Remember the Oysterman and Shut your Mouth

I was in line in a Dollar General in Carrabelle, and ahead of me was a big fella, long hair, sunburned skin and lined before his time. A rough looking character with big arms and strong hands. He had some food items and was trying to get his credit card to work. The cashier finally offered to help him, and the line got longer by 2. She swiped it again, asked him something, fiddled with something, and the sale when through. As she was finishing up he turned to me and showed me the card: an EBT card. Food stamps. He said, paraphrased, “I was an oysterman and always made a living. Then the bay quit producing oysters and the government stepped in to help. I never wanted welfare, but I have to feed my family. All I want is honest work.”That last word was said with a quiet sob, and he had tears in his eyes.

I said something like hang in there friend. We have all been through bad times one way or another and we understand. Not the right thing to say probably, but that’s what came out. I wanted to give him a hug but didn’t.

Until Franklin county gets some economic development, and until and if, a really big if, the oyster industry comes back, this man and many others are going to be needing all of our help. I willingly pay taxes to support people like him and his family.

The oystermen and fishermen didn’t cause the problem. Greedy people in Georgia and Alabama did. Hogged the water the bay needs to stay alive.

The next time you see or hear someone going off on “welfare” remember the oysterman. And the millions like him. Pay your share and shut your mouth and just be glad you have work. Or income or something.

And if you ever got some help from the treacherous and evil government, thank whoever you thank that they were there for you.

Oyster:https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/b/b0/Crassostrea_gigas_p1040848.jpg/600px-Crassostrea_gigas_p1040848.jpg

Conservatives Lie Again: No Surprise There.

Yep, Conservative Men and Women Fooled Again by the RIGHT.

Now we know that the secret video showing Planned Parenthood people blithely discussing disposal of aborted fetal tissue was an edited fraud. And the photos of "aborted fetuses" were actually photos of miscarried babies unrelated to either abortion or Planned Parenthood. The people that put out the video ADMITTED IT WAS A FRAUD.
In other words: LIES.
Now come on Woody. Why would minions of right-wing conservative politicians and Christians make up stuff? Well, because they need an ISSUE, dummy. They need a "Chicken Little" issue to make the ignorant conservative base run around crying "the sky is falling - again." Did I say "again"? Yep. Remember how gay marriage was going to destroy straight marriage? (Never mind how many divorces there are, how many battered women there are, how many unmarried mothers there are.) Well, it didn't, and now a-days people don't much get excited about gay people getting married. Remember the "Obama is going to take your guns"? He didn't. Never was going to. But the NRA-sponsored issue machine whipped up the base again.
And now, since it is obvious that Obama isn't going to take your dammed guns or that gay marriage is going to ruin your perfect straight marriage, the Right Wingers need a new issue to whip up the base into running around in circles crying "The Sky is Falling"!!!
Enter the Planned Parenthood fiasco. Sure enough, the anti-abortion people fell on it with slobbering fangs, pushed it down everybody's throats and screamed "SEE!!! THEY KILL BABIES FOR PARTS!!!"
And you run around like morons.
You probably wont care that Planned Parenthood is the MAJOR supplier of women's health benefits for poor women: breast cancer screening, reproductive system screening for all kinds of issues, birth control counseling and supply (you know, so poor women wont need abortions?).
Very little of the PP activity is abortion related.
But the RIGHT must have an ISSUE. So they cob up another lie.
Boy, you conservatives are sure stupid sometimes. Some "Special Kind of Stupid".
Image: https://polination.files.wordpress.com/2013/02/dog-not-saying-youre-stupid.jpg?w=500&h=312

Ever See a Photo of a Shot Dead American Child?

Ok, here it comes. Right between the eyes. Look at the photos below:

 These are dead foreign children killed in war-related action. Their pictures were ALL OVER the foreign press. Not ours though.

Here are photos of dead AMERICAN CHILDREN:

They look dead to you? No? Thats because our media doesn't show the real results of shooting a child. Why not? You think that JUST MAYBE you would be more outraged if you saw the little guy on the left or the cute little girl on the right blown up by an bullet? You think you MIGHT get a little pissed off at the MORONS who want total access to guns and no accountability in their use and storage?
You are being MANAGED by the National Rifle Association and Billionaires in the Arms Industry.
But I guess you like it, 'cause you never raise a finger in protest. Until your kid gets killed. Then it it way too late. Sorry.

Image: http://www.juliagorin.com/images/croatia/Borovo7.jpg
Image: https://socioecohistory.files.wordpress.com/2009/11/shotgazanchild.jpg
Image:https://i.ytimg.com/vi/8tCFcDurVvM/hqdefault.jpg
Image:https://encrypted-tbn3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcQTLkaskH-gXPlPql82BofzziG8wW5ZtI-bsfFVWD1k7YCciF-X
Image:https://shootfromthelefthip.files.wordpress.com/2013/06/child-shot-channel-18.jpg?w=634

Pregnant in the Summer and Barefoot in the Winter

Women. You don’t get it do you?

No, some of you don’t get it at all. You are being played for suckers by the Conservative Right. The fabricated “abortion” issue is a brilliant scam to distract attention from the real agenda of the Conservative Right: put women back in the home, out of the workplace and under the strict control of men. Pregnant in the Summer and barefoot in the Winter. Yes Virginia, there is a war on women being waged. A war to turn back the clock on women’s rights all the way from equal pay (Republicans voted against) and voting rights (Republicans tried to prevent) to health services such as pap tests and breast exam (Republicans voted to eliminate funding) to reproductive health services such as HIV testing and other VDs and birth control (Republicans voted against), and yes, abortion services (Republicans voted against). And they voted against the ACA which has provided health insurance for millions of women and children, in addition to men.

This is a pretty poor voting record when it comes to Women’s Issues. They also voted against any legislation that would benefit minorities.

Dead Children in Afganistan

But, they voted heavily to support the NRA agenda which is apparently to kill as many Americans as Possible. So I guess we need an act called the NRA CAP act (as in “Cap his Ass).

That they would go for.

Image: https://shootfromthelefthip.files.wordpress.com/2013/06/child-shot-channel-18.jpg?w=634

Image: http://www.stopwar.org.uk/images/news/afghan_children_killed_by_US_460.jpg

Forgive? Not me. Not yet.

Proud Southern Boy.

I was sitting in the kitchen, coffee in hand, listening to the news about Charleston, Kabul, and other hot spots in the world. Of particular interest is the outpouring of Forgiveness for the murdering little bastard Roof. Coward too. Apparently ran out of bullets so his attempt to shoot himself failed. Good. Because I don’t forgive him. And a lot of people won’t forgive him. But back to forgiveness.

I am amazed that the people closest to the killings are pouring out forgiveness. And the community. And people all over. I love that people have this capacity to forgive. I wish they would forgive gay people for falling in love, or mentally handicapped people for being different, or black people for being black.

My problem is easy to see isn’t it? Anyone with the deep and abiding capacity to forgive a murdering little shit should also be on the vanguard of all the social actions to right the wrongs of society and “forgive” if needed. Now don’t come back on me with “You don’t have to forgive someone for something genetic” or whatever. I know that. I am talking about the philosophy of people blaming innocent carriers of difference and discriminating on that basis. For example: you are gay? No marriage in My Church. You are black? No business in the pool. You are Hispanic? No business in this country.

No, people are mostly hypocritical and cherry pick what, who and why they will confer forgiveness. WWJD?  Forgive with unconditional love. Would that all of you could do the same. I certainly cannot. But at least I know what I should be doing. Forgive the murdering little shit. Gulp. Nope. Not yet.

Image: http://i.dailymail.co.uk/i/pix/2015/06/20/17/29CF022100000578-3132670-image-m-57_1434817272168.jpg

Thanks EB for the Memories.

When I started my teaching career in the early 1980s at what is now Thomas University, I had a good number of adult returning students, mostly women. Most of my thousands of students are fondly remembered as groups, and a few are remembered as individuals. Such was a student I will call EB. EB was a returning adult woman, married with children and seeking a life change. She wanted to be a counselor of some kind, undefined at that early stage, but she had a clear goal. She did indeed become a counselor. Because she was older than most of the other students and I am rather a social person, we often talked after class about this and that. I learned about her children in broad terms, and in fact her daughter was a student of mine much later.

Why did EB stand out? Hard to say exactly, but two things made her indelible to me. One was a conversation we had one day after class, as we were talking about spiritual things. She was comfortable enough with me to ask if I believed in paranormal events, and I said not really, but had had a few experiences that I couldn't explain with rational science. I described my one and only Out of Body Experience (not on drugs or anything else) and we talked about it. She then shared a vision she had and the outcome. She told me she had “seen” her pantry floor covered with broken jars of home canned green beans. She had no broken jars in her pantry. Sometime later, she gave some jars of beans to a friend who then had an accident on the highway and broken jars of green beans were all over the trunk of the car. She was convinced that she had “seen” this ahead of time, but didn’t anticipate the event. This bothered her as I recall.

The other thing about EB was her voice. At times when she spoke I heard two voices, not one. Very unusual and only from her. This was not a few times, but many. I even went to an ear specialist to get a checkup and was put through a number of tests including a brain scan, and all was normal. It was her voice I was hearing, not some pathology of mine. I have no idea what that was all about, but clearly I have never forgotten it.

So where does all this lead? A few days ago I heard from her daughter that she is in hospice for untreatable cancer, and is close to her end. I have not seen here for many years, but her personality and quirkiness have left a deep impression on me. Her passing will be a sad thing for the family she leaves behind, but if she was right about paranormal things, she will be around in one way or another for a very long time. I would welcome a visit myself.

Image: http://noelanirodriguez.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/04/Crystal_Ball___Stock_by_Sassy_Stock-300x298.jpg

I Didn’t Choose It

She looks like my dryad

The world I live in. Not the world at large, but the one I personally inhabit. This world is one where everything has a name or spirit or is deserving of respect. I didn’t wake up one morning and decide this. It just is where I am. This world is touched by communicating with it, either verbally or by silently acknowledging and silently conversing. I might see a hawk in the sky and say “Morning Hawk”, or just think “What a beautiful bird you are Hawk” and go on with the morning. I might walk by an old tree and say (or think) “Hello old one. You have a fine crop of leaves. I wonder what you have seen in your life.”

No, I don’t get answers in any traditional way. I don’t hear (usually) voices in my head. But sometimes just a whisper of “I see you”.

Being in touch with the world this way opens up all kinds of dialogues and discussions. Trip on a rock in the path and swear “Bloody rock!” and I might just think “Well, don’t blame me: You are the clumsy bastard who tripped.” Was that really the rock? Probably not, but maybe? Hell if I know. But I know this: I have lots to say to the things around me, and the things around have lots to say in return. You just have to listen.

I noticed shortly after moving to the current house that a medium sized beech tree had a woman’s face looking at me from the base of the trunk. From a distance of 30 feet or so she was perfect. Looked a little like the image of “Ruby Tuesday”. Big hair, pretty face. But when I walk up to the tree, she disappears. Take a picture and no woman. So I decided she must be a dryad. Shy but interested. She watches the yard and takes note of what goes on. I talk to her sometimes when I am out that way, but she never answers back. Not yet anyway. But from the kitchen she is reassuringly there, looking pretty and watching.

Say what you will about me. Crazy? Deluded? Fantasizing? Normal (no, never that) or keyed into the world like few others. Remember that the old pagan religions of the world considered everything to be animate and reachable with the right spirit. Maybe more of you should look to the world around you and try to get in touch. The next time your car dings to remind you to take the keys, try saying “thank you”. Or the next time you see a bug crossing your path say “Morning bug. Going to be a great day you think?” As an old lady I once knew would say “It may not help, but it wouldn’t hurt.”

Image: https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/01/fe/bf/01febf9d4ffbc9ef334eba725f031a65.jpg

Operation Jade Helm: A Confederacy of Dunces (with apologies to the original)

The are called "war games" after all

I will admit that I can be surprised from time to time. But I cannot be surprised by the level of stupidity of some Americans. The cooked up “panic” over a long planned military exercise in Texas is a great example. You know the details: Closed Walmarts to be used for detention  centers; martial law to be declared in Texas and other southwest states; Obama to declare himself a 3rd term that will last for 5 years. And FEMA is setting up detention camps. All with absolutely no factual basis at all. And the Texas governor mobilizes the Texas National Guard for standby status.  And Chuck Norris joins Ted Cruz in the conspiracy watch (1).

What a bunch of incredible morons. I suppose Obama will use all the guns he had confiscated to take over Texas? (NONE) The amazing thing is that thousands of Texans and other conservatives actually believe this. Not surprising, just amazing.

Now, if it happens I will be the first to admit they were right and I was horribly wrong. But it won’t happen, and then what? Well, the conspiracy morons will claim that their “vigilance” kept it from happening. What MORONS!!!

Image: http://www.davidicke.com/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2015/03/Untitled-419-587x377.jpg

1. http://www.washingtonpost.com/news/morning-mix/wp/2015/05/05/chuck-norris-joins-ted-cruz-and-others-in-operaton-jade-helm-conspiracy-watch/

A Particularly Horrible Fate

On a very

gloomy afternoon, Chipmunk and Weasel were playing “catch the tail” in a big hollow log. They would run in circles trying to catch each other’s tail and yell “GOTCHA” if they succeeded. After a while, they sprawled on the floor, panting, and decided they needed to get out and do some exploration.

So, being young and adventurous, they decided to go to the forbidden “farm” (although they didn’t know what a “farm” was) on the edge of the Valley. Off they went scampering through the wet undergrowth to the meadow. On the other side of the meadow they could just see the farm mounds (we call them houses, but to the animals of the Valley, humans lived in elaborate mounds). They quickly ran across the meadow and sneaked around one of the mounds that seemed to be full of large white birds. “What kind of birds are those” asked Chipmunk? “Don’t know” said Weasel, “I never saw birds like that. All they do is walk around and peck the ground.” They moved on and saw another structure they recognized as a cage from some of the storied the grandpas tell on summer nights under the stars. “Look’, said Weasel, “A cage with a rabbit it in. Let’s climb up and see if we know him.”  

They got up on the cage and sure enough there was a rabbit inside, sad and lonely. “Hey Rabbit!” called Chipmunk. “How did you get in there?” “I was born here” said the rabbit. “My mother was a prisoner and had lots of babies before she died. I am the only one left. The human here is keeping me to eat me, I think.”  “EAT YOU” cried both of the explores together. “That is terrible! We will get you out if we can.” And just then they heard a loud noise and a big splinter of wood flew off the side of the cage. “RUN” said the rabbit. “Here comes the human with his killing thing.”

But the explorers didn’t run. They hid under the cage in an old rat burrow and waited until the human left. Then, they crept up to the cage door and began chewing on the wooden peg holding the door shut. “Hurry” cried Rabbit, “He may come back any minute”. So they chewed and chewed and finally the peg dropped out of the hole, and the door swung open. “Quick. Jump down and run with us. We will hide in the meadow, and then run into the Valley where you will be safe.”

Off they ran. Chipmunk, Weasel and Rabbit, their new friend.

Later, during the storytelling, they told of their adventure and introduced their new friend to the others. An old grannie rabbit volunteered to teach the young rabbit about surviving in the Valley. Chipmunk and Weasel were in trouble for going to the farm but were praised for their bravery for rescuing the young rabbit. They were given a one day “Time out”, no play time, and had to go to bed without their supper.

After the time out day was over, they got together with their new friend and played all summer. They never went back to the farm, but often wondered about strange birds that peck the ground and never talk. As they got older, they decided that some things were just mysteries that didn’t need to be solved. The rabbit knew better though, and secretly vowed to go back to the farm to be sure no more animals were caged and eaten. He was a very brave rabbit, and after a long life had saved many others from a horrible fate.

Image: http://amazingnature.us/mammals/weasel102311a.jpg

http://www.njpalisades.org/images/chipmunkFournier.jpg

And Yet Another Old Friend Dies.

If you knew Gus, you know this is true

We met at the Morton Building in Charlottesville when PVCC was being planned. He was the chair of Humanities and Social Sciences and I was the chair of Everything else. Two chairmen to start with. He planned courses and curricula, space and technology and of course faculty and staff for his area and I did the same for mine. Except mine was bigger and way more complex. I had Math and Science and a few other things. We were moving into a brand new purpose built building, and Gus and I were the real architects of the academic spaces. Of course there was a librarian and a dean of students for that area, but we ruled the campus from conception to execution. And beyond.

We were chalk and cheese in some ways: Science vs Humanities. But Gus was interested in science and I was interested in everything, so we fit. Both named Richard too. We spent years developing the camaraderie of quietness that only comes from friends who know each other well. We worked hard together and played harder together. Both with families and by our selves. We  were hell raisers on trips, but we got the job done.

The Gus and Woody stories are numerous and some legendary, but they mostly die with me. No one needs to be reminded what we did, where, when and how if they were a part of it. No one needs to know details if they weren’t. We both eventually left PVCC for other institutions and we both retired Emeritus. We lost touch over the years, but never lost connection or memories.

He died on April 10^th at age 74. I am 75. I have only one friend I have known longer, and he is still going. I hope.

The world will miss old Gus. His infectious laugh, his political insights, his brilliant teaching and his quiet friendship. Rest easy old friend. You won’t be alone too much longer. The poker crowd is catching up, and maybe we will get a good game going with Me, You, Forest, Ed, and sometimes Chick and Peter and a few others. Remember Peter and the Keys? Remember Deep Throat? Oh yes, we do too. Good days are ahead. Hang in there. And rest easy. Your legacy is well secured. Oh yeah. His name was Richard Carl Gossweiler Jr. Probably the least important to know about old Gus.

Image: https://yifof.files.wordpress.com/2015/01/d19310c18de3dbdcf37087115b5722ab.jpg

Political Season Opens with a BANG!!!

Politics. It never ends does it? Now we are well into the pre-2016 election season and the woodwork had yielded up many critters. Some obviously flawed some ridiculous and a few probably worthy of consideration.

In the next few months the candidates will begin the winnowing process, and then when the primaries come around the “people” will have a say. Well, some people. Most voters won’t bother to vote in the primaries so the ideologues on all sides will really determine who gets to run and who stays home. Both major parties have candidates and no doubt a few third party people will crop up to screw things up.

You don’t think third party candidates don’t make a difference? Ralph Nader gave the election to the Bush/Cheney ticket. He got the exact opposite of what he stood for. And we all got, well, you know what we got. The third party candidates usually siphon off liberal votes and make it harder for Democrats to win elections. Not so much for Republicans. They have a much tighter process once the bloodletting is over.

So this election cycle we will all be standing on the side watching the parties and candidate try to differentiate themselves from the rest, and try to convince voters to get out and vote. There will be time later for dissecting the actual nominees so for now I am just going to relax and enjoy the spectacle of the Republicans eating their young. But don’t think that whoever wins their process won’t be a formidable candidate. The Democrats will have their hands full, and the Republicans will be fighting a tough challenger. And who knows what moronic third parties will crop up to throw sand in the gears of the electoral process. And who knows what laws will be passed to interferewith voting.  And who knows how much money will be poured into the election by foreign powers and superrich oligarchs. A lot.

Image: http://www.businessnewsdaily.com/images/i/000/002/481/i02/democrat-republican.jpg?1339609323

An Old Woodpecker Finds Help and Peace

Squirrel  and Possum were moping around in an old hollow log one rainy afternoon. “Possum, I am bored. Let’s go out in the rain and have some fun. Let’s explore!!” “Well, I was just going to try a nap, but OK, I’m with you.”

Off they went in the rain down a path that eventually took them to a small stream. After having a long drink, they decided to climb an old dead tree nearby and see what they could see from the top. About half way up, they found a dark hole and decided to explore inside the tree. Squirrel went first since he was the smallest and by far the most inquisitive. They poked around for a bit, and then were startled and frightened when a voice called “Help! Help me please” and the voice got weaker. They cautiously looked into a cavity and there was an old woodpecker, weak from starvation and no water, and nearly  blind. “Oh” cried possum! “You frightened us. Can we help?”

Well, the woodpecker was surprised that the furry ones would even think of helping her, but felt a spark of hope. “I am thirsty and very hungry, and can’t seem to fly to find food or water. I don’t think you can really help me, but at least I can die with someone with me.”. “Die? We won’t let you die. We will get some water and food and take care of you.” And so their work began. First the friends had to find something to bring in some water, and then find some food. There was plenty of water outside the tree because it was raining, but nothing to collect it in. Then, Squirrel spotted a large acorn. He chewed the nut out and left a perfect cup where the nut had been. Carefully, the friends filled the cup with water and climbed the tree. It spilled out. Then they took the nut cup up to the hole and filled it with rain running down the trunk. IT WORKED!. Now, they carefully carried the water to the back of the hollow where the woodpecker had her first drink in days.  “Oh thank you children” she said, and fell into a deep sleep.

The friends then went out and found seeds and some grubs. Squirrel packed the seeds into his cheeks, while possum made a pouch from a leaf and loaded it with grubs.

When they got back to the hollow, the woodpecker was awake, and as she ate for the first time in many days she thanked them again. “I never thought furries would help an old bird like me. In fact, I have never even had a furry friend. I am so lucky.” “And you don’t have to worry. Every day we will bring more food and water for you until you get well enough to go out on your own.” Woodpecker thought “But I am blind, and may never be able to fly again.” But she didn’t say anything. After the boys left, she crept to the opening in the tree and realized she could still see shadows and smell the woods around her. She flew away to a distant tree, and there rested until she was strong enough to hunt for her own food. Old age and weakness caught her, though, and she died peacefully in her sleep a week later.

When the friends got back to the tree the next afternoon, they found the hollow empty and wondered where the woodpecker went. “Do you suppose she is alright Squirrel?” said Possum. “Yes, she has probably has found her family and is at peace.”

And one week later she was.

Image: http://images.paraorkut.com/img/wallpapers/1024x768/p/possum_-1341.jpg

Image: http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/0/0a/Eastern_Grey_Squirrel.jpg

America in Transition: From “Freedom from Discrimination” to “Freedom to Discriminate”

"America is undergoing a very troubling transition. For the last 30 or 40 years or so Christian fundamentalists have been systematically pushing a Religious agenda at state and national levels, and when denied because of our Constitution scream "WAR AGAINST CHRIST!!! And Christians." They are slowly gaining traction and now are a major force in politics. This law is just the latest evidence of the infiltration of religion. We are moving in the direction of a Theocracy unless the electorate wakes up and sees the problem. So far, they don't seem to be awake."

The above response was to an Australian friend on a Facebook post regarding the Indiana religious freedom law just past. She asked "What happened to freedom of choice?"

Well, the problem is freedom of choice is going away. Many of my "friends" on Facebook won't agree, but the obvious fact is this: Unless you are a Christian and regularly invoke God (as in God Bless America, or public prayer invoking God or Jesus) your career in politics will be limited or non-existent. 

When a State proposes a law that will make it legal to discriminate against anyone for anything by simply saying 'They offend my religion (read Christianity) and therefore I don't want to serve them", who is safe from this kind of discrimination? In my experience of living, I have seen every possible group and kind of people on the receiving end of discrimination. My own father had a discriminatory epithet for almost everyone other than him and family. He wasn't

alone either. Blacks, Jews, Gays, Hungarians, Chinese, Japanese, Germans, Gypsies,  (although my mother was a German Gypsy), people from New Jersey or Pennsylvania. The list was endless. Had he been in the restaurant business, under the Indiana law he could have posted a sign excluding all these and anyone else he wanted because they offended his "religion".

I am fairly certain that the law in question will be stalled by legal challenges and ultimately ruled unconstitutional by the Supreme Court. Then the people who put the law in place will scream "War Against Christians" again, and it will start over again.

Where and when will it end? When the majority of Americans who do not want discrimination get off their asses and vote the morons out who do. And that, my Friends, is the problem. The majority of Americans currently seem to be solidly on their asses and show no sign of getting off. 

Do not forget Martin Niemöller and his famous statement "First they came for the socialists - - - - - - - " ( 1 ). By the time you wake up, it may well be too late. It may already be too late. 

1. www.ushmm.org/wlc/en/article.php?ModuleId=10007392

Image: https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpsnXLnoijg09nV_dAGMm7PJyRYlngMHSgY_bKL4efXy9cyfCElDaWht7uC6Ff8xpbA4i344lKGS8P-7Su_sRTgAcyhdD23E_yuxRoKhQUlITQdphTmDKj0ks-3BNQrTVw0M7oqtKzGBY/s1600/Poor-Oppressed-Christians-72687787000.jpeg

A Tale of Strange Friends and Their Adventure

Fin

(Father and son looking out of a window at a bird feeder with one goldfinch sitting on it)

Dad, why is that bird all by himself? I thought they stayed together in flocks.

Batty

I don’t know Billy, but I know a story about a very brave Goldfinch who was also alone. Want to hear it?

Oh yes please!

Once upon a time a flock of goldfinches were getting ready to go north for the summer to nest in Virginia. They were eating flower and weed seeds to build up energy for the long flight. One of the flock, a young male named Fin, had a cold and was feeling very weak and woozy. The flock leader, Grandfather finch, had delayed leaving to give Fin time to get better, but Fin was still very sick.

“We will have to leave the day after tomorrow if we are going to get to the nesting grounds in time” said Grandfather. But he thought to himself “I doubt if Fin will be well enough to leave or strong enough to make the trip”.

The birds all started to talk at once, some wanting to leave now and others wanting to wait for Fin, but Grandad held up his wing and said “We will wait until tomorrow to see how Fin is feeling, but we will leave the day after.”

While the argument was going on, Fin was listening quietly from a nearby bush. He was very sad that the flock was being divided by his sickness and did not want to be the cause of that kind of trouble. He decided that the best thing for him to do would be to disappear and make the flock think he had been eaten by a cat so they would unite and leave in time.

Fin flew to the edge of the woods and pulled a few feathers from his breast and let them float to the ground. He then flew into the woods to a hollow tree he had spotted a few days ago while he was looking for weeds.

As he crept into the hollow, he was frightened by a pair of eyes looking at him from the darkness. He said “I’m sorry. I didn’t know this hollow had someone living in it.” As he started to leave, a small voice squeaked “That’s OK; I live on the celling and don’t use the floor. You can stay and we can share the room.”

Fin said “Thanks, but will you tell me who you are?” The voice squeaked “My name is Batty, and I am a bat. I live in this tree in the winter, where I sleep most of the time, and then go to a wonderful cave in Virginia for the summer. What a wonderful life!!!”

“My name is Fin, and I am a Goldfinch. I am too sick to leave on the spring migration to the nesting grounds, so I am hiding. The flock will think I have been eaten by a cat and will leave on time. It makes me sad to stay behind, but the flock has got to get to the nesting ground in time to lay eggs and raise babies.”

A foraging finch from the flock found Fin’s feathers and cried “EVERYONE!! I have found feathers from Fin’s breast. He must have been attacked. He is GONE!!”

Well, the flock was really upset, but Grandfather decided to leave the next morning. Fin’s mate was really upset, but she had spent the rest of the afternoon looking and calling for Fin, and she was convinced he was dead.

Fin and Batty watched as the flock left. Batty suggested that when Fin was feeling better and stronger, they could travel together, as the nesting ground was not too far from her cave.

So, after a week or so, the two unlikely companions and new friends left for Virginia. They traveled at night and rested by day. They flew through storms and cold and often didn’t eat for days. But eventually they reached the area where Fin’s flock nested for the summer, and Batty flew off alone to the cave. Fin called after him “BATTY!! Come back to visit, and remember, we are going South together this fall!”

After a few days, Fin found the flock and was reunited with his Grandfather and his mate, a beautiful young finch named Gold.

Together they built a nest and raised a fine brood of baby finches. Batty visited often, and once the flock got used to her was always a welcomed friend. In the fall, they all went South together and found peace in the winter feeding grounds.

Strangely, no-one ever asked Fin what had happened, and Fin never told.

In bird circles, the tale of the Strange Friends and Their Adventure is still told, and many baby Goldfinches are named “Fin”.
Image: Bat: http://www.interstatetermite.com/bats/images/littlebrownbat.jpg

Goldfinch: https://soimahomebody.files.wordpress.com/2011/04/goldfinch-google.jpg

Stand your ground and still die.

A canine cop and dog were trailing a suspect in pine woods in southwest Florida. The dog stuck his/her face into a rattle snake and got bitten. Here is the part that pisses me off. The cop shot the snake and then took the dog to a vet for anti-venom. The dog survived and the snake did not. 
Now remember that Florida is a "Stand your Ground" state. If threatened you may use lethal force to defend yourself. You are legally entitled to kill the threatening person. So the snake was in its own territory, minding its own business when threatened by a dog. The dog didn't back off, so the snake stood its ground and used possibly lethal force in defending itself. For this it got killed. And the cop who pulled the trigger? No charges. Murder of an innocent. 
Ok, I realize that the laws of people usually don't apply to animals. Usually but not always. Say a pit bull bites a person in an unprovoked attack. The dog will be captured, quarantined and possibly put down. Not shot on the spot. 
Ok, I realize that snakes aren’t pit bulls. But they are just animals trying to survive in an increasingly diminishing landscape. They are NOT the aggressor. We are. They do not deserve to be killed just because they are snakes, or because they defended themselves. 
So what should the cop have done? Pulled back the dog and gone to the vet for a shot. Not killed an innocent animal that was merely defending itself in an unprovoked attack. Merely Standing its Ground. Maybe if the snake was named George it would have survived. 

Image: http://origin.news10.net/images/300/169/2/assetpool/images/081011041119_rattlesnake-320.jpg

A Bit of Bravery.

A long time ago, before humans moved in next to the Valley, the animals who lived there developed the ability to talk to each other. Some had a lot to say, some not much, some were very smart and others not so much. But they all had something to contribute. Of course the usual hopes, joys, fears and worries were a part of their lives. So was predation. Some animals like mice rabbits and birds were prey, while some like hawks and snakes were predators. All accepted this as a way of life and did their best to get along.

But every so often, maybe even rarely, very unlikely animals became friends. This is such a tale.

Blue Jay was hopping along one warm spring morning looking for something to eat when she heard a low moaning sound. “Hmmmm” she wondered. What was that? Again she heard it and hopped towards the sound. And then “FEAR FEAR FEAR” !!! She called. There on the ground before her was a rat snake. Blue Jay didn't know any snakes except for “Stripy”, the garden snake in her school, but she knew that rat snakes ate birds. And she was a bird. Quickly she flew back, still calling her Fear call. Then, she heard the snake moan again and whisper “Help me. Please. Somebody. Help me.”

Well, at first Blue Jay thought it was a ploy to get her close so the snake could eat her, but the moan sounded so hurtful she hopped near for another look. “Bird!” cried the snake. “Please help me. I have been caught in a snare set by Humans for rabbits and cannot get out. I have been here for days and I am afraid that the Human will kill me if he finds me. They hate snakes. Why? I have never so much as touched one.”

“But snake, if I come close you will eat me. Why should I help you just to have you kill me?” “I won’t hurt you, I promise. I am so frightened. Please help me. I promise I won’t hurt you.” “And what about other birds? My family? Can you promise not to hurt them?” “No I cannot. My nature is to eat birds and other animals, and so I must. But I can promise you that I will never touch a bird like you, ever again. Only PLEASE!!  Help me. I think I feel feet pounding on the ground.”

Blue Jay decided to try to help, and looked over the snare. She noticed that a stout string held the loop to a branch, and that was keeping the snake caught and hanging mostly in the air. She perched near the knot and using her beak gradually untied it. Finally the string let go and the snake fell to the ground. Then she saw the Human. He had a heavy stick and was raising it over his head to hit the snake, so she yelled “RUN SNAKE!!! I will distract the Human.” She flew into his face and then flew away quickly, giving the snake just enough time to escape into the bushes. Later, she found him coiled near a stream. He was sunning and resting after his ordeal. She flew onto a branch over him and said “Hey Snake! Wake up! Looks like you are OK after all. And I hope you remember your promise to me. And by the way, my name is Blue Jay.”

The snake looked up and said “Oh, Blue Jay. Thank you for saving me. Of course I remember my promise. Come down here so we can talk and be friends.” So Blue Jay flew to the ground where the snake coiled around her gently and said “Blue Jay, you will always have a protected place within my coils. And your family too. My name is Slither, and I will always be your friend.” And although Slither was a snake, and ate many birds during his long life, he never once ate a blue jay. And Blue Jay had a friend and protector for as long as she lived. In fact, she introduced many of her babies to Slither, and they often could be seen perching on his coils as he sunned himself. Strange friends indeed. But sometimes it just happens. Usually takes a bit of bravery, though.

Image: https://terra4incognita.files.wordpress.com/2007/11/mbluejay1.thumbnail.jpg?w=500

Slow Ride Session IPA from New Belgium

First the good news:  Better than Bud Light. That’s it. Well, maybe a bit more good news. It may be better than Bud. But that is about all.

I probably don’t know what a session IPA should be like, so I had to measure this against my own taste in brews. Ok, I admit it. I love really hoppy and malty brews. High IBUs, moderately high ABVs, robust color, chewy mouth feel. You know. Real IPA.

This brew now in a Sam Adams glass for perfect sniffing and sipping is yellowish to gold, no lacing, and no head after a minute, not much in the way of “nose” It does have a slightly hoppy bitterness on the front end, and none on the back of the tongue. A good burp didn’t give any serious aftertaste either.

My recommendation: Useful for hot days and BBQs where the usual American crap presides. Would be good for hot foods or a brewski when sweating on a hot afternoon. Not a bad beer, just not a good sipping beer. More of a slurping beer. If you want a nice IPA, this isn’t it. If you want an unassuming beer good for washing down spicy food and drinking all day long, this will be a better choice than the macro brews. If possible, buy one or two bottles. Then you won’t have to think up an excuse to finish the six pack.

Image: http://www.newbelgium.com/images/beerfeature/slowride_l.png

Quite a Journey: Woody's Work History

Just another kind of Gold

It all started with NPR this morning. The article was about the number of jobs the millennials have had and will have during their career. Millennials apparently change jobs fairly often. The article then looked at boomers, and found that they also had lots of jobs, an average of 14, until they hit their 40s, and then they settled into a career of sorts. 
I decided to take a look at my own work career and see where I stacked up compared to a boomer, even though I am a pre-boomer by about 6 years. The list below is the result, mostly in order of work. And I may have forgotten something, or omitted something that may have been a one-off, you know, like earn a few bucks helping a neighbor wash their house. That kind of thing. All the jobs in the list were actually pay check earning employment with some longevity.
I had 16 different jobs before my first full time college teaching position, which morphed into administration which morphed back to teaching. In other words, the career. My first teaching position was in 1969, which means that I had 16 jobs of one kind or another by the time I was 29 years old. So, I started my career in higher education by age 30, well ahead of most boomers. 
As I look over the list I am kind of surprised at the variety of things represented. I guess a point is this: When I needed to work, I found a job, and I didn't really care what I was doing as long as there was a pay check at the end of the week. 
Another job I had while in graduate school the last time, this would be the early 1980s was picking up cans and aluminum scrap on the roadside in Tallahassee. I was often seen walking with a bag, picking up silver gold that others had thrown away. And WOW! what a break when I found a pile of aluminum of window blinds. That was real cash. No shame in doing an honest day’s work. 

baby sitter
paper boy
lawn mowing
chicken dinner  boy
pumping gas
body shop labor
meat department worker
produce clerk
mason helper
mechanic
fishing tackle sales
graduate teaching assistant
classroom teacher
substitute teacher
tutor
research assistant
college teacher
building renovation
co-owner and laborer of landscape business
college administrator
adjunct professor

Image: http://1v550a3jlx4d2lc773o373z5qn.wpengine.netdna-cdn.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/08/can-recycling.jpg

Thank You Kimberly Bliss (Soubielle)

Kimberly Bliss Souvielle, known to me as Kim Bliss, killed her abusing husband and got 15 years for 2^nd degree murder. She was released by the clemency board in Florida in 1993, and went on to graduate from Law School and become an activist for battered women. I met her in the early 2000’s, maybe 2003 or 2004 when she was hired to teach in the Social Work department and I taught Biology at Thomas University.

The campus was abuzz with her story. Men and women were uncomfortable. I didn’t know what to make of her. So I got to know her. Her case was controversial.  Murder or self defense. We never talked about her case directly, but we talked many times about women in abusive relationships and how powerless they were.

It would be wrong to say that she changed my mind about abused women, or if women should have the right to defend themselves. I have always believed that anyone being abused should have the right and the duty to use whatever force needed to stop the abuse. The police, social system and courts certainly didn’t do much. And still don’t. So, she didn’t convince me of anything or change my mind. She glued the whole thing together for me in a way only someone as passionate as her could have done. I moved from understanding to advocate.

I once told someone that I had probably broken up more homes that most people. The look I got was telling. “What you? You a lover or something?” was what I read in the look. And no, not by being a Casanova. By telling scores of my female students who trusted me enough to talk to me that they were smart and worthy of respect and to take no crap from a husband who belittled, demeaned or physically abused them.

Kim’s story and passion for women in distress should be a beacon for all of us. Now, if we could only change the Police, Courts, Judges and Laws. Slowly it is happening. But WAY TO SLOW.

Image: http://www.acmenovelties.net/writing/images/abused_woman_435px.png

http://www.apnewsarchive.com/1993/Florida-Woman-Gets-Clemency-for-Murder-of-Husband/id-2fa2a74d01aaa75e87d9bc397868fa2c

http://www.timesenterprise.com/news/local_news/article_36429b8e-77fb-516f-a76e-302be787bf4f.html

A Tale of Early Promise: Little A is a Hero.

Rabbit get Hydration Treatment

On a warm and sunny afternoon the boy went back to the valley to see his friend Rabbit. School was out for the summer, and he missed his friend and their walks and story sharing. He looked and looked and called his name but could not find Rabbit anywhere. He was just about to leave when he heard a soft trembling voice. “Boy? Are you Little A?” Little A looked around but didn’t’ see anyone so said that he was. Then the voice said “If I come out you won’t step on me will you?” “Of course not. But where are you?” And with that, a small mouse crept from behind a pine cone and said “Here. Rabbit has gone away. His mother sent him to take care of his Grandmother in the next valley. He never came back and we are all afraid to go look for him. Would you?”

Little A said “Or course I will. Which way did he go?” Mouse showed Little A the path that lead to Grandma Rabbit and Little A ran off as fast as he could. On the way over the hill into the next valley, Little A noticed a bit of fur on the ground and cried out “Oh No!! That looks like rabbit fur. Oh I hope it isn’t Rabbit’s.” On he went until he found Grandma Rabbit’s burrow and called in “Grandma Rabbit? Grandma Rabbit? Is Rabbit home?” Well, Grandma was a bit surprised when she limped to the entrance and saw a human, but being old and wise in the ways of the world she knew that this boy was not a danger. “Who are you? You mean my Grandson Rabbit? Why should he be here?” “His mother sent him here several days ago to help you. Didn’t he get here?” “No” said Grandma. “I haven’t seen him since the last time I had dinner at his burrow. Oh dear! Something must have happened to him. I will go out looking right now!” “Please Grandma Rabbit. Let me. I will call him and ask other animals. He must be somewhere between here and his burrow.”

And so Little A backtracked and asked some birds, a few mice, and a frog, but no one had seen Rabbit. The sun was going down, and Little A had to be home before dark, so he headed off towards his house, which was not the direction of Rabbit's burrow. And a good thing he did too. Not far from the path he found a snare, and there was Rabbit, caught by his hind legs, hanging upside down, and almost dead. Little A gently released the loop and held Rabbit tight to his chest. He said “Rabbit? Rabbit? Can you hear me? I am going to take you home and get you some help. Please don’t die. Please?”

Rabbit opened his eyes a bit and said “I am very weak and thirsty. I don’t think I will die, but please hurry.” A week later, Little A took Rabbit, much stronger now and rested, back to his burrow and his mother. He had seen a mouse on the way to his house and asked the mouse to tell Rabbits mother that Rabbit was hurt and he, Little A, would take care of him. It was a fine reunion when Rabbit hugged his mother at the entrance to the burrow. Little A was the hero of the Valley and for many years after he graduated from Vet school Little A continued to treat wild animals, and was known far and wide. He always had a special place in his heart for rabbits, though, and never forgot his friend Rabbit.

Image: https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNEUS8urdgMuU7R37z99KrKwjDT7n4rGQMM8btqWnoIvWFxVB47l037U50A2EwlRm1MpWYH3_O7TKV9jrn_DI-HYDdr1hyphenhyphengkYJ7QQBbj7BzRE7IHIwUUWi9rkGUj8GRymMpJvZyQe4mg/s400/SJRescue4_072709.jpg

A Tale of Grandpa Possum or, "Just for Fun"

Early one morning a young squirrel was sitting in a tall oak tree enjoying the sunrise when something exploded near him. He ran around the tree trunk in panic, and peeked out to see what had happened. Then he saw a human. The human had crept up  near the tree and pointed something at him that exploded with a loud noise. Another explosion! And this time a big piece of bark was torn from the tree. Suddenly his parent’s warnings echoed in his head: “HUNTER – KILLER!! HUMAN!!”

Grandpa Possum was shot "Just for Fun"

He was very frightened and clung to the tree, shaking. Another explosion and the tip of his tail was torn off. He ran as fast as he could, jumping from branch to branch and tree to tree until he was completely out of breath. “I hope I am safe now” he thought. And then “Oh no! What about all my friends? What if the Hunter sees them? They might be killed!” Squirrel ran quickly to Rabbit's burrow and called out “RABBIT!! RABBIT!! Don’t come out. There is a HUNTER in the Valley.” Well, of course Rabbit did come out to see what the ruckus was all about and Squirrel told him what had happened. They decided to run to their other friends and warn them of the danger, so Squirrel went one way and Rabbit went another. They warned as many friends as they could and then went to Rabbit's burrow to hide. But they missed Grandpa Possum because he was sleeping and didn’t hear them. When he woke up from his nap, he wandered outside to stretch his legs and felt a sharp pain in his head, and then felt no more.

Two boys walked up to the possum, kicked it and one asked “Why’d you kill that nasty thing? I’m not going to carry it home. You want it?” “Naw,” the other said. “I just wanted to see if I could hit it. And I did. Dead center in the head. Never even knew what hit it. Stupid possum.”

Later that day the animals crept from their hiding places and found Grandpa Possum, cold and bloody. The Possum Family gathered around his body and cried and cried. A very young possum asked his mother “Why did our Grandpa die?” His mother just held him close and said “Humans are sometimes cruel and heartless. They kill and destroy for no reason, and they make no sense at all. You must learn from this to always be wary and afraid of Humans. Never trust them. And if you see one, run away and warn others.”

There was sadness in the Valley for several days after Grandpa Possum died, but gradually life returned to normal. Grandpa Possum was loved by all, and remembered by most. Tales of his life were always included when the animals gathered in a “story circle”. The story of his death too. As a lesson not to be forgotten. And later that year, two more animals were killed by the Humans. Just for fun.

Image: http://i288.photobucket.com/albums/ll180/bradyman1/1-24-11to1-31-111stpossum026.jpg

Coming of Age, or, Growing up Straight.

Here's a tale of growing up. A little background first about atmosphere of my family. My father had many friends (can't remember a black one, though). He was a sales engineer in an international firm and although limited to the east coast including New York and Washington, D.C. mixed with people from all over the world. His friends were Catholics, Jews, and Protestants of all stripes. Closer friends were from all over Europe pre- and post WWII. He had a nasty epithet for everyone. Even States were not exempt ( Damn New Jersey driver!!!).

He and my mother were particularly worried that their boys would be accosted by a man (undefined by them to me) and hurt (also undefined but they meant pedophile which to them included all gay men as well. Consider the times - 1940s). So into this atmosphere of verbal intolerance fear and no boundaries what-so-ever within their social or work groups I was born and raised. Jews were kikes, except for our neighbors. Italians were guineas or sheenies, except for our neighbors. You get the point. So I grew up with a clear dichotomy played out.
Homosexuals were never even mentioned except in the abstract and then lumped with pedophiles.
I grew up wary of "those kind of men" that would "pick you up" (don't get into a car with a man, don't go into a strangers house alone etc). When I had my first inseparable friend, John, my mother worried that were too close. Yet, in my school I had friends that were gay (I didn't know it) and at least one gay teacher (we all knew) who was a great guy. I had failed girlfriend relationships (my mother worried) but lots of male friends (my mother worried). So, off to college.
In Miami there was a place called Bay Front Park where the queers cruised. There were queer bars and queer hangouts. By then I knew ( I thought) what queers did. I had friends who went to the park and rolled older weaker queers. I never went with them, but never really objected either. To this day I feel ashamed of that.
One time in 1960 or so a guy approached me outside of a diner that I lived in, showed me a strip of paper with a ruler printed on it and "peter meter" printed on it as well. He asked me if I wanted to see how it worked. I said no and he went away. Life threatening brush with queerdom. My sexuality had solidified by then to raging hetero, and my mother worried because the girls were cheap. No pleasing some mothers.
I had a friend in graduate school, 1963, who trusted me enough to come out to me. In a rush one night in the lab the said "I'm a homosexual. I hope this doesn't change our friendship". I will never forget my wise and insightful response. It haunts me to this day. "I'm OK with that as long as you don't try anything with me", I said. Surprise.He never mentioned it again. We stayed friends.
By this time I also heard of girl queers, but thought that a good stiffie would "cure" them (that's what all my friends thought, all us male assholes). Just a lack of the good old rod. Show'em the way and they will love it and you for ever. Only problem is I never knew if I knew one. I never knew anyone who had "cured" one, but I knew lots of guys that loved the girl-on-girl porno films (8mm in those days).
Fast forward through the 60s (I was there but AWOL on the free love and drug scene). I got a good leadership job in academia and lo and behold, our librarian (in his 50's) was a homo. Great guy, lived with his "brother". We were social friends, close at times, and never once talked about his sexuality (or mine for that matter). He left both the job and his brother and went off with a young blond man on some long journey. I was disgusted to think what they were doing all day in that sailboat. Then epiphany: what ever it was, it was a small part of who he was and didn't change all that I loved about him. So, says I to me, just get over it. I did. Then and there.
Then the 80s hit with a vengeance, and gays were dying of unknown causes. "Gods will" some of my students chanted. For what I asked? For loving someone? For being different? I knew what they meant, and the sadness of this tale is that they are still around and still saying the same thing. Then straights began to fall, AIDS was named and HIV was identified as the culprit.
By now I had gay and lesbian friends and students who were mostly not out but were with me.
I got angry when someone proposed that we have a Baptist Student Union because I don't like exclusivity of any kind, and proposed to sponsor a GLBT student union. I was told the day I did that I would be fired on the spot. So much for ya'll come liberal arts education. "Ya'll come, but some of you stay safely in the closet" was more like it.
So I sponsored the "SafeZone" initiative on campus and quietly pursued organizing the GLBT (we didn't have any T's yet) and became the sponsor. Didn't get fired. But the GLBT students were mostly not interested in a public group, and the organizing student died of a brain tumor, so the nascent organization fizzled.
During this time I made many friends, some of them straight and a goodly number not.
Then my son came out. No surprise there. He told us he was seeing someone. I told him straight up that his love would be unwelcome in my house if he was a - - - - - - - - republican. (he wasn't' but still would have been welcome to our log cabin of sorts).
Matt and John are now married (God bless Iowa) and we love them both. And they love each other. And who cares what they do in bed? I don't.

A long journey from a home built on love but infused with intolerance. My early days with homosexuality were low points for me in terms of tolerance. I was what I learned. But I like to think that as I grew up I grew out of all that and finally arrived at the man I am today. Many shameful moments darkened my early days. I am so glad that those days are over and long behind me. It is often said that you can never go back. Who the hell would want to?

Image: http://www.eastbayexpress.com/imager/b/magnum/3405936/58d2/mg_movies1_3509.jpg

A Few More Rednecks

I was driving along a few days ago, Pandora streaming to the radio, when David Allen Coe came on with his version of A Few More Rednecks. Well, to start with, I love Coe. His rough style and straight up irreverence appeals to me. No, he isn’t even remotely Politically Correct, but who really cares?

I listened to the lyrics and thought “Damn, I agree with most of that.” Me? A Liberal? Yup. Me. The crap about guns is crap. And nobody would want John Wayne as President, seriously. But the core message to me is this:

What most people call a redneck

Ain’t nothin’ but a workin’ man

And he makes his livin’

By the sweat of his brow

And this:

But it makes my temper itch

When my hard earned money goes

To make some politician rich

There is probably a list of slurs, and “redneck” is probably on the list. Most likely it depends on who and under what circumstances it is used. Kind of like “nigger”.  A white person says it, or even says “the “N” word” and gets in all kinds of trouble. But watch “The Wire” or listen to Black people on the street and you will get tired of hearing it.

Rednecks are really just working people, mostly good folks, just trying to get by. The so-called lower class or lower middle class. With very little chance for upward mobility or real wage increases. And yet they vote in startling numbers for the Republican Party, a political party dedicated to making the rich people including most politicians richer, and keeping the poor working class people poor and undereducated.

What the hell are they thinking? Answer: they are not thinking. They are sucking up the poison put out by the rich people. They are lied to every time they turn around. And they don’t seem to be able to see it.

So maybe “a country boy will survive”, but he will always be poor and under educated. Because he votes for the overlords who keep him down, ignorant and poor.

Yes, this is a generalization, and yes, some rednecks actually see the benefit of voting issues rather than just following the party line. But if you look at the Red vs Blue states, you will see a preponderance of rednecks voting in a block for the Republican Party. Boggles the mind.

Image: http://www.city-data.com/forum/attachments/elections/35518d1233792355-rednecks-obama-rednecks-obama.jpg

1. Charlie Denials Band www.youtube.com/watch?v=nF1GiZCcL1o

Did You Hesitate?

Assuming these people truly love each other, then
Should black people be allowed to marry white people?
Should Christians be allowed to marry Jews?
Should Americans be allowed to marry Russians?
Should disabled people be allowed to marry non-disabled people?
Should blind people be allowed to marry deaf people?
Should country people be allowed to marry city people?
Should people with no education be allowed to marry Ph.Ds?
Should people who work for a living be allowed to marry retirees?
Should poor people be allowed to marry rich people?
Should a Gemini be allowed to marry a Leo?
You probably answered "YES" to these questions. You probably thought "Jeez Woody, what the hell is the point here? Marriage is a choice between two people who love each other. DUH."

So what about this:
Should a man be allowed to marry another man?
Should a woman be allowed to marry another woman?

Now, some of you hesitated. You thought a minute and then said "Well, I guess they should"
And some of you screamed "HELL NO". You are the bigoted narrow minded ones. 
And some of you yelled "HELL YES". You are the open minded inclusive ones.
You are right, by the way. 

Image: http://sandraholguin.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/04/hesitate3-300x182.jpg