Vote for me?

I am a political junkie. While I often write about ideas that are political, I try to not write about republican or democratic politics because to do so would result in the complete and sudden loss of 1/2 of my loyal readers. That's right. Never broach politics or religion in polite dinner conversation or your weekly blog. Those are words to live by. But the fever pitch of this political season has caused me to throw all prudence to the wind. To that end a religious, political, joke; Did you know that religious scholars have recently discovered that Christ lived in Chicago? That's right. They just found an ancient voting roll. It seems he voted in the May primary 39 days after Easter.

These are my 3 earliest political memories. Monday, November 4, 1968, I am walking home from Mrs. Quackenbush's first grade class and two high school kids were running down the street chanting "________, _______, he's our man. We'll throw _____ in the garbage can." Over and over incessantly. I was distraught by the time I got home. The first two blanks were my parent's guy. I go running into the house searching for comfort from mom. "how can they say that about _____? He is such a great man." That is when I learned that "those people didn't have the proper respect for other people". And that "I shouldn't worry because they won't be crowing tomorrow night."


Tuesday, November 3, 1970, I am inconsolable because my father had just gotten back from the Madison county court house and he had lost to that ________. How could people vote for him and not my  father? I don't want to hear that it was probably a good thing because dad would be busy with the farm. How could my father who I adored not win a popularity contest. I must admit that my faith was not restored in the democratic process when 6 years later dad's opponent, "the winner" was placed in the pokey for stealing township funds. I suppose that Mr. Nixon was the foreshadowing the public's ability to pick "the winner" between my dad and Mr. Griggs.  Cosmic huh?

Tuesday, November 7, 1972, mom is inconsolable because the __________ poll workers would not challenge obvious fraudulent voters who lived outside the precinct. I suppose she was trying to find the number to the secretary of state office to report it. Of course, one of the poll workers was arrested 10 years ago after a long career of voter fraud. Yes for many years, politics were a contact sport in our family. I don't know why but over time mom and dad both mellowed about politics. If they hadn't, I am sure that they would have both been in Florida in 2000 and Minnesota in 2008. We all have our moments.

I am glad that I know that the reason for my party affiliation is because my parents were _______, and people of the other persuasion are just well inferior. But I only feel that way once every couple of years. After that the fever passes and I love everyone.

Well I really need to get to the title of this blog. I am looking for your vote. While I haven't filed the appropriate papers, you can remedy the problem through the time honored institution of the write-in ballot. If in the sanctity of the voting booth, you are faced with choices that you don't want to make. Just write me in. Doesn't really matter what office. If nominated, I will run. If elected, I will serve. 

Maybe you are a republican and you don't want to vote for a Secretary of State candidate who can't remember where to vote in the primary and then is too stupid to read the fine print on his campaign material and get the stupid disclaimer on it correctly, but can't bring yourself to vote democrat, write me in. Or maybe you are a democrat and are tired of the family of the democrat state Representative always bragging about "my son the state legislator this; my son the state legislator that." You knew that dweeb in high school and well his character references outside the gene pool aren't that great, but can't bring yourself to vote for  Daniel's republican toadie, write me in. I would prefer state-wide office. Fewer residency questions to deal with. But with enough ground swell support; the residency questions can go away. As Otto Bismark said on Sunday, August 11, 1867, "politics is the art of the possible." (I remember that day too. My great-grandmother was beside herself. "That nasty old Prussian was full of himself mixing politics and religion like that.") To my Denmark, Poland and Turkey  readers, I apologize. While your following is loyal, I don't believe that we would be able to overcome the "birther's" objections to the violation of your country's constitution for me to serve if elected. (If you don't get that joke don't worry you just aren't a political junkie. If you don't think that joke is funny, don't worry you just have good taste."

I know what you are saying. "I can't vote for you, Roger." "I don't even know what you stand for."  You are absolutely right. You can't vote without knowing exactly how a person is going to represent you on the important issues of the day. Why that would just be a silly popularity contest.

Here is what I stand for. Provided to you by my own hand without the help of a ghost-writer. I call it the "Independence Day" platform; after the movie "Independence Day". Here goes. I believe that the government should only work on big a**ed intergalactic weapons and not provide any other assistance, roads, bridges, libraries, schools, health care, research and development, garbage pick up, dog catching, foreign aid, any of that stuff. We the People should have the self-awareness to provide those things for ourselves. That's right. As you can see at the following web-site http://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2010/02/01/us/budget.html our budget is just way too complicated. There should be just one column and it should say development of big a**ed intergalactic weapons $3.69 trillion. That $3.69 trillion wisely invested now will provide great dividends by the time our annihilators arrive unless they arrive next year.

I can hear you. "Visionary", your saying. You're darned right. Because someday ET's evil twin is going to come down here and be wanting to eat our young and our middle aged. (I suppose the old will be too tough to eat. I never see them getting eaten in the movies.) And we won't have any big a**ed intergalactic weapons to take out their force fields and their humongous mother ships that block out the sun. Thanks to Jeff Goldbloom, Will Smith, and Randy Quaid giving away the $42 million  plan of infecting the mother ship with a virus while driving a captured scout ship and then letting the war-damaged, drunken, pilot earn redemption by driving an F16 into it's exposed "heart"; plan A is out. So we have to start working on plan B. which is put all of our resources into hiring the Chinese, Indian, and Japanese scientists, programmers and manufacturers to build big a**ed intergalactic weapons.

Why the Chinese, Indian, and Japanese out-sourcing? Well some would say we have already lost the "battles" that count.

Take care 

Roger.

If you like it, pass it around. I enjoy a crowd.

Assets?

Bev and I have been gallivanting over southeastern Kentucky in search of pumpkin pie. We have taken a wonderful three day fall break to Berea, Kentucky and on to Cumberland Falls state park. As luck and good planning would have it, there was a full moon. Which at Cumberland Falls State Park means, it is moonbow night. The Cumberland Falls is a 60 ft fall that generates enough mist that on the night if a full moon enough refraction occurs that you can see a moonbow. For the rest of my life any time that you see me utter the word moonbow, you should hear the words snipe hunt. Moonbow isn't even in my spellchecker. I started to get suspicious when I went into the gift shop and did not see t-shirts that said "memaw and papaw went to moonbow and all I got was this lousy . . . Don't get me wrong. I loved the park. To sit there in the gloaming and listen to the roar of the falls relaxed me and lowered my blood pressure 10 points and will long be a favorite memory.

By the time the spectral or specious moonbow was sighted, Bev and I were tired and hungry. We got out of Dodge and started our search for pumpkin pie. Did you know that Cracker Barrel doesn't do pumpkin pie until November. What? According to my TV Guide, "Its the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown" always showed during October. So we spent the next 18 hours rueing Cracker Barrel and set off the next morning in search of Indiana and Bob Evans. 250 miles later the crisis was averted. We were sitting in the Shelbyville Bob Evans eating pumpkin pie in one of it's twelve appropriate months.

The back story to this trip though was the cd that I have in the car. I have been listening to Shelby Foote's "The Civil War; A narrative." The cd version contains 3 volumes and runs for 110 cd's. I have been listening since the family summer vacation to Gettysburg in July. Well, the end had finally come. Lee was holding off Grant around Petersburg and one Union probe went a little too well and the South had ran into the end of its assets. It had used up or had its men, material, and morale destroyed. Suddenly what had been defiant and stood for four years disappeared in just a few weeks.

Listening,  I kept being taken back to  my biggest collapse. When after 10 years of struggle, I had to stop farming because there were not enough assets to continue the fight. That was a constant refrain in telling the story about farming to interested supporters. I can't remember how many times I would say, "we are making our operating expenses but I am not saving up any capital." In the end,  it finally caught up.

You see that all over agriculture today. It is very seldom that you see a farmstead that is in good repair. I know that Bev and I are even now considering what to do about a couple of 100 year old barns that are on our farmstead. We have no use for them. They need $15,000 in new roofing and currently, we are paying the county government approximately $400 a year in property (rent) taxes. While we all sat behind some very expensive equipment this fall during harvest, much of it is bought on credit only to be repaid by the hardest effort and often in need of replacement before that last payment is made. The one place that I have not seen that was in Kentucky. Bev and I made a commitment to not drive on the interstate to our destination this weekend. So we went on the state roads of Kentucky. What amazed me were the number of farmsteads that were not falling in. All of these barns, well painted, well roofed and full of tobacco.

Now I don't want to get caught up in the great debate surrounding tobacco. I am only acknowledging that tobacco farmers have carved out a segment in this  society that thrives there with long term asset creation and is not failing through asset depletion.

It seems to me that we live in a time of unreal assets. Instead of farms, barns, houses, businesses creating long term wealth, most of our thriving enterprises are in pursuit of the transient. The cell phone industry creating moments that last long enough to transmit "OMG did u c what she was wearing? lol." TV whose assets are (in some cases) the wiring to our houses and the intellectual property of the latest show that is a hairs-breath away from jumping the shark. Look at Indianapolis, the only buildings in town with brick on their exteriors (which has long been an outward sign of stability and wealth) are the hospitals and our sports venues. Hospitals at best as supplying short term remedies to the ultimate asset depletion and our sports venues provide nothing more than palliative benefits to a city that can't keep its kids in school, businesses open, or buses running.

Certainly, our biggest repository of asset valuation is the stock market which to my mind makes us even more susceptible to sudden collapse. How much did the 2008 crash cost investors?  The market lost 54% of its value from 2008 to 2009. Which means nothing to me. How much was that worth? Other than a lot or gazillions. The ability to create and destroy so much wealth in months is unprecedented and unstable. Even more troubling is the fact that it is controlled by so few people. 300 million people in the US. Certainly there are less than 10,000 people of influence doing that creation and destruction. While many good and honorable people work in those positions of influence, it does appear at times that their numbers are not enough to warrant our trust.

There is no solution is this blog. Only the vague sense that we are using assets that were provided by those before us and in some cases to be paid or defaulted on by those who will follow.

Shelby Foote ended his work with a quote from Lincoln given on the night of his re-election from the balcony of the White House.

"What has occurred in this case must ever occur in similar cases. Human nature will not change. In any future great national trial compared with the men of this, we shall have as weak, and as strong, as silly, and as wise, as bad, and as good. Let us, there-fore, study at incidents of this as philosophy to learn wisdom from."

A store of wisdom;

take care.

Roger

That was fun.

First off, everyone thank Bev. Because without her being willing to drive, I would not have enough time to expound on the issues of my week. It has been a hectic weekend already and there is no relief in sight. The block of time that I had carved out for writing was filled in with a rescue effort. Grace had planned on going to W. Virginia for a friend's wedding. And in the spirit of my blog on "girls goon wild" the obvious answer to "dad I want to drive across the continent what do you think?" is "you're old enough to go to war you'll certainly be able to handle any "deliverance" hill Jack that you come across in the hills and hollers." Then I think about that reasoning and it occurs to me that yes she is old enough to go to war but she would go with a freaking big A**ed army, navy and air force. But then there are all of those well reasoned arguments, written by my own hand about letting go and I have to curse "drats foiled again batman." Blessing in hand, she and a friend take off. Well her Taurus isn't cooperative and the transmission gives way just outside Economy, IN. Poetic dropping a $1000 transmission in Economy. Talk about your economic stimulus. Someone call congress.

Then today, Bev and I are going to the Purdue game. Buoyed by the unexpected victory over the previously undefeated and ranked wildcats we are looking forward to a day of fun with family, friends, and victory. So thank you Bev for driving and giving me this hour and a half.

Back to the theme at hand,to my readers who like more coherent and cogent theme development, I apologize. Last Monday state employees got the day off in honor of founding Ohio's Capitol. Weird, but I was not going to argue. My day was to be filled with cutting, splitting, and stacking firewood getting ready for the winter ahead. . .

We just got back home. Sadly, Bev was unable to drive home. It appears that a day of sunny 70 degrees, a beer, and a shrimp fajita with 3 nephews will make Bev groggy. So I did not get to finish on the way home. What started out as tome to fall, was obliterated by a fantastic day. I love college. I want to go back. It started on the way into the stadium and a 20 something had purchased a foam boilermaker special hat. It is much classier than the lowbrow foam cheese head hat. My fashion sense was confirmed by a 6 year old boy who stopped following his dad, who was loaded down with a nacho, coke, and wooden train whistle. This boy was transfixed by the sight of a pound of injected molded foam black rubber painted with gold highlights. He kept moving closer and closer; wanting to ask; needing to know where to find get one. Then quietly at first with firmer projection each time repeated, "Jason, Jaason, JAyson," his father called and slowly, gently the spell was broken. Attention shifting, shifting, finally breaking and poof, looking around. Where am I? More importantly, where is dad? Ah, there he is and off he goes but one last look back at that hat.

Then there was the kit helicopter that was buzzing the stadium early on. It was way too close for my conspiratorial theorist mind. Which as Bev pointed out, if it wasn't that, it would be something else. She is so right about that. But even she got nervous when the light breeze caused it to shift around like a ufo in a 1950's sci-fi film. These terrifying possibilities were quickly obliterated with Purdue's first first-down. The student sections starts pointing north, the band starts to play and the student voices all raise in 1, 2, 3, 4, first down bmumble mumble.  All of the alumni around us start asking, "what was that? what did they say?" I was prepared because the last time I had attended a game 3 years ago I heard the mumble and went down to inspect it at a closer range.  It really isn't a mumble. It is just unexpected. We old folks couldn't believe our ears. But at closer range, the enunciation is undeniable. I am so proud of those college students. Sure it is profane, rude, uncultured, but they are dedicated. From the first series to  a meaningless first down late in the 4th quarter when most of the stands had cleared there it was 1, 2, 3, 4, first down b****. Now that is dedication to being a smartaleck. I can respect that. I love college.

As half time approached, hydration became a significant concern. This is the point where I miss the kids most. Bev and I had nearly resigned ourselves to the main drawback of empty nest. We have had to make accomodations since both of the kids are gone. I have bought a dorm fridge to set between the lazy boys in the living room. I have the kids stock it when they come home about once a month and that helps. I have velcroed the remote and cordless phone each to a leg on my pants. But nearing halftime, with a hydration crisis at hand, I was resigned to hauling myself down to the concession stand  for a cold one. And suddenly my sister came to the rescue. "The boys are going down to get drinks. What would you like?" We are thinking about renting the nephews a month at a time. Sure enough 10 minutes later, here came my 32 ounces of $7 goodness. $7 what? Wow. But then I drank and found out why it cost so much. I believe that Pepsi was 40% wetter than any of $5 drinks that had 3 years ago. An a $1 McDonald's drink is down right arid.

Of course, it wasn't all fun and games. There were down turns. In the second quarter, the Purdue kicker missed an 18 yard field goal attempt. I could have hit that kick. I pointed it out to everyone around me and was so inspired that at half time went down the locker room and offered my 4 years of eligibility anytime the team need an 18 yard field goal kicked from the right hash mark. I thought that I would be perfect since you almost never have to kick an 18 yard field goal and I love college.

Sadly, the low point of the day was at the bookstore later. We were there to buy souvenirs. That was until I saw a shirt that shook me to my soul.  There it was an $18 T-shirt hanging from a black plastic hanger. Mocking me. Causing me to throw up shouts of anguish. Those cursed words "Purdue Dad" mocking me. Oh how I hate those Hoosiers, and Cardinals, enticing my beautiful children away from the promised land. Trust me. My tears were bitter.

But . . . not so bitter though that a victory, family and friends couldn't make it all better.

Take care

Roger

The snack that smiles back?

“OPTIMISM . . .  is a skill children can learn and leads to greater happiness and resilience.”  -- Dr. Karen Reivich

I found this bit of wisdom on the outside of a 3 ½ lbs box of Goldfish and immediately felt a flush of excitement. I felt optimistic that I could consume this 3.5 lbs with 0 grams of trans fat.  I probably shouldn’t cross my unit references.  Fortunately, I can do the conversion in my head. 0 grams trans fat is 0 lb trans fat.

After several handfuls of munching on those cute little golden crackers baked with real cheese and according to the ingredient list made with smiles, I got to thinking. Optimism is a skill????? Well I have a bone to pick with my counselor. “Identifying feeelings is hard work. You just have to get in there and wrestle with them. They won’t crush you they are just feeeeelings. They aren’t good or bad. They are just feeeeeeeelings.” I thought optimism was a feeling. I never used it with  the counselor, but was, and am sure that optimism is a feeling. It would have produced a nod from the counselor on a Thursday night. Now, I question. Optimism A Skill? Feelings aren’t something felt they are learned and mastered? I want my money back.

I looked up Goldfish on the web because I thought that this free bit of wisdom from a highly paid psychological professional might be part of an advertising campaign. That’s right. After reading the local newspaper, I thought there might be a catch. In this case, I  found that just because there is a catch doesn’t mean that it is bad.

Dr. Reivich sells skill development for children. Specifically, she sells skills that will help children become more resilient.  Optimism is one of the feelings that can support resilience.

Food and feelings, Feelings and Food. It seems that there is a market segment to be explored.  I have no ability or knowledge, or expertise to be even remotely qualified  to comment about all of the connections being made by Pepperidge Farm and by extension Campbell Soup, the owner of Pepperidge Farm,  (Mmmm, Mmmm, Good). I have no sermon here only confession. I am part of that segment. Eating 3.5 lbs of goldfish and glad that someone knows how I strengthen my resilience in those handfuls speaks to my prehistoric brain.

I do want to find resilience without covering the fragility with those cute, yellow, cheddary, smile-filled crackers. So many of us do. And all of us want those we love to escape that struggle. If your path leads through fishfulthinking.com to learn optimism, I am happy for you. If you path leads you to feelings are feelings, and they all can provide a framework for resilience, I am happy for you too. Or if your path leads you through Costco where they carry that handy 3.5 lbs (0 lbs trans fat) size of Goldfish, I’m really happy especially if you share.

Food and Feelings, Feelings and Food,

Take Care

"Gaining" Insight

Racy

Oh you have been on my mind since the last blog. I have been fretting that I had piqued your interest in the motivational messages that will be in Conseco field house later this month. Having that interest level raised, I was sure that you would get some friends together, fork over the $9.95, and the expose yourself to those investment opportunities.

Don't get me wrong. If your motivational levels are low and want to listen to investment opportunities by all means go. But if you are suddenly interested and want to be motivated sans advertising, I have been working hard for you. I have sent out all of my spies to bring back the messages from the 9 great speakers. So over the next few blogs, I will be bringing you their uplifting and inspirational comments. Hopefully without redundancy.

Now it is too early for my spies to have returned with these inspiring manuscripts. But I am undaunted. Isn't that why you trust me with your blogging needs? I go the extra mile. To that end, I read up on channeling other people. I went to the website for the national association of channeling honorable omens. Www.nacho.com. I was very disappointed to find out that you can only channel the departed unless you have a great deal in common with the channeled.

What do I have in common with the uber-motivational? I did not know. So I studied the list, Colin Powell, Laura Bush, Terry Bradshaw, Joe Montana, Robert Schuler, Rudy Guliane, Danica Patrick, Steve Forbes, and Zig Zigler. I have been  researching these people all afternoon long. Finally, I used the channeling apt from NACHO and I must say I was suprised at their match until I saw the photographic evidence.

See for yourself;

http://www.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://www.dancewithshadows.com/tech/wp-content/uploads/2009/02/danica-patrick-4.jpg&imgrefurl=http://www.dancewithshadows.com/tech/danica-patricks-superbowl-enhancement-ad-is-most-watched/&h=500&w=400&sz=56&tbnid=kXfheYfKXPyqOM:&tbnh=130&tbnw=104&prev=/images%3Fq%3Ddanica%2Bpatrick&zoom=1&q=danica+patrick&usg=__FmPL-2ZPUiDyAfafIuM6DmUFbG4=&sa=X&ei=YJinTKLgI4Kdlgfj4dioDg&ved=0CDkQ9QEwBA




Yep! it appears that we have the same plumber's crack.  Who knew?

And this is what Danica has to say to motivate you. "You have to respect yourself if want others to respect you."

You go gurl!

Take care

Roger