An Old Hot Topic

            A few years ago I was a part of a team that wrote opinion columns for one of the local newspapers. One of the columns they published dealt with gambling. This was 13 years ago or so, and today the debate is still going on. One of the things I question in the article is whether or not there is enough disposable income to make every casino as profitable as the one in Lawrenceburg, at that time the only casino in the area.

          I think the profit expectation and actuality from the Golden Horseshoe prove I was right. So, for today, out of the Archives:

          They say the streets of Lawrenceburg are paved with gold, gold that came from the casino. The Commonwealth of Kentucky says they want some of that gold, by adding slot machines to the horse racing tracks. I guess they want to redo I-75, and suddenly dislike concrete white.

          The problem is, money doesn’t come from the casinos. It does flow through them, but it comes from the little folks with big dreams. Dreams of playing an old Johnny Paycheck song in the limo on their last day of work. Dreams of a new house, a new car, a life where an alarm clock is only an unpleasant memory.

          The problem is, gambling is a risk. In order to win big, you need to risk big. Big is relative. If I’m earning $200 an hour, and I drop $80 in a slot machine, I don’t think I’ll miss my next house payment. If I earn $10 an hour, eighty bucks is a day’s pay, before taxes, and the Hotel Chevrolet may be my new address.

          The problem is, gambling, like a lot of other things, isn’t inherently evil, it’s the overindulgence that is the evil. For some folks, risking a dollar on a chance at the church raffle is overindulgence. For others, a week in Las Vegas isn’t.

Legalized gambling is a difficult issue for me. I firmly believe that each and every one of us has responsibility for themselves. If someone wants to risk their entire paycheck on a spin of the roulette wheel, that’s their prerogative. But if that individual has a wife and children at home, that paycheck doesn’t belong to them, not completely. That money has responsibilities: feeding, clothing and housing those dependant on its existence.

          Society needs to protect itself from the irresponsible, just as it needs to protect itself from the anti-social. When families that can’t afford to gamble do, its society that picks up the slack. Controlling the availability of gambling is one of the things society does to protect itself.

          Put another way, when a trip to Vegas costs five or six hundred dollars, before the gambling, usually it was the folks who could spend that kind cash who went to gamble. It was affordable fun, for them.

          When a trip to “The Boat” costs five bucks, the access to the risk becomes less of a barrier, and more people, whose families’ may not be able to afford the loss, are subjected to the risk. To me, that is not socially acceptable.

          The streets of casino towns are paved with gold, and the Commonwealth of Kentucky wants to do the same to Rabbit Hash. But can it?

          I don’t think so. One of the reasons the casino boats in Indiana have done so well is the novelty of the venue. With a new set of boats, or even slots at the racetracks, how much will it take to reach saturation? How close are we to that point now?

          One of the reasons Kentucky wants the casinos at the race tracks is the lack of gamblers in attendance since the casinos came along. Is it because the players would rather pull a handle than pick a pony? Or is it because there aren’t enough gamblers to go around? Or, more to the point, is there just not enough gambling cash to make the spread?

                    Like it or not, the money supply is fairly finite. (I’d be happier if it was finite, but that’s another column.) Money going to one source has to come from another. The gambler’s money going to casinos is coming from racetracks, at the very least.

Where else is this cash coming from? Out of town? Out of State? Out of the Country? Or is it coming out of savings accounts, 401(k) s, college funds and credit cards? How much of the future will we risk, just to avoid paying the piper today?

People who wish to gamble will do so. They will risk any money, anybody’s money, any chance they get. If the gambling is legal, and easily accessible, the harder it is to end the addiction to the risk. I can’t do anything about folks driving to Indiana to lay their golden cobblestone, but I hope I can stop Kentucky from being another enabler.

Mrs. Buffy Jones-Smith-Hudson-Dayton

So, once again I was ahead of the curve.

I was reading Instapundit the other day and ran into this article. I was fascinated that NPR would do a story that is so critical of their base. I mean, isn't almost everyone who listens to NPR a pretentious ass?

Now let me tell you my story.

10 years ago I was in college, and taking an English course that basically consisted of writing for review. Lots of writing style, and I enjoyed the hell out of it. One week, instead of instruction, we were required to write a piece extemporaneously. We were not given any notice that we were having this assignment.

Classes were 4 hours long. we had the first two hours to read our choice of several articles and do online research. Then the last two hours we were to hand write the assignment. You may not know this, but my handwriting sucks. always has, and probably always will. But, I can make it legible if I write very slowly.

So I took ten minutes to select and read an article, and then started writing. The article I choose was about the trend toward hyphenated names. And on how unwieldy they were, both in the first generation, and even more so in the 2nd, and we don't even want to think about a third.

Once again it is the liberal, pretentious asses, thinking only of themselves, causing unintended harm to others.

Missy and Poindexter didn't think about how this hyphenated monstrosity would affect their children and grandchildren. All they thought about was how it 'Felt Good' to them in the present.

The hyphenated name debacle is a short course in liberal thought. We did it because it made us feel good; now you go live with the consequences.

More evdence of how liberal 'thought' isn't really:

They did this to THEIR OWN CHILDREN.

'Nuff said.

Just Call Me a Prognosticator

I wrote this as a post 6 years ago, during the Bush- Kerry election cycle, as a response to a post at the old Atlantic Monthly site.

I didn’t keep a copy of the post I was responding to, but my guess is it was a Democrat who was pulling the holier-than-thou attitude and claiming that it was only the Republicans slinging mud, probably through the Swiftboaters. Even with that context, some of this won’t make sense, and I have tried to edit out the worst of it, but because I build on some of those points, I have had to leave a few in.

That being said, the following predicts the Tea Party activity we are seeing this year, which I why I thinks its worthy of posting again.

You beat a good tattoo, as long as it's not your ox getting gored. Step out of the box and count the mud balls the Dems and their unindicted co-conspirators are throwing.

Give and take, send and receive. Only a mindless (hell, I'll use it) Kool-aid drinker, from either side, thinks his noble cause is the blameless receiver of unwarranted mud and guano.

Face it, neither side wants us to KNOW the issues, much less debate them. They'll spend the next two months spouting talking points, spewing and defending mud, saying nothing and doing less.

We'll play here, and other sites, and in the letters to the editor, and come November one side will lose, one side will win, we'll lose another right or two, and the whole stinkin' mess will start again in four years.

We have two options- play along and do our best to keep Big Brother from controlling our lives down to vegetable we have for supper, enjoy the charade every four years and keep our heads above water, or give in, go smoke dope in a corner and become one of the clueless masses who are "undecided" until they step into a voting booth and pull a lever for name they think they recognize.

I'll keep fighting, and I'll keep losing, as long as the Republicrat party exists, and I'll keep hoping one day the rest of this country pulls it's collective head out of it's collective sports induced fog long enough to help.

The smoke screens over Bush's attendance at guard drills, or Kerry's back up for his medals is just to distract us from the fact that everyday government takes over more and more of the economy, mostly through regulation (for our own good, don't you know), but also through Jobs. According to the latest statistics one person in four works for the government at some level.

Stalin never had it so good.

But don't mind me- go back to the bickering- But if nothing changes in 2005, wake me up and let me know, will ya?

And things didn't change much in 2005, did they?

Polls lead me to believe things will change a little in 2011 though. Will they? Or have we been snookered again?

The Not So Glass Menagerie

On or about March 12th, 1995 my family moved into our new home in the country. On or about March 13th, 1995, we acquired our first pet. We now have a menagerie that would have Noah jealous. The current census indicates we have four fish, three dogs, two chickens, one cat, and a partridge in a pear tree. The last part I couldn't swear to, but we do have quail about the place, and two pear trees, so their combination is pretty much inevitable.

This accounting does not include the pets who have come and gone, such as the gerbil breeding farm my eldest started in his bedroom, the tank full of goldfish that have taken that final, spiral swim. Nor does it include the litter of eight puppies that was presented to us on St. Valentine's Day a couple of years ago. I also can't enumerate the unauthorized pets of our sons' we have evicted over the years, such as frogs, turtles, spiders, and other assorted life forms commonly thought of as vermin.

The problem is probably genetic, and definitely my wife's fault. She has had an overwhelming variety of pets, all of them strays or free to good home, since I've known her. This gathering of new pets has gotten so bad I can't even send her to the mailbox without fear of a new addition to the zoo. This year, three or four days after Easter, she came back with the day’s mail and a six-week-old chick she found wandering the road. A day or two later we found the box it had been dumped in. I guess somebody else found out the hard way that chickens do not make good house pets.

Some of the blame is mine, I guess. It was I who brought home our first pet, when I had to have a dog. I didn't even care about whether or not she was fixed until I found out for certain that she wasn't. (Which I still think is strange terminology, when you take something that works perfectly, break it, and then call it "fixed".) This is when the collection started to grow. We had to keep one of the pups. The others all went to good homes, and if our pup is any indication, turned out well.

Our third dog was adopted slightly differently. One of our neighbors had a dog he rescued from the road after almost hitting it with his car. As near as our vet can tell, it's two major breeds are chow and shar-pei. I like to call him five pounds of dog in a ten pound skin. Our neighbor was a bachelor, and Titan was a pup who needed to be around kids. He developed a close attachment to my middle son, probably due to the all baloney that kept mysteriously disappearing. The time he spent fenced in the neighbor's backyard was soundtracked to his yelps and cries. It was sort of like musical chairs. When the music stopped, the beeline to a seat on our porch started. Our neighbor finally decided that he needed a dog guarding his place, not ours and told my son Titan was going to the pound. He came home with Matt instead.

My wife's sisters have helped enable our addiction to buying pet food, too. But it's been done in a sneaky way, by giving the kids pets. The time I came home from work and found my three-year-old was the proud owner of a six-week-old kitten springs to mind. When her younger sister thought that a baby chicken for Easter was a good idea is another. And to be fair, my family isn't much better. It was my Mom who started us off on goldfish.

The goldfish are a classic case of how pet ownership evolves. For my son's third birthday in 1996 he was presented with one goldfish in a bowl. After six or seven months of bi-weekly bowl cleanings, I figured the darn thing was immortal and bought a tank and filter. Two weeks later we found him belly up on the top of the tank.

This is where I believe we started to throw good money after bad. We bought more goldfish, one of which was with children. Patrick was ecstatic. We watched those fish grow for almost eight months. After one of the monthly tank cleanings, a parent’s job, don't you know, we forgot to add the de-chlorinator before we added the fish. There were no survivors, and all victims were buried at sea. Or, at least, at close as we could come. My guilty conscience bought more fish.

I'm fairly certain there will be more pets in the future. It took lots of will power not to adopt a miniature sheltie that a friend was recently had to give away, but we managed. She found it a good home, instead of taking it to the pound, which helped. I also think my wife is ready to "just say no" to more pets. When one of the dogs got into the house after his bath recently she seemed a little pet weary. It could have been because he didn't stop to shake between the hose and the living room, but I'm not sure. What I do know for sure is I'm waiting until she's in a real good mood before I talk to her about replacing our weedwhacker with a goat.

UPDATE: No, we do not have a goat. I got a riding lawnmower instead.

And I'll tell you what prompted this post. The Young'un got some goldfish. One of our neighbors has a goldfish pond in his yard and he gave the Young'un some fish from the pond. It’s a Lose-Lose situation. He lost some goldfish, and I gained 3 more mouths to feed, and a fish tank in the living room again.

All of the pets in the story, except Titan are gone. The picture is Daisy, of course, and Bandit, my wife’s lap-rat dog. Pat’s kitten became a cat and was with us 7 years, until he got a little slow crossing the road one day. He’s buried up on the hill under the pear tree. And was replaced by Patches.

I really don’t see an end to the pet situation. I have had a dog in my life since I was 5, and intend to always have one. The fish keep the kids happy and feeding a cat is cheaper and easier than baiting and emptying mouse traps. But my wife and I still have one pet battle.

She wants a cow. Not for steaks and hamburger, but for a pet. There I draw the line. I am not going to have a 2000 pound pet wandering the backyard. Probably. Maybe.

I Just Took A Few Minutes

I am waiting to finish a beer and go to bed, after a long day of working in the yard, and re-read some of my old posts.

It seems like every other one, since last January any way, was how how far left Obama and the Democratistas (i just found that word in an old post) were taking the country.

But lately those posts have dropped off. Because Obama has moved right, or because we have become immune to the Socialism?

God, I hope its the former.

Proof I Am Edjamikated

The previous post reminded me of the only time I ever took a Philosphy class.

It was actually titled "Business Ethics", but was taught by a Philosphy Ph.D.

And he was a full-boat, anti-business liberal.

To put it mildly, we argued some.

Like for 4 hours every Thursday, for 5 weeks. I won 95% of the time.

The kicker is after all of the arguing I passed. The guy who sat next to me, who was in the same study cohort and shared my first initial (and kept his mouth shut for 5 weeks) flunked.

So this guy was not only vindictive, he was too educated to realize how ignorant he really was.

This was a paper our group turned in that, if I remember correctly, we got a 'C' on.

Basically because I called our 'Instructor' an idiot, used his philosphers to prove it, and made the charge stick.

The Pinto Case Study

In 1969 the United States was gearing up for its first energy crisis. At that time the average American made automobile weighed around two tons, had a high compression V-8 engine capable of producing at least 300 hundred horsepower and seated 6 comfortably. Volkswagen had been a fixture since the 1950’s, but recently the Japanese had started importing smaller cars, and it seemed time for the big three to enter the small car market.

Lee Iacocca, a demigod at Ford since his creation of the Mustang and the ‘Pony-car’ Market in 1964, saw a possibility to again shake up the American car industry, capture the economy market, and polish his star even more for his planned leap into the chair Henry Ford II had held since 1942- President and CEO of the Ford Motor Company. His idea was for a car that weighed less than 2000 pounds and cost less than $2000. To remind the Board of Directors who was behind this miracle car it was codenamed “Pinto”.

Iacocca met his goal and got the car on the market in time for the 1971 model year; but not without problems. The Pinto was the first all new design Iacocca had headed. (The Mustang was a re-bodied Falcon, a 4 year old design that had been well tested.) One issue that had to be addressed was the gas tank design. Various redesigns had been tested and rejected due to weight and expense issues. The first Pinto hit the market weighing 2005 pounds and costing $1995. Iacocca had done it again.

Six years later Mother Jones magazine published an ‘exposé’ on the Pinto and its exploding fuel system. The piece of evidence they considered most damaging was the internal FoMoCo memo that had the audacity to place a value on a human life and use that value in a cost/benefit analysis to determine whether or not to redesign the Pinto. Eight months later Ford recalled 1.5 million Pintos for repairs.

Public sentiment was very much against the placing of a specific dollar value on a human life, yet this was not a new, or strictly a business, concept. When each of us decides how much life insurance to carry we are determining the value of our own lives, or that of a loved one. Some considered Ford’s valuation callous, yet it wasn’t.

An interesting bit of Ford history; in 1956 Ford produced what it billed as the “Safest Car on the Road”. With such items as seatbelts (not required by law until 1965) padded dashboard (also first required in 1965) and other safety equipment as standard Ford was hoping to excite the market. Instead, for the first time since the introduction of the Model A in 1929, Ford lost the production race to Chevrolet. The 1957 Ford was lower, faster and billed as race ready. Ford out produced Chevy by almost 150,000 units. Henry Ford II had learned his lesson- the American car buying public would not pay for safety.

Not that he Pinto was unsafe. It met or exceeded every safety standard in the industry when it was produced. Life is risky. We can either face that fact or hide from it. Ford’s analysis faced the fact that a certain percentage of their cars would be involved in fatal accidents, quantified that risk and compared it to the cost of upgraded safety items. $5.00 may not seem like a lot of money, but when 5 million cars are built that equals $25 million; money that the car buying public may not want to spend.

Facts can sometimes be elusive things. Depending on your point of view a source may or may not be reliable, and those sources’ facts may or may not be acceptable. Mother Jones magazine, named for Mary Harris Jones, a.k.a Mother Jones, “a union activist, active opponent of child labor, anarchist, and self-described “hellraiser.” ”(Wikepedia; http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mother_ Jones_(magazine)), which can count among its former editors ersatz filmmaker Michael Moore (Wikepedia), is not what I would consider an unbiased source on corporate matters.
Neither is it a media force; according to the Mother Jones website, http://www.mojones.com/about/pr/circulation_pr.html, as of February of 2005: “Mother Jones magazine's A.B.C. audited circulation for the second half of 2004 was 250,563, the highest figure in the 29-year-old magazine's history.” Compared this figure to Sports Illustrated Women magazine (highest circulation 400,000) (http://en.wikipedia.org); Car and Driver (1,387,113) or Reader’s Digest (11,944,898) (World Almanac and Book of Facts, 2004 edition).

Our case study quotes the Mother Jones article at one point:
Unfortunately the Pinto is not an isolated case of corporate malpractice in the auto industry. Neither is Ford a lone sinner. There probably isn’t a car on the road without a safety hazard known to its manufacturer.

This statement is probably not as broad as it could be. There probably isn’t a product on the market without a fault of some kind or the other, including medications. Manufacturers of all kinds will do a cost/benefit analysis of any defect and go into production. To do other wise would bring an end to production of anything, while it is exhaustively tested to cure any possible fault. The manufacturers know of these problems, and are aware they can cause injury, but have decided that the benefits of their products to the consumer outweigh the possible hazards.

Undeniably, Ford has a duty to its stakeholders; chief among them its customers, to whom it owes safe, reliable, affordable transportation; its shareholders, to whom it owes a return on their investment; and its employees to whom it owes a chance for future employment. Ford had spent $200 million (over one billion dollars today (http://www.westegg.com/inflation/infl.cgi.76)) and the impact of retooling would have affected their most important stakeholders negatively, as would have the cost of new regulation.

The Pinto could never be called the safest car on the road, yet it was not the unmitigated death trap the press reported either. Millions of these cars were built, and were driven billions of passenger miles. It also fulfilled its duty to the Ford Company stakeholders- jobs to the employees, a profit to the shareholders and affordable transportation to the customers. Had the cost of defending against, or settling, lawsuits over the Pinto been excessive Ford would have pulled the plug on the project, using the same cost/benefit analysis that Mother Jones so disparaged.

Production of the Pinto is not an ethically hard decision. The failure to include a $1.00 piece of plastic is harder to justify, but we are taking this decision out of time and out of context. The production of any product, much less a complex one such as an automobile involves thousands of choices at each step of the production. Hundreds of these choices would involve potential safety issues. To single out one, in hindsight, for special attention because it was wrong is patently unfair.

John Rawls advocated the idea that a society should decide on the rules for society blindly, the deciders not knowing which side of the lines being drawn they would inhabit. Ford Motor Company, its engineers and managers made the decisions needed to meet the goals set down for the Pinto Project, then purchased these cars and put their families in them. They knew there were potential problems, yet felt their risk of occurring was low and that overall they had done a good job. As Rawls had advocated, they made decisions not knowing if they would become one of the few these problems would affect.

Milton Friedman, who felt the only social responsibility a corporation had was to increase profits to the shareholders, Ford admirably followed. By meeting every safety standard in force, and making sure the shareholders profits weren’t wasted, they were good stewards of the corporate funds. Their response to the various lawsuits also showed acceptable conservation of corporate funds by limiting losses through settlement of lawsuits instead of adjudication.

Moral objections can be made to most business decisions, depending on who your moral heroes are. Obviously there are parties who could, and have, disagreed with the production decisions made on the Pinto. Yet most of these parties have had issues with any decision made by business that didn’t involve closing their doors. Each decision must be evaluated in context, and not as an individual- that’s they way their made. Given the context, it’s hard to fault any decision that contributed to a project as successful as the Pinto was for Ford.

Another Letter From My Cousin

Dear Cousin Red,

Just a quick note to let y’all know how things are goin’ here in the Holler. Some folks have asked me where I got the name Throckmorton.

I was named after my rich Great-Uncle Quincy. He went by Quincy ‘cause he didn’t like Throckmorton any more than I do. I was named after him in hopes he would leave some money in our direction, but he wound up leaving it to a young nurse he knew, probably in the biblical sense. But I ain’t got it as bad as my youngest brother, Beverly. We didn’t have any sisters, and he was named after a great-aunt with a few coins to leave. All he got was a fine collection of used flea collars.

Speakin’ of kinfolk, my Uncle Billy was just made a granddad for the first time, by his daughter, Hills. They say the kid is the spitin’ image of his son-in-law Josh. To bad Josh is married to his Hills’ twin, Beverly. She didn’t get the money, either. All she got was a large jar full of parts left over from neutering tomcats. Josh claims that half the kids in the Holler look like him. His wife says that doesn’t help his case at all. It just reminds her that there may be room in that jar for one more set. Ain’t they goin’ to be a fun bunch at the family reunion?

Speakin’ of family reunions, we‘ve got one comin’ up on my dad’s side. I’m lookin’ forward to seein’ my second cousin, once removed, Earl. In case some of y’all don’t know about that once removed stuff, here’s the way it works. Once removed means one time we threw Earl out of the family reunion for lightin’ bottle rockets in Granny’s tobacco barn. Earl says it was a moment’s loss of good sense. Granny says that moment started when he was about 5 or 6.

But anyway, he’s goin’ to make his first reunion since then, maybe. Granny ain’t decided if she’ll let him come or not. Earl claims his old banishment don’t count, cause this year he ain’t comin’ as a born in, but a married in, since he’s now married to my brother’s second ex-wife. She’s still invited ‘cause she makes the best potato salad. Granny says she might allow Earl to come, but only if she gets his lighter first.

Best wishes from all of us in the Holler,

Throckmorton Q. Sheisseschnitter

A Complete Inventory of Nuts

Another old one from the archives.

Have you ever thought about making a list of people whom you were convinced were certifiably nuts? I'm not talking about individually, but collectively, like people who go scuba diving in caves. I sometimes feel that insanity isn’t defined as fully as it needs to be. Some of the groups I think should be included in the new definition are storm chasers, teenage boys, and the twentysomething guys who tell steady girl friends that they "are just not the marrying kind."

Take for instance the guys who go cave diving. I can't think of a better way to allow my widow to collect my life insurance. Let's look at this logically. I'll take a limited commodity (my life), add a limited supply of a necessary sustaining ingredient (the tank full of air), and add two unlimited variables (the length of the cave and the amount of water in it). Algebraically, it looks like this; L+A/CW=0. Unquestionably, if you are experienced in this pastime, it is perfectly safe. The question is how do you become experienced with out becoming deceased?

There are other things that people do for enjoyment that I wouldn't do to avoid jail, such as jumping out of perfectly good aircraft. Further proof that these people are slightly insane is that they are usually Marines to start with. This same analysis applies to people who scale cliffs and rappel down them, or endure the frigid winds of Everest. And some of these folks weren't Marines to begin with, and thereby lack that built in excuse for such risky behavior.

The only group other than Marines to have a built in excuse for daily insanity is teenage boys. For some reason the words "I dare you" are able to wipe out whatever little sense has been carefully cultivated by years of parental guidance. The formula is simple. Add three teenage males, all on a hormone induced, death wish high, two teenage girls who look like they need to be impressed with a manly feat of ignorance, and one "I dare you". You don't need to stir this recipe, it will blow up on it's own. A busy street or tall bridge makes a fine catalyst, as does the addition of an expendable auto, such as Mom's.

Some of these assumed nutty people are highly educated; a Doctor of this, a Masters in that, or at the least, a Rhodes scholar. Some times they even have a degree in the action they are pursuing, like the Doctor of Aero-anatomical science, who was an expert in high altitude free falling. But which came first, the drop or the degree? And how about people who study volcanoes and tornadoes just so they can claim a valid reason to be around them when they are at their most dangerous? If that isn't near the top of the nut heap, I don't know what is.

But don’t go anywhere, it gets worse. I just found out about a group who offers tours chasing tornadoes. How much would you trust your doctor if you found out that he spent his last vacation, and his hard earned cash, riding around Kansas looking for a twister? Could you trust the banker who gave the people who founded this business a starter loan? I’ll bet their insurance agent is prematurely gray, and deservedly rich. Need I mention the gentleman who just spent ten million dollars to have himself strapped to 10,000 pounds of liquid oxygen and have it lit like a massive bottle rocket? Care to trust him with your life savings for proper investment? This guy also was old enough to know better.

Which is unlike the last group that I consider for the Snickers Hall of Fame, the young males who consider commitment a four-letter word. It’s not that I’m bitter or envious in any way, but just how often do I need to hear about being free and able to practice self-determination? After all, I was once like that. I wasn’t born married. I’m not so senile I’ve forgotten how it feels. I don’t need a constant reminder that I’ve got responsibilities, a family, a career, and a long-term commitment to a mortgage company. So what is it about their behavior I consider so risky? It's because soon one of these youngsters is going to get a handful of knuckles in his face for his efforts to enlighten me.

I’ve got a few more examples, but I think I’ve illustrated the general idea. These folks are just too attuned to themselves, too focused on what they wish to do to care how the rest of the world views their sanity, or apparent lack thereof. Because if you ask me, that’s what makes them nuts.

More stuff from the archives.

This post is probably 5 years old, and every word is still true, as much as I hate to admit it.

If the road to Hell is paved with good intentions, then I can be fairly sure that my road will be very well paved.

And no, that is not my belly.

That time of year has arrived again, when the success, or lack thereof, of my most recent diet makes itself known. Mostly it’s the latter. When I was younger, I had a washboard stomach, but I've kept up with the times. I now have a whole laundry room. It’s that addition which keeps me in trouble with The Spousal Inquisition, and as far as she’s concerned, the Fifth is only for medicinal purposes.

It’s not like I haven’t tried to follow the guidelines for a healthy diet. I’ve reduced red meat, and added salads. Going from double Quarter-Pounders to Big Macs counts, doesn’t it? After all, its less meat, and they do put lettuce and tomato on a Big Mac. I’ve also cut out some deep fried foods, and replaced them with a shallow fried variety. If that ain’t healthy eating, I don’t know what is.

I’ve also thought about starting an exercise regime. I decided to begin by writing down a plan to follow. Working up a sweat hunting for a pencil counts as an exercise program, I hope. Part two is hunting up some paper. But my wife seems less than supportive of my plans; even after I told her I was going to start training for next year’s Flying Pig Marathon.

She first ask just how fast I would have to run to earn the designation of a FLYING pig, and then reminded me I got winded the last time I drove 26 miles. She added insult to injury with a call to update my life insurance. She also inquired about whether or not a man of my age taking up running activated my policy’s suicide clause. As I said, she was less than supportive.

But I am committed to getting into better shape. All it takes is will power. I just hope old Will is still in my Rolodex. Like I said, I am committed to exercising. My wife just thinks I should be committed, for thinking I can become 18 again. I don’t want to be eighteen again, I just want to look like I’m eighteen again, and I think it’s doable. She thinks it’s possible for me to look that young again too, just not in this lifetime.

I have to admit a past littered with good intentions, aimed at physical improvement. I joined a gym once, thinking that being surrounded by healthy young men would goad me into becoming a little more inclined toward a healthy lifestyle. My second day there one of these young punks called me a fat old man, so I hit him. He didn’t feel it, but some busybody reported me, and I was asked to leave.

I’ve tried home exercise equipment too, but with limited positive results. Notice I said Positive. I had a folding treadmill in the corner of the bedroom, but the first night I stubbed a couple of toes on the darn thing and spent two weeks hobbling around it. I bought a used Stairmaster, and when I got it home, I found out it was too big to fit through the small doors in my house. It found a home on the front porch as a plant stand; a couple of hanging baskets on the handles disguise it real well.

I also went the free weights route. I got my weights free from some guy who said he’d found a better way to stay healthy. After a few days, I figured out that not messing with free weights was a good way to stay healthy. About the only spot I wasn’t sore was the sole of my left foot, and that was by accident, not design. I still use the weights, though. Every winter I put some of them in the trunk of my car.

But I’m not discouraged, believe it or not. I fully intend to lose some weight this summer, eat healthier, and be able to run out a homer without getting winded. I probably should scale that back to a triple. Maybe even a double. Realistically, my initial goal should be to reach first without slowing to a walk. I’ll save the rest for next summer.

As I warned, some more old stuff is coming your way.

This is from way back in 2006, when the Commonwealth of Kentucky made not wearing a seatbelt a primary offense, meaning the cops could stop you solely for NOT wearing a seatbelt.

Call it what it is; Invasive Revenue Enhancement.

And by the way, none of my elected representatives ever responded.

And one small correction; in my letter I assume that court costs will be assessed with the fine. That is not the case. I ought to know.

I have paid this fine twice in the last four years.


Governor Ernie Fletcher
Governor’s Mansion
Frankfort, KY 40601

Sen. Katie Stine
Rep. Jon David Reinhardt
Kentucky State Capital Building
Frankfort, KY 40601

Friends,

In Sunday morning’s Kentucky Enquirer I read of the new Seatbelt Bill working its way through the legislature, and was seriously dismayed on several counts, but primarily, to be blunt, as I am above the age of reason and not adjudged incompetent, the government can not legislate that I protect myself from myself.

Other than my military service I have lived my entire life in the Commonwealth of Kentucky. I am a registered Independent, but normally vote Republican primarily because of their usual defense of personal rights and liberties.

Governor Fletcher, I am appalled at your stand on this issue. Sen. Stine, I applaud your position, and hope your review of the legislation will enforce your opposition. Rep. Reinhart, I am unsure of your position, but am hopeful you agree with Sen. Stine and me.

Seatbelt use is a good idea. Since they were mandated in automobiles in 1964 they have saved an untold number of lives. I am not against seatbelts or their usage; I am against state required usage.

Government in this country is designed to be the servant of the people, not their master; this law is not the work of a servant, but a master. I will accept advice from the legislature on how to protect myself, but not their mandates to do so.

I will accept the recommendation that not wearing a seatbelt can be risky; that smoking may be injurious to my health; that too much red meat can kill me. I will not accept laws that necessitate cessation of these activities. As my servant the Commonwealth can advise and advocate a personal course of action, not command one.

I think we are all old enough to remember when it was acceptable to smoke in airplanes and restaurants. The initial request to modify the norm was for a non-smoking area in each of these places. We all know where that beginning has led us. The trite phrase is “Slippery Slope”.

The seatbelt slope started with a recommendation, progressed to a passive law and now is threatening to become invasive. Where will it end? Will the ‘small’ fine ($25.00, plus $101.50 for court costs is a weeks’ groceries for lots of folks) become a larger fine when seatbelt usage doesn’t increase? Possibly progress to a loss of driver’s license over the next few years? Maybe even as high as confiscation of the automobile being driven? (Some areas have enacted this penalty for soliciting prostitution. This punishment for seatbelt usage seems unlikely today; ten years ago it seemed unlikely for soliciting. Fifteen years ago the idea that I could be ticketed for not wearing a seatbelt was considered outlandish.)

Some of the points used in an effort to persuade me this is a good law are interesting as well.

• 388 few brain and spinal injuries;
• 931 traffic deaths in Kentucky in 2003; 2/3 of these victims were not wearing a seatbelt;
• Kentucky ranks 47th in seatbelt usage;
• Kentucky’s Medicaid program would save nearly $41 million over 10 years if this law was enacted.

Over a hundred years ago Mark Twain defined three kinds of lies: Lies, damn lies and statistics. These points are statistics.

On the first point we are not given the span of time in which these injuries occur. Is it a month; a year; ten years?

Second point- of the 2/3 who were unbuckled and perished in a car accident, how many of those accidents were survivable, had they been buckled in? Of the 1/3 who were properly fastened in, and did not survive, how many would have, had they not been strapped into position?

The third point is based on what data? Tickets issued; accident data; phone polls; who knows? And why does it matter anyway where we ranked?

Last point, if these figures are correct (lets face it, this is a statistical best guess, and probably a best case scenario as well, for maximum impact), this will be a figure of $4.1 million a year, for a program that is $250 million a year in the red. A proverbial drop in the bucket.

For all practical purposes this bill, if enacted, will, according to the government’s own statistics, possibly increase my chances of surviving an accident by .333 percent, possibly save less than 2% of just the deficit in Medicaid, and increase my chances of donating $25 to the courts.

Sen. Stine, as an attorney you can appreciate the concept of precedent. Each statute and legal decision is a building block to the next. Rights are not commandeered overnight. They are chipped away one small and seemingly logical step at a time. Just half an airplane; just half a restaurant remember?

It will also be a stepping stone to possible future statutes to protect me from myself, all for the common good. How long will it be before we can control the sale of red meat to folks who have suffered a heart attack or legally ration sweets to diabetics? Perhaps the legislature can decide we need to control the sale of caffeinated products to those with high blood pressure, or fast food to the part of the populace who are above a statistical weight to height ratio? All this information can put on an ID card. Just show your card before you can purchase a controlled substance- like a pound of ground beef, a Big Mac & fries or a Hershey bar.

Each of these instances is legally akin to a seatbelt statute. They are designed solely to protect an individual from their possibly dangerous actions, based on the possible cost of the consequences of that action to the public. How long until we can legislate against spelunking, hang gliding or failing to exercise? The basic premise is here. All it will take is for the public frog to get used to the temperature of the water, before the heat is turned up another notch.

Thank you all for your time and attention,

An Edjamikated Redneck

I also think that the 'public frog' has felt the temperature of the water, and has decided to make a TEA Party out of it.

As I warned you, I have relocated my archives, and you will be punished. This is from a few years ago, 5 I think, during the last cicada invasion.

I noticed this morning that the cicadas were gone, (Thank God!) for another 17 years. And yet, it has left me slightly melancholy. This was my third cicada invasion, and kind of like a walk in the Seven League Boots, 17-year cicadas create a long distance, but short coupled, time frame.

For folks who aren’t familiar with the story of the Seven League Boots, those who wore them could travel seven leagues, about 21 miles, in a single step. My cicada memories travel 17 years in a single leap.

The first time I encountered these long-lived critters I was in grade school. My thoughts were wrapped up in baseball cards, my bike and my friends. Cicadas were a new plaything to us- allowing them to walk up our arms, putting a string leash on one and taking him for a “fly”, and just the incredible number of them there were.

I was a child, and I had parents and grandparents that my world revolved around. My only responsibilities were to be in the house by dark, and to keep my room clean. School was behind me, and it seemed like forever before it would start again.

Cicadas were the news of the summer, and as far as my world was concerned, the only news.

The second time I was grownup. I had graduated from High School, done my time in the service, came home and got married. I was a young father, my oldest was two at the time; his brother a newborn, and the world had changed. I had the responsibility to keep food on the table and clothes on the backs of my wife and sons.


I had no more time for cicadas than I did lightning bugs. I had watched my parents bury theirs, save for one grandfather; friends had grown up and drifted away. Not only did I not have time for the invasion itself, I neither had time nor interest in reflecting on the last seventeen years.

This time I do. I have buried a parent, gained more sons, and grandpa is still with us. Life is neither the struggle it was 17 years ago, nor as idyllic as it was 34. The cicadas were less a nuisance, and more wonder. Tracking their arrival; gauging the day when we would be covered in cicada casings; the excitement at spotting the first one; telling the kids about the last two seasons; I was again in awe of the wonders of nature.

What about the next time? I should still be a father, but will I be a husband or a son? Or a grandson? Or a grandpa myself? Will I be more comfortable, or less? Only time will tell; time gauged by the arrival of a bug from under the trees.

As a partial jump update, with 7 years down and 10 to go, there have been some changes, as to be expected.

Grandpa is still with us, and I have become a Grandfather myself, twice. One son is married and on his own. As of June 1 I will no longer have any children in Grade School, for the first time in 20 years.

In ten more years, I'll update this again.

Sometimes Looking Back Can Be Instructive

This is a final exam question and answer from a Political Science class I had almost 10 years ago. This was written in June of 2002, but some of it is even more important today, with Obama in office.

The picture is a B-36 (if memory serves) that I took at the US Air Force Museum a couple of years ago.

During the quarter, we spent a great deal of time discussing various issues involving the attack on America of September 11, 2001. Following the attack there has been considerable discussions concerning “Homeland Security” and the need to provide every American with safety and security. This has resulted in debate concerning greater and increased surveillance, intelligence gathering, enhanced techniques for searching baggage and personal belongings prior to boarding airlines, ships, boats, trains and airlines; this security has been enhanced along our borders, at our sea-harbors, in mass transportation.

As Americans, we have always enjoyed enormous freedoms that, before September 11, 2001, we seemed to take for granted.

• Please explain the impact of these increased “Homeland Security” implements as they relate to you personally as an American with the expectation of considerable personal, human, and constitutional rights.


When the first man climbed out of a tree, his culture warred with the existing one, which decided to stay in the tree. Sociologist will tell us that every society will have a major culture that drives the society, and a subculture to war against it. When cities and their major cultures were far enough apart to only meet occasionally, clashes were infrequent. But when each culture expanded to the point where cultures clashed almost daily, great wars were fought, until each could claim a defensible border.

The Romans were the first to try a multicultural experiment, leaving in place local customs and culture, instead of supplanting it with their own, and using their considerable influence to stop the warring between the societies under their control.

What does this have to do with Homeland security? Nothing, and everything. Societies kept their security by being homogeneous, and outside influence and threats were easily identified and dealt with. Our culture since the signing of the Mayflower Compact in 1620 has been one of rule of law and majority. This made our society attractive to people from every culture and corner of the globe. This makes us very un-homogeneous, and culturally very difficult to identify an outsider, particularly one who is a threat. Without investigation we have no idea who is a threat to our security, and who isn’t. At issue is who should do the investigating, who should control the information developed, and what should they with all that data.

The innocent man should have nothing to fear from a fair and honest government. The trouble is do we have a fair and honest government? Will we always have such faith in our leaders? Can we trust the government to investigate and NOT use that information to control society? The “emanations from the penumbra” of the 14th Amendment gives us a right to privacy, especially from government intrusion. When we do get a regime we don’t trust, it’s too late to get our rights and information back.

Now we’re getting to the crux of problem. Does our inherent American distrust of government equal or out weigh our need for security? Everyone agrees that drunken driving is an issue requiring government regulation. But at what point does our need to be secure from the drunk become a higher priority than the right to travel the highways, free from the molestation of random roadblocks? Can we punish, in this respect, the innocent and with the guilty? Isn’t that what we are doing with all of the security checks at airports, surveillance of boarding passengers and delays for extra checks? Punishing the innocent because of the guilty few?

This all may seem to be the long way around the barn, but no decision can be made in a vacuum, it needs to be supported by something, and in this case shouldn’t be taken lightly. The only two legitimate functions of government are to protect our security, and to protect our liberty, and here those two functions clash. In order to maintain the one, we need to lose some of the other.

I am reminded of a program in California a few years ago where in order to keep a certain type of firearm, it needed to be registered with the state, and payment of a $15.00 fee was required. Eighteen months into the program all of the registered owners received a letter containing their refunded fee, and a new law explaining they had 20 days to turn the gun in for destruction, or get it out of the state. It is actions like these, where a governing body collects information for one stated purpose and then uses that same information to, metaphorically at least, beat you over the head that worry cognizant folks.

Every despotic regime in the history of the world had a phobia for controlling the populace, and their movements. If the Bush administration wants turn into a regime where we need to justify, catalogue and authorize our movements, and need to show our “papers” before being allowed to travel, how much more regulation would we need? Past what has been put into place since September 11th? If not this Administration, what of the future? Gore in 2004?

Part of what worries me about these new regulations is their permanency. When will we be free of these regulations, if ever? Creating a Cabinet post for Homeland Security seems make these new rules permanent. George Patton once said you win a war by “Making the other poor, dumb bastard die for HIS country,“ a sentiment Israel seems to have taken to heart when dealing with terrorists. Maybe instead of a Department of Homeland Security would should create a Department Terrorist Insecurity, keeping the pressure and attack on the problem, and release the victims from government control.