Makes no difference to me. When a kid playing in an 8 and under tournament is hairy legged and drives I don’t like it one bit. Years ago in Haleyville we would have locked them in their dressing room or cut the tires on their bus if something like this happened. Spending the night in a dressing room, or trying to find someone in Haleyville to change a tire after 7:00 pm after a ballgame would make you think twice about cheating next time. I guess in a town like Hartselle where they have all night service stations and even the kids have a cell phone those remedies would not work, but we would have figured out something to break them dogs from sucking eggs.
On a much lighter note I have got to mention the smarter side of my family. I had an aunt, Martha Whitt Hoover, who went off to Kentucky and raised a family of really smart people. Her children, which make them my cousins, are all pretty special and the rest of use them on our resumes and any other time we need to shore up our creditability. Her oldest, Greg, is a graduate of West Point and retired after a career in the Army and teaches in Franklin, Tenn. The service warped him to some extent making him a dye-hard, orange blazer wearing Tennessee fan but actually a pretty good sort of fellow. Her third, Meg is a beautiful and talented mother and businesswoman that ended up in San Antonio, Texas with three boys (real boys). The second son is a doctor in Nashville.
Now this entire family is and will be the subject of several of these offerings in the future but I have got to mention something about Brad, the doctor today. Brad was just chosen Dr. of the Year, by his peers and hospital staff in Nashville. Now my uncle Billy made it to the top of Alabama Power Co. and my uncle James was the mayor of Haleyville when 911 was birthed and we claim he invented it, and his son-in-law Ken is now the mayor of Haleyville, but in my opinion Dr. of the Year in a town like Nashville is about as high and any of us descendants W.W. and Maggie ever got. Way to go Brad, you da’ man!
I am not about to accuse the team from Meridianville of using kids that were 8 and above, they may just grow big in the north end of Madison County, but I do know that we did not have one kid that shaved or drove a car to the game in Hartselle. The final score was 30 something to 6 and most of our points came on free throws. Half way through the fourth quarter the coach from Meridianville took his first team out and three of them left for work. Our little band of seven fought to the end. These kids were determined even if out manned. My Jackson is a pretty good size 8 year old and built exactly like his other grandfather, Billy Neighbors, who happen to win both the Jacobs and Outland Trophies in his All American days at the University of Alabama under Coach Bryant. In most circles Jackson is considered pretty big for his age. Last night Jackson looked like the little brother to Meridianville’s point guard.
I guess we are lucky that kids don’t take stuff as seriously as we adults. Our kids played their hearts out and never quit. Even Jackson who does not take losing at anything lightly was still disappointed but over it by the time he got back to Huntsville. Only us parents and grandparents are still carrying this injustice into today and writing about it as a form of release. My son, Bubba, even tried to explain to me that the smaller towns like Meridianville do not have enough kids to spread them out like Huntsville and that since they only fielded one team made up of the best in the area while Huntsville was bla-bla-bla and bla. Makes no difference to me. When a kid playing in an 8 and under tournament is hairy legged and drives I don’t like it one bit. Years ago in Haleyville we would have locked them in their dressing room or cut the tires on their bus if something like this happened. Spending the night in a dressing room, or trying to find someone in Haleyville to change a tire after 7:00 pm after a ballgame would make you think twice about cheating next time. I guess in a town like Hartselle where they have all night service stations and even the kids have a cell phone those remedies would not work, but we would have figured out something to break them dogs from sucking eggs.
On a much lighter note I have got to mention the smarter side of my family. I had an aunt, Martha Whitt Hoover, who went off to Kentucky and raised a family of really smart people. Her children, which make them my cousins, are all pretty special and the rest of use them on our resumes and any other time we need to shore up our creditability. Her oldest, Greg, is a graduate of West Point and retired after a career in the Army and teaches in Franklin, Tenn. The service warped him to some extent making him a dye-hard, orange blazer wearing Tennessee fan but actually a pretty good sort of fellow. Her third, Meg is a beautiful and talented mother and businesswoman that ended up in San Antonio, Texas with three boys (real boys). The second son is a doctor in Nashville.
Now this entire family is and will be the subject of several of these offerings in the future but I have got to mention something about Brad, the doctor today. Brad was just chosen Dr. of the Year, by his peers and hospital staff in Nashville. Now my uncle Billy made it to the top of Alabama Power Co. and my uncle James was the mayor of Haleyville when 911 was birthed and we claim he invented it, and his son-in-law Ken is now the mayor of Haleyville, but in my opinion Dr. of the Year in a town like Nashville is about as high and any of us descendants W.W. and Maggie ever got. Way to go Brad, you da’ man!
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