I am a hippie. I don't apologize for that fact. Today is my 61st birthday. Forty years ago, I had the chance to be at Max Yazgur's farm in upstate NY. David Nonnemaker, one of my roommates at the house on North West St., had heard about the concert and wanted me to go with him. We would hitchhike. It had been a little more than a month since we had returned from the Atlanta Pops festival. I had two jobs and, much to my chagrin, decided not to go. The trip would have probably taken four or five days each way, depending on how long it took us to catch rides. I would have been gone for two weeks or more. I needed money. In retrospect, it was a good decision. Atlanta was much closer and the Pops Festival had been over the July 4th holiday.
I wish I had been there to witness and partake in the happening. People were there from Thursday through Monday. No fights. People sharing everything they had with total strangers. The citizens of Bethel feeding the concert attendees and telling the national news outlets how well-behaved the hippies were throughout the weekend. This is the "hippiedom" to which I ascribe. Not the crap that emanated from San Francisco during the "Summer of Love". Those 10,000 were mostly Manson (Charlie not Marilyn). They were street people, much as you would find in any large city today. Unwashed. Thieving. Belligerent. Confrontational. NOT hippies. They were more like a mob of freeloaders who converged on the Haight-Ashbury neighborhood and became freeloaders.
A true hippie is one who practices ideals. Look for the best in everyone. Help those in need. Make love; not war. It's not about a style of dress, although I still love the tie-died T-shirts, no underwear, no socks, shorts and my long hair. Buffett and his parrotheads are hippies. You don't have to be poor. You don't have to give away all your possessions or wealth. You do need to take a shower at least once a day! And don't be a poseur. Like Abbie Hoffman. The way Pete Townshend bitch-slapped Hoffman around on the stage at Woodstock is a thing of beauty. I just wish someone had film. And, in that vein: Does anyone even remember John Sinclair? Not many folks. But most remember Pete threatening Abbie Hoffman (and EVERYONE at the festival) with a sound thrashing if they interrupted The Who again. Still hilarious stuff.
Hippies are misunderstood. Those who flaunt their hippiness are similar to flaming queen gays. One of the tenets of being a hippie is doing good deeds without any fanfare or expectation of any reward. We work every day. We pay our taxes and raise our children. Many of us are conservative. Some even go to church. We laugh at the derisive attitude that many people take of us. We were the campus rebels who sat in with our friends from Jackson State on the day after the Gibbs and Green shootings. We were peaceful. But we were upset and angry. Only ten days prior to these shootings, the Kent State massacre took place. Yes, we were naive. We wanted to change the world. Our black friends at Millsaps were headed to Lynch St. to meet with their friends. Some of us were asked to accompany them because they felt that some white kids in the mix might cause the Jackson police and Mississippi National Guard to act in a restrained manner. Some of us were Lynch St. regulars because of the Paradise Club and Percy, the proprietor. We used to go there on Sundays because you could sit and watch a football game and drink beer. You could not do that in the white neighborhoods. Our sit-in had no purpose other than to show the world that we cared. We were still pretty raw from Kent State. To this day, I am still terribly bothered by Kent State.
We protested the war. But, when it was our time to go, most of us went. I did. I was married, a father, and a college graduate. But I served my time honorably. We were also more rounded than our parents. I was an athlete and a thespian and a hippie. I saw no contradiction. I still don't. I'm still a hippie and I will be until I die. I am an organ donor. I was a bone marrow donor volunteer until age 55, when I was drummed out of the program due to my age. I gave blood. Upon my death, I have donated my body to UMC. I pay my bills. I am fiscally conservative. I don't believe in Iraq and Afghanistan, just like I did not believe in Vietnam. But I support every one of our troops with no hesitation. We need to keep our money at home and let these religious factions fight it out with each other, just as they have been doing for a few thousand years. I don't believe in god or religion, but I'm not bothered by those who promulgate on TV and radio.
I am terrified by Obama and Pelosi and what they can do to our country. But I support human rights. I don't care if some guy wants to parade around town with a blow-up alligator impaled on his tallywacker. He's not hurting me. I don't like radicals of any style. I quit watching and listening to idiots like Limbaugh and Olbermann and O'Reilly and Coulter. They raise my blood pressure.
I fish and hunt, but wish Vick had been put in a ring with a dozen of his own pit bulls, after he had been drenched in fresh blood. I play golf but don't like watching it on TV because it's so boring to watch. I can't stand opera, but I love most types of rock, soul and reggae. I raise some of my own vegetables, but am not adverse to consuming something that is not "free-range" or "all natural" or "heart healthy". I don't believe in global warming...or Al Gore!
In summation, being a hippie is a good thing. It's a lifestyle that can't be defined, but you know it when you meet one of us. And, chances are, you won't know it when you DO meet one of us. That's the way we like it.
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Friday, July 3, 2009
My Personal Litmus Test
The title link takes you to a You Tube video capturing one of the most powerful lines in John Grisham's "A Time To Kill". Jake Brigance's closing argument. It ends with: "Can you see her? Her raped, beaten, broken body, soaked in their urine, soaked in their semen, soaked in her blood -- left to die. Can you see her? I want you to picture that little girl. Now imagine she's white." Powerful. Compelling. A major eye-opener. It will bring tears to the eyes of grown men. It sent shivers up my spine when I read it. I stopped reading and gasped. Then I reread the line. DAMN! All I could think about was - what if someone did this to one of my children? Then I delved deeper into what I thought Grisham meant.
There are certain watermarks in the life of every person. I remember the approximate time of day and in which chair I was sitting when I read the line. It haunted me for days. Then I began to explore it. That's when I discovered I could use the line as a litmus test for fairness and equity. Grisham totally reversed the mood in the courtroom. He altered perception and reality for all who heard Jake Brigance speak the words. "Now imagine she's white." Polar opposites. Black and White. Suddenly everyone was given a new perspective from which to view the facts. I like that. That is powerful. It's also defusing. It seems to return the Ph to neutral. It makes one do a 180. OK. Ah, yes. Now, I see.
I recently used it in the context of the Justice Department Civil Rights Divison's investigation of Ike Brown and his ne'er-do-wells in Noxubee county. If this had been, as I admit it has been in the past, Caucasians disenfranchising blacks, Uncle would have stepped in and conducted a thorough investigation. OK. This one passes the litmus test. What's good for one group is good for the other.
Would Sonia Sotomayor's "Latina woman" remark, if uttered by a white or black judge to espouse some intangible insight inherent in a specific racial group, have caused an immediate loss of presidential support? Duh? Of course!
What is the purpose of the organization RBI (Reviving Baseball in Inner Cities) is a program designed to encourage minority children to play baseball. It is sponsored by Major League Baseball. OK. MLB is currently approximately 60% White, 29% Hispanic, 8% Black, and 3% Asian . The U.S. Census Bureau estimates that 2008 numbers show the population is: 80% White, 15.1% Hispanic, 12.8% Black and 4.4% Asian. Seems like we might have to start RBS (Reviving Baseball in the Suburbs) or RBC (Reviving Baseball in Chinatown) too. And maybe the NBA, MLS and NFL need to step up. Way too many blacks and too few whites, Hispanics and Asians. Is RBI another Jackson/Sharpton blackmail (no pun intended) job? (And, by the way, the Duke lacrosse team is still waiting for your apology.)
I'm proud of my litmus test. You can use it in various ways. When you hear or read something that makes you think, just replace certain key words with polar opposites and see if you still feel as you initially felt. Try it.
There are certain watermarks in the life of every person. I remember the approximate time of day and in which chair I was sitting when I read the line. It haunted me for days. Then I began to explore it. That's when I discovered I could use the line as a litmus test for fairness and equity. Grisham totally reversed the mood in the courtroom. He altered perception and reality for all who heard Jake Brigance speak the words. "Now imagine she's white." Polar opposites. Black and White. Suddenly everyone was given a new perspective from which to view the facts. I like that. That is powerful. It's also defusing. It seems to return the Ph to neutral. It makes one do a 180. OK. Ah, yes. Now, I see.
I recently used it in the context of the Justice Department Civil Rights Divison's investigation of Ike Brown and his ne'er-do-wells in Noxubee county. If this had been, as I admit it has been in the past, Caucasians disenfranchising blacks, Uncle would have stepped in and conducted a thorough investigation. OK. This one passes the litmus test. What's good for one group is good for the other.
Would Sonia Sotomayor's "Latina woman" remark, if uttered by a white or black judge to espouse some intangible insight inherent in a specific racial group, have caused an immediate loss of presidential support? Duh? Of course!
What is the purpose of the organization RBI (Reviving Baseball in Inner Cities) is a program designed to encourage minority children to play baseball. It is sponsored by Major League Baseball. OK. MLB is currently approximately 60% White, 29% Hispanic, 8% Black, and 3% Asian . The U.S. Census Bureau estimates that 2008 numbers show the population is: 80% White, 15.1% Hispanic, 12.8% Black and 4.4% Asian. Seems like we might have to start RBS (Reviving Baseball in the Suburbs) or RBC (Reviving Baseball in Chinatown) too. And maybe the NBA, MLS and NFL need to step up. Way too many blacks and too few whites, Hispanics and Asians. Is RBI another Jackson/Sharpton blackmail (no pun intended) job? (And, by the way, the Duke lacrosse team is still waiting for your apology.)
I'm proud of my litmus test. You can use it in various ways. When you hear or read something that makes you think, just replace certain key words with polar opposites and see if you still feel as you initially felt. Try it.
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Some Deaths Aren't Worth Mourning
As if the news about an HBO special on Terrible Teddy was not enough to ruin a good year, now I have to endure all this gushing and crying because a damned pedophile has died. People??? What the hell are you thinking? The real world will miss Jerko about as much as it misses Ted Bundy or any number of Catholic priests. The guy was a race and gender confused pedophile. What's to miss? I believe that all energy was created at the time of the "Big Bang" and, according to the first law of thermodynamics, energy cannot be created or destroyed. But, energy can change form. Therefore, I can hope that whatever reincarnation of Jerko occurs, it is an infinite improvement on the original. Hell, it HAS to be an improvement!!
This waste of chromosomal comingling spent the majority of his life living as he desired, thumbing his oh so pretty nose at the law and morals and never facing the dire consequences of his actions that would have landed a common "person" (I was unsure if the use of the word "man" was appropriate in this context) in jail. He was able to buy his way out of trouble time and time again. Hum...sound a lot like Terrible Teddy and the rest of his clan.
Jacko-ff's death made the front page of the Jackson Clarion Ledger. The deaths of Farrah Fawcett and Ed McMahon were relegated to second citizen status in the same newspaper. As far as I can remember, neither of these people had ever been accused of doing anything to hurt an innocent child. Leading a good life must be its own reward.
If you have not done so, read my earlier post on Terrible Teddy. I include references to bolster my position that this man has spent his life doing harm to the innocents and that he should die a painful death. Had he ever, EVER expressed any remorse for his cowardly behavior, I might be inclined to cut him some slack. But, he's a Kennedy; they don't apologize. And now Hollywierd is going to pay tribute to him. I'll be Whoopi and Basinger and The Brothers Baldwin and Cage, etc. will all be there to kiss his massive ass, either figuratively or literally. The Wicked Witch of the West (West? Like Hollywierd?) was right - "What a world; what a world." In retrospect, maybe part of that speech is what Jacko-ff uttered as his life flashed before his pointy nose - "I'm melting!"
This waste of chromosomal comingling spent the majority of his life living as he desired, thumbing his oh so pretty nose at the law and morals and never facing the dire consequences of his actions that would have landed a common "person" (I was unsure if the use of the word "man" was appropriate in this context) in jail. He was able to buy his way out of trouble time and time again. Hum...sound a lot like Terrible Teddy and the rest of his clan.
Jacko-ff's death made the front page of the Jackson Clarion Ledger. The deaths of Farrah Fawcett and Ed McMahon were relegated to second citizen status in the same newspaper. As far as I can remember, neither of these people had ever been accused of doing anything to hurt an innocent child. Leading a good life must be its own reward.
If you have not done so, read my earlier post on Terrible Teddy. I include references to bolster my position that this man has spent his life doing harm to the innocents and that he should die a painful death. Had he ever, EVER expressed any remorse for his cowardly behavior, I might be inclined to cut him some slack. But, he's a Kennedy; they don't apologize. And now Hollywierd is going to pay tribute to him. I'll be Whoopi and Basinger and The Brothers Baldwin and Cage, etc. will all be there to kiss his massive ass, either figuratively or literally. The Wicked Witch of the West (West? Like Hollywierd?) was right - "What a world; what a world." In retrospect, maybe part of that speech is what Jacko-ff uttered as his life flashed before his pointy nose - "I'm melting!"
Saturday, May 23, 2009
My ADD in action
Sometimes, I just have to laugh at myself. At other times, I talk to myself, but that's another subject. The following episode happened a short while ago.
First, let me apologize to my sons if I have passed down any of my ADD characteristics to them. I don't think so because all three of them seem to be stable, level-headed, clear-thinking men. Me, on the other hand...
It all started with a trip to the kitchen to get a piece of gum. Simple enough endeavor, you assume. That's how it usually starts. Innocently. Anyway, while perusing the flavors of gum available to me, I noticed a "rug stopper" on the kitchen island. A "rug stopper" is one of those tacky (sticky - not ugly tacky) that you put under a throw rug to keep them from sliding around. I remembered that I needed to install the rug stopper. I forget about the gum.
I go back to the living room and lift one corner of the rug. I notice dust and dirt under it. I go to the staircase leading down to my shop/garage/laundry room and get my broom and dustpan.
I sweep from under the rug. I notice that the kitchen and breakfast area both could use a sweeping, so I sweep them, too.
When dumping my dustpan into the trash, I notice an empty box of Ritz crackers. That reminds me to add Ritz to the grocery list.
Adding Ritz to the list reminds me that I need to stir the grilled chicken pasta salad that I had made earlier today. (When I eat the salad, I plan to eat some Ritz with it. So there is SOME order to my madness.) I take the pasta salad from the fridge and stir it. I turn around and try to remember what I was doing before stirring the pasta salad. Oh, yes. The rug stopper.
But, wait a minute. The floors look nice and clean; don't they? I figure that, as long as the floors are freshly swept, I may as wall Swiffer mop them. Back to the staircase to get my Swiffer mop.
I keep a pair of flip-flops by the staircase. I use them if I'm going outside for a minute. I notice that I have tracked in some dirt on them so I get the broom again and sweep the threshold. I figure as long as I'm sweeping the threshold, why not sweep the entire stairway leading down to the garage/laundry room/shop. So I do.
Now I stop for a second to assess my situation. Why am I sweeping the stairwell? Oh, yeah! I need to install the rug stopper. Back to the living room.
I move a recliner to free the other corner of the rug. There is dirt under the recliner. Back to the broom and dustpan. I then figure I may as well sweep under the other recliner, too. I do so.
Now I install the rug stopper, reposition the rug and recliners and walk to the kitchen, being careful not to step on the freshly-mopped floor, I walk on the runners down the hallway.
Then, the absurdity of it all hits me. I laugh and ask myself what the hell I was thinking? I have jumped from one task to another to another, all while watching and listening to an SEC baseball tournament game on the TV, and I still don't have a piece of gum. Since the floor was still wet, I decided to send this email to my family and friends. Maybe they understand why I'm like I am!!
First, let me apologize to my sons if I have passed down any of my ADD characteristics to them. I don't think so because all three of them seem to be stable, level-headed, clear-thinking men. Me, on the other hand...
It all started with a trip to the kitchen to get a piece of gum. Simple enough endeavor, you assume. That's how it usually starts. Innocently. Anyway, while perusing the flavors of gum available to me, I noticed a "rug stopper" on the kitchen island. A "rug stopper" is one of those tacky (sticky - not ugly tacky) that you put under a throw rug to keep them from sliding around. I remembered that I needed to install the rug stopper. I forget about the gum.
I go back to the living room and lift one corner of the rug. I notice dust and dirt under it. I go to the staircase leading down to my shop/garage/laundry room and get my broom and dustpan.
I sweep from under the rug. I notice that the kitchen and breakfast area both could use a sweeping, so I sweep them, too.
When dumping my dustpan into the trash, I notice an empty box of Ritz crackers. That reminds me to add Ritz to the grocery list.
Adding Ritz to the list reminds me that I need to stir the grilled chicken pasta salad that I had made earlier today. (When I eat the salad, I plan to eat some Ritz with it. So there is SOME order to my madness.) I take the pasta salad from the fridge and stir it. I turn around and try to remember what I was doing before stirring the pasta salad. Oh, yes. The rug stopper.
But, wait a minute. The floors look nice and clean; don't they? I figure that, as long as the floors are freshly swept, I may as wall Swiffer mop them. Back to the staircase to get my Swiffer mop.
I keep a pair of flip-flops by the staircase. I use them if I'm going outside for a minute. I notice that I have tracked in some dirt on them so I get the broom again and sweep the threshold. I figure as long as I'm sweeping the threshold, why not sweep the entire stairway leading down to the garage/laundry room/shop. So I do.
Now I stop for a second to assess my situation. Why am I sweeping the stairwell? Oh, yeah! I need to install the rug stopper. Back to the living room.
I move a recliner to free the other corner of the rug. There is dirt under the recliner. Back to the broom and dustpan. I then figure I may as well sweep under the other recliner, too. I do so.
Now I install the rug stopper, reposition the rug and recliners and walk to the kitchen, being careful not to step on the freshly-mopped floor, I walk on the runners down the hallway.
Then, the absurdity of it all hits me. I laugh and ask myself what the hell I was thinking? I have jumped from one task to another to another, all while watching and listening to an SEC baseball tournament game on the TV, and I still don't have a piece of gum. Since the floor was still wet, I decided to send this email to my family and friends. Maybe they understand why I'm like I am!!
Friday, April 10, 2009
Just some general "stuff"
Yesterday I watched a Tom Brokaw documentary on The History Channel titled "1968". It got me thinking. I was born at a really good time in history. I listen to the lyrics to Jackson Browne's "Running on Empty" and see that we are the same age. One (is that all??) major difference is that he shared the sack with Daryl Hannah. Lucky S.O.B.
Back to the initial thought. In 12/68, Apollo 8 became the first spacecraft to take humans to the moon and safely back to earth. Jim Lovell, Frank Borman and William Anders took the Christmas trip. Now get this. (I get chills just thinking of the magnitued of the event.) They were the first humans to ever see the earth "rise". As they circled the moon, the earth rose on the moon's horizon. Billions of people have lived and died during the history of the earth and they were to first three to see this event. The following summer (7/20/69), I watched TV as Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldren from Apollo 11 walked on the moon. Less than a month later, I blew off a trip to upstate New York with a friend from New Jersy. It would have taken us three days to drive that far. Atlanta only took about 10 hours and we had been there over the 7/4 holiday to catch the Atlanta Pops Festival. Some really good photo coverage of the bands (including a very young Led Zeppelin!) and the 200,000 folks who attended. Too soon to hit the road again. Life is full of missed opportunities...
Wuzzup with some of these Hollywood "actors"? The clown from CSI Miami, David Caruso, leaves Hill St. Blues to pursue feature films. Yeah. Hey, Davey! How did that work out? Now his ass surfaces on TV with his faggy little sunglass drop and head tilt ad nauseum!! If this guy is an actor, I'm Barack's first cousin! He is one of the few people who can make me skip watching a TV show because he screws up everything on the show - with his mere presence!! Unfortunately, CSI Miami is not enough of an ensemble show to make up for his presence.
And what about Ice-T or Ice Cube or Black Ice or whatever the guy's name is that plays a Polynesian detective on Law & Order SVU? (At least L&O IS an ensemble show so he appears much less than little Davey.) This guy could be reading the Starkville phone book or reciting lines from King Lear or ordering ham hocks and turnip greens at the KKK Kafe and the delivery would be THE SAME!! He thinks he's some kind of a cross between Huey P. Newton and Farrakahn and that people actually buy into that "all black guys are real bad-asses" crap!! You could shoot this guy in the 'nads with a nail gun and the response would be the same as if he were delivering a line to Capt. Kragen!! And while we're on the subject of stereotypes, any male who has ever played sports and showered with his teammates can tell you that there is another myth about black men that is total crap! Oh, yeah...some white people CAN dance!!
Now let's talk about Ghost Hunters. Whether generic or "International". Have these hunters actually ever, EVER found anything? What a bunch of Geraldoesque losers!
While we're on the subject of TV, what kind of people actually watch and enjoy a bunch of fat people stabbing each other in the back and crying while they make excuse after excuse? Yes, I did some research. I watched it for about ten minutes once. That was enough for me!
Well...I feel better; how about you?
Back to the initial thought. In 12/68, Apollo 8 became the first spacecraft to take humans to the moon and safely back to earth. Jim Lovell, Frank Borman and William Anders took the Christmas trip. Now get this. (I get chills just thinking of the magnitued of the event.) They were the first humans to ever see the earth "rise". As they circled the moon, the earth rose on the moon's horizon. Billions of people have lived and died during the history of the earth and they were to first three to see this event. The following summer (7/20/69), I watched TV as Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldren from Apollo 11 walked on the moon. Less than a month later, I blew off a trip to upstate New York with a friend from New Jersy. It would have taken us three days to drive that far. Atlanta only took about 10 hours and we had been there over the 7/4 holiday to catch the Atlanta Pops Festival. Some really good photo coverage of the bands (including a very young Led Zeppelin!) and the 200,000 folks who attended. Too soon to hit the road again. Life is full of missed opportunities...
Wuzzup with some of these Hollywood "actors"? The clown from CSI Miami, David Caruso, leaves Hill St. Blues to pursue feature films. Yeah. Hey, Davey! How did that work out? Now his ass surfaces on TV with his faggy little sunglass drop and head tilt ad nauseum!! If this guy is an actor, I'm Barack's first cousin! He is one of the few people who can make me skip watching a TV show because he screws up everything on the show - with his mere presence!! Unfortunately, CSI Miami is not enough of an ensemble show to make up for his presence.
And what about Ice-T or Ice Cube or Black Ice or whatever the guy's name is that plays a Polynesian detective on Law & Order SVU? (At least L&O IS an ensemble show so he appears much less than little Davey.) This guy could be reading the Starkville phone book or reciting lines from King Lear or ordering ham hocks and turnip greens at the KKK Kafe and the delivery would be THE SAME!! He thinks he's some kind of a cross between Huey P. Newton and Farrakahn and that people actually buy into that "all black guys are real bad-asses" crap!! You could shoot this guy in the 'nads with a nail gun and the response would be the same as if he were delivering a line to Capt. Kragen!! And while we're on the subject of stereotypes, any male who has ever played sports and showered with his teammates can tell you that there is another myth about black men that is total crap! Oh, yeah...some white people CAN dance!!
Now let's talk about Ghost Hunters. Whether generic or "International". Have these hunters actually ever, EVER found anything? What a bunch of Geraldoesque losers!
While we're on the subject of TV, what kind of people actually watch and enjoy a bunch of fat people stabbing each other in the back and crying while they make excuse after excuse? Yes, I did some research. I watched it for about ten minutes once. That was enough for me!
Well...I feel better; how about you?
Saturday, March 7, 2009
Taking Chance
"I didn’t know Chance Phelps before he died,” Strobl wrote, according to the news release. “But today, I miss him.”
The final line from an excellent movie. I just watched it this morning. Found it on HBO by accident. Started watching it and could not stop. If you have ever lost a relative, friend, classmate or fellow soldier, it will tear you apart. But it is worth the mental trauma.
Based on real-life events, Lt. Col. Michael Strobl (Kevin Bacon), a volunteer military escort officer, accompanies the body of 19-year-old Marine Chance Phelps back to his hometown of Dubois, Wyoming. Karma created the detail. Strobl thought that Chance was from HIS hometown in Colorado, but that was just where he enlisted. The technical details are interesting. The film shows the handling of the deceased remains from the time he fell until his final internment. The actions of those who Strobl met along the way and when he arrived in Dubois are what make the movie. Americans showing honor to a 19-year-old kid that they never met. Treating him like the hero that he was.
I spent a lot of time thinking of The Nose and Niv and Greenie and Tuna and all the others that I knew and with whom I served that also did not make it back. This blog entry is purely cathartic. In retrospect, I guess they all are, but this one more so. I needed to get this out of my mind. Maybe the blogging will help.
During the Vietnam era, soldiers were not held in such high esteem. Those who had to use civilian airports were called "baby killers" and had blood thrown on them. Even in military towns, it was not a good idea to wear any part of your uniform off base. We were unpopular because the war was unpopular. We were serving because it was our duty. We didn't want to be there. This was prior to the "all-volunteer" service.
I think the treatment of the Vietman-era soldiers is a direct cause of the patriotism shown today's Iraq/Afghanistan veterans. We know what it was like to be lepers; we don't want today's soldiers to suffer the same stigma. We're proud of them and we want them to know it. This one-minute commercial (with no dialogue) says it all.
I can't find the genesis of the saying so I'm entering it without credit: "Old men start wars. Young men fight them. Wise men avoid them." Having served, I am very much anti-war. Hell, I was anti-war before I got drafted and the entire time I served. But, I did serve. Not like the chicken shit Cassius Clay (His Momma named him Cassius Clay! If it be's good enough for his Momma; it be's good enough for me.!) who used some bullshit religious objection stay out of the service and still earn his living. And, now the gutless piece of shit is some kind of American hero! Bullshit on chicken shit!!
Sorry. I digressed. I am totally against all war, unless it involves someone invading our shores. That is NOT to say that I don't support our troops. I do. They are giving up everything to fight in a useless, no-win war. A year after we leave Iraq (if that long) the country will be back to it's civil war state with each of the three sects fighting against each other. We would have accomplished squadoosh! Good men and women would have died. Unnecessarily.
The final line from an excellent movie. I just watched it this morning. Found it on HBO by accident. Started watching it and could not stop. If you have ever lost a relative, friend, classmate or fellow soldier, it will tear you apart. But it is worth the mental trauma.
Based on real-life events, Lt. Col. Michael Strobl (Kevin Bacon), a volunteer military escort officer, accompanies the body of 19-year-old Marine Chance Phelps back to his hometown of Dubois, Wyoming. Karma created the detail. Strobl thought that Chance was from HIS hometown in Colorado, but that was just where he enlisted. The technical details are interesting. The film shows the handling of the deceased remains from the time he fell until his final internment. The actions of those who Strobl met along the way and when he arrived in Dubois are what make the movie. Americans showing honor to a 19-year-old kid that they never met. Treating him like the hero that he was.
I spent a lot of time thinking of The Nose and Niv and Greenie and Tuna and all the others that I knew and with whom I served that also did not make it back. This blog entry is purely cathartic. In retrospect, I guess they all are, but this one more so. I needed to get this out of my mind. Maybe the blogging will help.
During the Vietnam era, soldiers were not held in such high esteem. Those who had to use civilian airports were called "baby killers" and had blood thrown on them. Even in military towns, it was not a good idea to wear any part of your uniform off base. We were unpopular because the war was unpopular. We were serving because it was our duty. We didn't want to be there. This was prior to the "all-volunteer" service.
I think the treatment of the Vietman-era soldiers is a direct cause of the patriotism shown today's Iraq/Afghanistan veterans. We know what it was like to be lepers; we don't want today's soldiers to suffer the same stigma. We're proud of them and we want them to know it. This one-minute commercial (with no dialogue) says it all.
I can't find the genesis of the saying so I'm entering it without credit: "Old men start wars. Young men fight them. Wise men avoid them." Having served, I am very much anti-war. Hell, I was anti-war before I got drafted and the entire time I served. But, I did serve. Not like the chicken shit Cassius Clay (His Momma named him Cassius Clay! If it be's good enough for his Momma; it be's good enough for me.!) who used some bullshit religious objection stay out of the service and still earn his living. And, now the gutless piece of shit is some kind of American hero! Bullshit on chicken shit!!
Sorry. I digressed. I am totally against all war, unless it involves someone invading our shores. That is NOT to say that I don't support our troops. I do. They are giving up everything to fight in a useless, no-win war. A year after we leave Iraq (if that long) the country will be back to it's civil war state with each of the three sects fighting against each other. We would have accomplished squadoosh! Good men and women would have died. Unnecessarily.
Sunday, February 22, 2009
The Rapist and The Death Grip
Click on the tirle to get some audio. I love it!
This is an account of a 1993 incident during which 81 year-old (the article says she was "middle aged"!)
Curtescine Lloyd of Edwards, Ms handled an attempted rape in a rather unusual fashion. You Go, Girl!!
This account was transcribled from radio station KGO, Newstalk radio 810. Enjoy...and laugh your ass off as you picture Granny Curtescine in action!!!
"Poetic Justice (Granny Gets Her Gun)Curtescine Lloyd? You never heard of her? Well, she is my choice as one of the most amazing and heroic women of our times.
Ms. Lloyd is a middle-aged nurse who lives with an elderly aunt in the rural hamlet of Edwards, Miss., near Jackson. This is her story, most of it taken from a court transcript.
One night, Ms. Lloyd was awakened by a sound. She thought it was h er aunt going to the bathroom.Suddenly a man stepped into her bedroom. Terrified, she sat up. He shoved her back down and said: "You better not turn on a light. You holler, you're dead. You better not even breathe loud.
"He declared his intentions. which were to rob her and commit sexual assault. Of course, he phrased it far more luridly.Then he took off most of his clothing and jumped into her bed.
Here is what happened next. according to court records:Ms. Lloyd: "I got it. I grabbed it by my right hand. And when I grabbed it, I gave it a yank. And when I yanked it, I twisted all at the same time."(Need I explain what Ms. Lloyd meant by "it"? I think not.)"He hit me with his right hand a hard blow to the head, and when he hit me, I grabbed hold of his scrotum with my left hand and twisted the opposite way. He started to yell and we fell to the floor and he hit me a couple of more licks, but they were light licks. He was weakening already.
"With Ms. Lloyd still hanging on with both hands, squeezing and twisting, they somehow struggled into the hallway."He was trying to get out, and I'm hanging onto him, and he was throwing me from one side of the hall to the other. I was afraid if I let go, he was going to kill me."So I was determined I was not going to turn loose. So we were going down the hallway failing from one side to the other, and we got into the living room and we both fell. He brought me down right in front of the couch and he leaned back against the couch, with me."He says. 'You 've got me, you've got me, please, you've got me.' I said. 'I know damn well I got you.' He said: 'Please, please, you re killing me. you're killing me. I can't do nothing. Call the police, call the police.'"I said. 'Do you think I'm stupid enough I'd turn you loose and call the police?' He said, 'Well, what am I gonna do" I said, 'You're gonna get the hell out of my house.' He said: 'How can I get out of your house if you won't let me go?' How can I get out?'"I said: 'Break out. Son of a bitch. You broke in didn't you? And I was still holding him."He said, 'Oh. you've got me suffering, lady, you've got me suffering.' I said, 'Have you thought about how you were going to have me suffering?' He said, 'Well, I can't do nothing now.' I said, 'Good.'
"Ms. Lloyd, still twisting and squeezing, dragged the lout to the front door, which had two locks, and told him to unbolt them.It was a difficult process because he kept collapsing to the floor and she kept hauling him back to his feet."When he finally unlocked the door, he screamed, 'I'm out, I'm out.'" But Ms. Lloyd, now confident that she had a full grasp of the situation. said: "No. I'm taking you to the end of the porch. And when I turn you loose. I'm going to get my gun and I'm going to blow your (obscenity) brains out, you nasty, stinking, low-down dirty piece of (obscenity)."And when I did that, I gave a twist, and I turned him loose. He fell off the steps, jumped up, and limped around the back of my aunt's car and started down the hill."And I ran into my aunt's room, got her pistol from the nightstand, ran back to the porch and I fired two shots down the hill the way I saw him go. Then I ran back in he house and dialed 911.
"The police came and examined the man's clothing. Inside the trousers was written the name Dwight Coverson. They found Coverson, 29, at home, in considerable pain and wondering if he could ever be a daddy.A one-day jury trial was held. As Coverson's court-appointed lawyer put it, "The jury was out 10 minutes."And the judge gave him 25 years in prison.The defense lawyer also said that Ms. Lloyd was recently on a local Mississippi TV news show and mentioned that she had been contacted about a possible movie of her story.That is a film I would pay to see."
This is an account of a 1993 incident during which 81 year-old (the article says she was "middle aged"!)
Curtescine Lloyd of Edwards, Ms handled an attempted rape in a rather unusual fashion. You Go, Girl!!
This account was transcribled from radio station KGO, Newstalk radio 810. Enjoy...and laugh your ass off as you picture Granny Curtescine in action!!!
"Poetic Justice (Granny Gets Her Gun)Curtescine Lloyd? You never heard of her? Well, she is my choice as one of the most amazing and heroic women of our times.
Ms. Lloyd is a middle-aged nurse who lives with an elderly aunt in the rural hamlet of Edwards, Miss., near Jackson. This is her story, most of it taken from a court transcript.
One night, Ms. Lloyd was awakened by a sound. She thought it was h er aunt going to the bathroom.Suddenly a man stepped into her bedroom. Terrified, she sat up. He shoved her back down and said: "You better not turn on a light. You holler, you're dead. You better not even breathe loud.
"He declared his intentions. which were to rob her and commit sexual assault. Of course, he phrased it far more luridly.Then he took off most of his clothing and jumped into her bed.
Here is what happened next. according to court records:Ms. Lloyd: "I got it. I grabbed it by my right hand. And when I grabbed it, I gave it a yank. And when I yanked it, I twisted all at the same time."(Need I explain what Ms. Lloyd meant by "it"? I think not.)"He hit me with his right hand a hard blow to the head, and when he hit me, I grabbed hold of his scrotum with my left hand and twisted the opposite way. He started to yell and we fell to the floor and he hit me a couple of more licks, but they were light licks. He was weakening already.
"With Ms. Lloyd still hanging on with both hands, squeezing and twisting, they somehow struggled into the hallway."He was trying to get out, and I'm hanging onto him, and he was throwing me from one side of the hall to the other. I was afraid if I let go, he was going to kill me."So I was determined I was not going to turn loose. So we were going down the hallway failing from one side to the other, and we got into the living room and we both fell. He brought me down right in front of the couch and he leaned back against the couch, with me."He says. 'You 've got me, you've got me, please, you've got me.' I said. 'I know damn well I got you.' He said: 'Please, please, you re killing me. you're killing me. I can't do nothing. Call the police, call the police.'"I said. 'Do you think I'm stupid enough I'd turn you loose and call the police?' He said, 'Well, what am I gonna do" I said, 'You're gonna get the hell out of my house.' He said: 'How can I get out of your house if you won't let me go?' How can I get out?'"I said: 'Break out. Son of a bitch. You broke in didn't you? And I was still holding him."He said, 'Oh. you've got me suffering, lady, you've got me suffering.' I said, 'Have you thought about how you were going to have me suffering?' He said, 'Well, I can't do nothing now.' I said, 'Good.'
"Ms. Lloyd, still twisting and squeezing, dragged the lout to the front door, which had two locks, and told him to unbolt them.It was a difficult process because he kept collapsing to the floor and she kept hauling him back to his feet."When he finally unlocked the door, he screamed, 'I'm out, I'm out.'" But Ms. Lloyd, now confident that she had a full grasp of the situation. said: "No. I'm taking you to the end of the porch. And when I turn you loose. I'm going to get my gun and I'm going to blow your (obscenity) brains out, you nasty, stinking, low-down dirty piece of (obscenity)."And when I did that, I gave a twist, and I turned him loose. He fell off the steps, jumped up, and limped around the back of my aunt's car and started down the hill."And I ran into my aunt's room, got her pistol from the nightstand, ran back to the porch and I fired two shots down the hill the way I saw him go. Then I ran back in he house and dialed 911.
"The police came and examined the man's clothing. Inside the trousers was written the name Dwight Coverson. They found Coverson, 29, at home, in considerable pain and wondering if he could ever be a daddy.A one-day jury trial was held. As Coverson's court-appointed lawyer put it, "The jury was out 10 minutes."And the judge gave him 25 years in prison.The defense lawyer also said that Ms. Lloyd was recently on a local Mississippi TV news show and mentioned that she had been contacted about a possible movie of her story.That is a film I would pay to see."
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