Rodney Strange's Blog

'Cheater Cheater'

 

 With author Rodney Strange   

You knew it was coming! An angry mom has filed a lawsuit for five hundred billion dollars against the wealthy elitist parents who cheated to get their rich little ragamuffins into the best of the best universities in the country. Jennifer Kay Toy filed a complaint on Wednesday in the Superior Court of California, County of San Francisco, against all the defendants in the college admissions bribery scandal. claimed in her lawsuit that her son, Joshua Toy, was rejected from some of the same colleges that were involved in the bribery scandal, despite his work ethic and 4.2 GPA, and she believes he wouldn't have been if the admissions process wasn't manipulated.
Five hundred billion bucks is a lot of money and last I heard, a lot of these newly charged felons are suddenly unemployed. And this is just the beginning. Toy is not the only one filing lawsuits against those accused of being involved in the scandal.
Erica Olsen and Kalea Woods, two Stanford students, filed a class action complaint on Wednesday against USC, Stanford, UCLA, the University of San Diego, the University of Texas at Austin, Wake Forest, Yale, and Georgetown for negligence and fraudulent behavior.

The biggest news story of the year was just unfolding as I struggled to unlock the front door with my arms loaded with plastic bags of groceries. As the door finally swung open, I cringed as the blaring television that I had neglected to turn off before leaving for the store blasted the jumbled, excited voices of news reporters. Instantly aware that some major news event was unfolding, I fumbled with the seventeen bags I was sure I could manage in one trip, hoisting them onto the kitchen counter, trying to tune my good ear into the TV in the other room.
My mind raced in wonderment as I scurried to take my place front and center a mere two feet from the television, leaving my ice cream to melt all over the kitchen counter.
"Somebody what? Cheated on a test? Musta been a big test!" I wrinkled my nose and flipped to another channel where a host of law enforcement officials cluttered a stage, hundreds of news reporters crowding around them. Local law enforcement, the FBI, CIA, Interpol, and even Scotland Yard had spent months...decades, to hear them tell it, investigating. Countless man hours and taxpayer dollars were spent tracking down this elite new Cartel, no, not peddling meth and various forms of opioids, but enlisting the help of shady characters to help their college-bound snowflakes cheat on SAT and ACT tests, as well as other questionable practices. And it is wrong and I do not make light of it. But you reap what you sow. But I kinda, sorta understand where they're coming from.

I'm not a rich man. In the midst of an ongoing west Texas drought, I can't even afford to bribe a dog to pee on my shade tree. But I relate to the extreme pressure these parents were facing as their young offspring began picking their university of choice. A mere two years ago I too, stood in their parents' shoes. With high school graduation looming before my daughter's eyes, she began to select her top school of choice, and after hastily reviewing her options, selected the most prestigious private Christian university in the state of Texas.
"This is where I want to go to school, Dad."
I cleared my throat, "You know, there is a really great junior college just thirty miles down the road."
"Nah! I have decided on Dallas Baptist University. That is where I am going."
"Texas Tech is just down the road..."
"No Dad!"
And my life became pure 24/7 hell for the next few months. We made numerous trips to Dallas, not a short drive from west Texas. We talked to numerous financial counselors, applied to countless scholarships, fought with each other, disowned each other nearly on a daily basis, and finally at the end...simply stopped speaking to each other. Days continued to pass. Time was running out. Finally, the deadline came and I simply stated to her one day,
"I can't do it. I cannot send you to a private university. If that is where you wish to go, you must find a way to do it on your own."

She's just weeks away from obtaining her Associate's Degree at that great little junior college down the road and with her hard work and dedication, now has been accepted to a less prestigious and far less expensive private Christian university out here in west Texas. Both she and I have had a glorious, stress-free two years of college experience. We did it fair and square and she did it all on her own. And the only person I tried to bribe was a campus police officer when he approached me for parking on campus without a parking sticker.
"Hungry, officer?" as I offered him a melted Snicker bar.
"Oh crap! Is that the FBI coming down my road?"

 

 

'A Dirty Little Story'

  With Author Rodney Strange   

Spring is definitely in the air, or as we like to call it out here in west Texas...dirt. The rest of you are admiring your daffodils and blooming tulips while red-breasted robins hop through your green lawn in search of an elusive earthworm. Meanwhile, out here we're busy dodging tumbleweeds the size of John Deere tractors in zero visibility. As you admire the beginning of a golden tan on your cheeks, we're digging dust and dirt out of cracks and crevices we didn't even know existed while marveling at the power of nature and its ability to get dirt that deep in our belly buttons. While you arrange your dainty wicker furniture with those flowery cushions on your patios, we're cranking up the welder, determined that this year, we will build an iron bench that won't blow away with the next wind storm. You're hanging your baskets filled with potted plants on the front porch and we're frantically dashing around armed with bungee cords and tie-down straps, cinching down everything we own to a shade tree or the propane tank in hopes it all will still be there when the dust settles. Aw, that smell of morning dew on the grass...we smell dirt, baby...dirt. You should see what comes out of our noses after a good dust storm!
I've chased down more lawn furniture than I can remember...and remember, our lawn furniture is heavy! I had a hot tub for several years and can't count how many times I had to fetch the cover out of the pasture and haul it back to the yard. Finally, it blew so far away that I never found it. I had an eighteen-foot trampoline take off like a flying saucer, clipping the corner of the house and pruning the tops of several trees before disappearing out of sight. After the storm, a neighbor from a half mile away called.
"You missin' a trampoline? I've got the remnants of one in my front yard."
"Yep, you missing a swimming pool?"
"How big is it?"
"About the size of that trampoline in your yard."
It's like a swap meet after a dust storm. We all scurry outside to see what treasures blew up in our yards. Just like a Chinese Christmas.
I have my favorite dust storms. The wind blew out of the west at eighty miles an hour...sustained, mind you, one Saturday morning for three hours. I had six inches of sand between the double pains of my patio doors. I lost the riding mower in that storm...didn't blow away. Sand blew so hard that it filled the crankcase and I threw a rod when I started it up. Then there was a Wednesday afternoon when the entire west side of the carport came loose in a seventy mile an hour wind. Like a fool, I climbed up a ladder with baling wire and rope. As I leaned my upper body against the metal roof, a gust picked it up, me along with it and slung us in the air like a rag doll...that was more fun than Six Flags! My favorite wind storm though was the day my barn blew away. It sounded like a beer can crushing underfoot. The insurance paid off really well on that one, mainly because there was no barn for the adjuster to evaluate and all he had to go on was my description of what kind of barn it was before it blew away. I tend to embellish now and then...I am a storyteller, after all.
I've been here in west Texas for over twenty years and I don't know why. Apparently, the only way out is to die. It's been said that this spot of Texas has the most severe weather anywhere in the United States, including Alaska. It's severely cold in the winter with those same winds howling out of the north at a steady gait of thirty to forty miles an hour. The old-timers say there isn't nothing between here and the North Pole but a barbed wire fence and it's down most of the time. Just as winter leaves, spring blows in. By the time June arrives, we're weather weary. But the good news is, summer always comes!
While the rest of you are hunkered down under an air conditioner, sweat dripping from your armpits, we're out mowing the lawn in the evenings beneath a most awesome sunset that, believe it or not, only blesses west Texas. As you stand beneath cold water in your shower in a futile attempt to find refuge from a hundred-degree temperature at midnight, we're sitting on our patios watching a huge sky full of twinkling stars that, believe it or not, only blesses west Texas. We'll stay outside until the temperature drops so low that it forces us inside with a shiver and a giggle as we think how lucky we are to be in west Texas. The humidity pegs out at around fifteen percent in the summer...so while you make a mad dash from the house to your car, busting into a sweat in your ninety percent humidity...think about us.
I met a man a few years ago who had moved here from Houston and he commented that, according to the weatherman, the humidity outside was thirty percent.
"Thirty percent! That's unbelievable! Thirty percent!"
"Yeah," I drawled, "It is a bit humid today."
I didn't mean it as a joke, but he is still laughing about that conversation to this day.
And then there's autumn...yes, fall! Now I remember why I've been here for twenty years...those awesome west Texas autumns. Believe it or not, only west Texas is blessed with an autumn so awesome! Come on down and catch a west Texas dust storm. Once you cough up all that mud out of your lungs, it's smooth sailing into summer!

'This Week We Look At Porn'

Whaddya mean, where's the pictures? No, we aren't going to look at porno pictures...we're going to talk about porn. Well, that got rid of most of you. I remember the very first time I caught a glimpse of a naked lady. Couldn't have been more than eight years old. I had carried an empty coke bottle the tenth of a mile to the feed store where they had a coke machine stocked with ice cold Coca-Cola. I stepped inside and was greeted by the stares of numerous farmers gathered around a table playing dominoes, shyly ducked my head and scurried toward the coke box as I dug the dime my mom had given me out of my pocket. As I reached around the side of the box to place my empty bottle in the rack, my eyes caught sight of her...right there on the wall, wearing nothing but a smile. Yes, boys and girls, Miss July was the very first woman who ever exposed herself to me. As you might guess, I became a dedicated coke drinker. Many of you don't remember a day when there was no internet, thus no internet porn. Us youngsters back in the day relied on National Geographic and the Sears and Roebuck catalog.
A few Sundays ago, the preacher touched on porn. He was on a roll preaching on various sexual sins when he hit on the topic. As the word 'porn' escaped his lips, I'd wager a full eighty percent of the men in the congregation shrunk to half their size, some even disappearing beneath the pews. A respectable number of women noticeably shifted uneasily in their seats as well. Not me. I sat there staring directly at the pastor with a smile on my face...I'm single, you know. No, that isn't the only reason. I readily admit I have run across a few naughty pictures on the internet in the past, but I personally am not one to become infatuated with this obsession. Once I determined that it's all basically the same, and there was nothing to learn that I hadn't already, I easily put that behind me. Sorta like golf...most everyone tries it at one time or another in their life...and most just don't see the point of it.
Back to the preacher...He continued, "Husbands, I have counseled your wives on this subject more than any other throughout my ministry, and if you could only understand the damage and devastation this causes in your marriage..." I might have dozed off momentarily because I'm single, you know. Then he caught my attention with this, "And wives..." He paused as if searching for the proper words, "You must understand that the male is a visual creature and..." He stopped in mid-sentence, choosing not to continue. I knew exactly where he wanted to go...and no, I don't blame him for aborting the topic. As he uttered those words, my mind immediately flashed back to my ex-wife, an attractive woman. She left for work every morning looking her very best. But weekends...not so much. I can vividly see those horrid gray sweat pants, the holey faded red sweatshirt that was her attire every single weekend. Absolutely no makeup and her hair pulled onto the top of her head like a mop, waving from side to side as she shifted throughout the house. Her appearance was much like that of an old red hen...yes, a chicken. Sexy? She wasn't ringing my bell. I have to confess I was always a bit envious of her co-workers who had the pleasure of seeing her in a more appealing way. Yeah, I know...all the women are pissed off now, but hey, I might just accidentally save a marriage.
What's so wrong with porn? Heck, what is the harm of prostitution, friends with benefits, and those creepy ads you just accidentally run across in the personals section of Craig's List? Because folks, we are better than that. To lower our standards and our values to that level makes us inferior beings.
God made man and then woman with the intent for human companionship and love. He then gave an awesome gift to mankind, a genuine and bonding way to express love for each other. He gave us the ability to experience sexual pleasure as the ultimate expression of our love for our chosen mate. That was His plan. We chose to violate the plan. Out of all the sins mankind has dreamed up throughout history, our sexual sins have undoubtedly caused our God the most grief. In fact, it was the lust of sexual pleasure that forced God to destroy mankind at one point in time.
In our society today, we no longer have to seek out porn. No longer do we have to slither off into a dark room and go incognito in search of it. It's as close as your Twitter feed. Porn is all over your television. Your favorite celebrities have become porn stars, gleefully showing their goods on magazine covers and all across the internet. Music artists turn porn into songs, or songs into porn and make videos about them. The message rings loud and clear throughout our land...sexual deviance is the norm.
This message reaches young adolescent boys...and girls. It teaches them what most parents fail to on the topic of sex. They set out on their worldly journey seeking to fulfill their own sexual fantasies. Sexual gratification becomes their ultimate goal. Society fails to emphasize the value of genuine love, compatibility, and the importance of human companionship. These young people become husbands and fathers, wives and mothers, who somewhere along the way become disillusioned when sex fails to fill the void they find in their lives. They then often turn to pornography. Many become obsessed. Many allow it to destroy their marriages, their families...their lives. Pornography is every bit as addictive, every bit as destructive as drugs.
Porn is not going to go away. It is our duty as parents to educate our kids on its dangers. It is our duty to instill moral values into our children's lives. We must teach our sons respect for the opposite sex and we must teach our daughters not to succumb to the pressures of society, of her peers, nor of that boy who has caught her eye. This is our mission as parents...to instill moral values into the very fabric of our children. So far, we are successfully failing them!

'Where'd You Hide The Money Honey?'

 

With Author Rodney Strange   

I read on Time.com that somewhere around 44% of all husbands hide money from their wives. Well, I don't blame them...and there goes 50% of my reader fan base. So, now that it's just us guys...y'all know what I mean, don't you! Sure, sweetie has her own job and her own money. We all know what's hers is hers and when it's gone, what's yours is hers. And that's just the way it is.
I'm not looking for a fight here. I don't recall whether the author of the article I read was male or female, but I'd bet on the latter. It was a man-slamming piece intended to enlighten women to the fact that we men are holding out on them. In fact, in a follow-up article, our wives are tipped off to the revelation that 23% of husbands actually have a secret bank account, which from my point of view seems to be a smart move if we're going to hide our money from our wives in a secure manner. I do know of one man who just hides his money in the drawer his wife keeps her sexy lingerie in. He says he's done it for years and she's yet to find it.
We of the male gender are non-aggressive people. We really don't like confrontation especially with the opposite sex for there is no such thing as winning with them. It should be simple.
."Honey, this hundred dollar bill is mine. I worked hard for it all week. You can have the rest of my paycheck to do whatever you want with it....deal?"
Now come on guys, you know how that's going to go down. All that did was set the wheels in motion. She won't say anything but she's thinking it. Now she's convincing herself that you have a girlfriend on the side. A hundred bucks would buy your girlfriend some flowers...and lunch. Yep, you're probably spending your lunch hours with the new chick down in Human Resources. You sorry dog!
In reality, your wife's birthday is next month and you know how difficult it is to put back a little cash for her special day. If you could just stash a few twenties back from a paycheck or two, you could really surprise her with a steak from her favorite restaurant and maybe get her those diamond earrings she's been wanting. For deep down in your heart, you yearn to show her how much you love her.
Meanwhile, she is plotting your demise! How dare you so blatantly take a hundred dollars of your own money! Yes, she is convinced you are cheating on her! She'll show you, buddy boy! When she's through with you, she'll have the house, the Suburban, and you'll be paying child support for decades! And so to avoid all that you do what I would do. You slip a few bills out here and there and tuck them away. You don't tell her and pray she doesn't find out, for there will surely be hell to pay. It's so much easier keeping it a secret, right?
I had a wife once...well, I've had more than one. But this particular wife (shudder) was the one who taught me a thing or two. For instance...how to hide money and yes, even open up a secret account to keep it in. This wife really liked money! I couldn't tell seeing how we never had any. It all started about this time of year, back in 1992, I think it was. It was a Friday evening and after supper, I decided I'd set down and start preparing my tax return. I gathered the necessary stuff together and stacked them on the dining table, hunted down my solar-powered calculator, and stood staring at the task awaiting me. Glancing over at my wife, who was doing the dishes, I announced,
"Honey, I think I might run and get a six pack of beer before I start this."
She froze, her eyes staring straight ahead, in thought.
"Oh, I don't know if that's a good idea. This week is going to be pretty tight with the money. It would run us short."
I stared down at the W-2 form laying on the table...A hundred thousand and change in 1991. Back in '92 that was like a quarter million, right? My mind pondered the fact that it was Friday...payday...and we couldn't afford a three dollar six pack of beer?
So over the course of the next few days, I started snooping and discovered I had credit cards I never knew I had. Every credit card known to man! Sears, J C Penny, Discover (gasp!) and of course the typical Visas and Mastercards. I also discovered most were overdue. In the course of my investigation, I'd occasionally gander around the house in search of a clue as to where the money was going. Nope, no clues. Perhaps she was hiding money from me?
Over two decades later I still don't have the answer. But within a week of my discovery back in '92 I had opened a secret bank account and began socking away my bonuses and every other spare dime I came across. Over the course of the next year, I accumulated an impressive nest egg in spite of my wife's addiction to spending. To make a long story short, I kicked the wife to the curb a year or so later, paid off all her debts...and as luck would have it, wound up with another wife. But this time it was different. I made it clear to her up front that if we were going to get in it for the long haul, there'd be a few rules, number one: My money was my money and her money was her money, and if she ran out of her money, my money was not her money. Believe it or not, everything rocked along exceptionally well financially. Not once did we squabble about money. And we lived happily ever after for seven years...The End

'Spicy Words'

Out here in west Texas, we tend to say what's on our mind and say it in a way that leaves little doubt that we are pretty serious about saying it. We tend to embellish and we tend to flavor our sentences with spicy words now and then. Fact is, we've been known to punctuate here and there with words that may not be acceptable spoken around preachers and our mamas. Yes, cursing is as much part of many of us out here as chicken fried steak. But...let me clarify by saying ...when we cuss around here...we tend to cuss good.
What is the difference between good cussing and bad cussing? I think the vast majority of us from around these parts know there is a time and place for everything, even for uttering one of those 'spicy words.' I'd say my social circle is pretty much the norm, as normal as any group of Texans gathered together could be. When the guys get together, talk may become as spicy as a delicately blended habanero sauce...but we know when the ladies come around, it's time to clean it up. We never cuss around the preacher, women, or children ...it's the way we were taught. I call that good cussing.
There's not a foul word that could be spoken that I haven't heard...or tossed out into the right crowd myself. But I must admit, in recent years, I heard words thrown around in everyday language that makes me blush. I see these words in print, generally with the user's name and photo proudly displayed right beside it. Yes, twitter and facebook have become a devil's playground for those who have never been taught better. What makes me sad is often these most vulgar words are being used by our kids...teens and even tweens. I learned my lesson the hard way. My parents were good, upstanding Christian people and I never heard a curse word escape from either of their mouths, but as I ventured into my teen years, naturally I began to pick up a few 'spicy' words here and there. I had a friend whose parents were, I'll say, pretty easy going. They said nothing about us smoking around them, drinking a beer, or saying a few colorful words in the course of conversation. So, me being the dumb neighbor kid, uttered a word out loud to my friend within hearing range of his mother one day. It was, what the evening news now likes to refer to as 'The F-Bomb.' That woman dropped the boom she was sweeping the porch with and approached me in a fury, wagging her finger in my face.
"Let me tell you, young man, I don't know what the rules are at your house, but around here THAT WORD is NEVER spoken around ladies!"
My eyes grew wide and perhaps even teared up momentarily as I stood there and took my tongue lashing. It would be a lashing I would never forget. That, my friends, was bad cussing.
I've tried really hard lately to obliterate all curse words from my everyday language and it's been a real challenge. Decades of letting loose with 'ample spice' to enhance my verbiage have proven this to be a hard habit to break.
The preacher found it his place to address this topic last Sunday, and while he chose his words carefully, with a congregation of hardcore west Texans listening to his sermon, he reminded us all that as Christians, we're better than that. In fact, he challenged us all to make an effort to enrich our vocabulary by discovering new and exciting words to add the 'spice' we seem so tempted to include in our everyday conversations. He reminded us we have a duty as Christians to set a shining example to the rest of the world. Then, with a smile, he reminded us that it wasn't his rule...it was God's.
Ephesians 4 Verses 29-31 says this: 29 Let no corrupt word proceed out of your mouth, but what is good for necessary edification, that it may impart grace to the hearers. 30 And do not grieve the Holy Spirit of God, by whom you were sealed for the day of redemption. 31 Let all bitterness, wrath, anger, clamor, and evil speaking be put away from you, with all malice. 32 And be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, even as God in Christ forgave you.

Perhaps we as a society should work on finding some new 'spices' to enhance the flavor of our vocabulary with. Can you accept this challenge? I think I can, by-golly-G-bum!

 

'ill will'

With author Rodney Strange (Authors note: I may have embellished this story a tad bit.)   

I have reached the point of exasperation brought on by undue provocation! Yes, harassment in its utmost form, uncut, undiluted...dealt out with the precision of a North Korean rocket. I've been carpet bombed from all directions and I've found it necessary to go underground for my own protection...so....shhh! I'm hiding. I've let my phone battery die. Parked my pickup way back by the cotton field so folks can't drive by and see that I'm really home. I sit here in the dark to avoid raising any suspicion. I'm making an earnest effort to stay off facebook, you know that's a dead giveaway!
"Oh, look! He didn't die of a massive heart attack while taking his morning dump! He's right here on facebook! See that little green dot?"
I've had a rash of misfortune, well not me directly although it is affecting me directly. I've got so many family members and friends in the hospital, we're needing an entire wing dedicated to us. Problem is, they're scattered out in hospitals all across west Texas. This would be a whole lot easier on me if I could just get them all grouped together...in a single room would be ideal. You know how folks are when they're in the hospital. They're NEEDY! Well, they think they are. Fact is, they really don't need anything. Three meals a day, free open-air apparel, and literally someone there to answer their every beck and call, even empty their bedpan. And they have drugs, high powered drugs that make them delusional. They think weird stuff, like for instance..they think I should be right there, sitting in the room, watching them be sick. Can you relate?
I know I'm twisted a bit different than some. I see entire families up at the hospital, a dozen at a time! The kids all gathered around the foot of grandma's bed staring at the little bitty TV hanging from the ceiling while their mothers huddle around the lavatory mixing up baby formula. Uncle Louie is grilling steaks on a propane grill over by the window. Grandma's snoring, oblivious to the chaos surrounding her thanks to an overdose of hydrocodone. That's what family's for...I heard you think that.
I don't come from a big family and what family I have is in the hospital except for me and my daughter. We're stretched pretty thin right now. There's a map hanging in the kitchen and every day the two of us gather around it.
"Okay, you hit this hospital then make your way across the city to this one." I trace a route with my finger, "and I will take this one...this one..and that one."
Yes, we've had to split up to cover more distance. Have I mentioned it's forty miles to the nearest hospital? I'm always the last one to finish because, hey she's seventeen. Pop in..."Hi, thought I'd stop by. Gotta run!"
The sick people don't expect much from her because she's a busy girl and they know it. Me on the other hand...I got nothing better to do but sit in a bed-a-chair and watch people be sick. Forget that I'm a single dad of a teenaged daughter. Sure the laundry can wait until everyone is well. Did I mention I have a teenaged daughter? Try letting her laundry go for a few days. No groceries left in my house? A job? Bills to write and mail off? It can all wait! WE'RE SICK! Oh, by the way...could you pay a few of my bills on the way home when you leave?
Invariably you see parts of sick people's bodies that you just can't unsee when they're in the hospital. Hospitals smell funny. I just can't quite put my finger on that smell. Alien-like machines make sounds I'm not accustomed to. The other day, bells and whistles and strobe lights went off while I was just sitting in a hospital room wishing I wasn't there. Thought I'd won the jackpot until an army of nurses invaded the darkened room like a swat team. I casually rose from my chair and mentioned I needed to mosey on home..."Would you tell him if he wakes up?"
I've been a patient in a hospital several times throughout my life and honestly...I really don't want anybody staring at me while I puke in a gray tray the size of a ring box. Just let me be. I know there are people qualified to care for me just down the hall. I don't need spectators gawking at me while I drool on a hospital gown under the influence of morphine. I certainly don't want anyone sitting beside me in a bed-a-chair impatiently sighing in disgust, thinking 'Either get well or die...I got things to do!'
Nope, just give me a laptop and my magic vape stick. Send in a few pretty nurses every now and then to flirt with. I have a soft spot for nurses. They are all utterly undatable, mind you. Been there and done that and got the scars to prove it. I dunno, maybe it's the scrubs that turn me on.
So, my phone is charged...let's see. A voice message: "I know you're hiding from me! I need you to go over to my house and pick up the mail and drop it by so I can sign some checks. You need to pay my bills for me. Needs to be done today!"
Oh, and a text: 'Dad, you should see all these hot doctors up here! I need clean clothes BTW.'
I suppose sooner or later this will all pass...like a large gall stone. There are headlights coming down my road...it's the cops! One of those sick screwballs called 911 on me...making my get-a-way out the back door! Wish me luck!

'Oxymoron: Real News'

Have we not seen our fill of 'fake news' this week? The media has inundated our social timelines with pure crap lately and I think its time we begin to ask ourselves, "Is this even news?"
Covington Catholic High School closed its doors Tuesday out of concern for the safety of its students after the now infamous encounter between a handful of their students and some native American wanna be 'Vietnam Vet' on the warpath apparently suffering a flashback set off by their red 'MAGA' caps. Some national media outlets ran with this brief confrontation due simply to the fact that these kids were wearing red Trump hats. Without any consideration to the damage they were about to cause to the reputation of these boys and the school itself, they unleashed a barrage of slanted news stories alerting the nation that these children were terrorizing an elderly Vietnam veteran, hurling racial slurs at him. I mean from the media's point of view, these boys surely must be racists. After all, they were wearing the red caps, the new stylish fashion that has replaced the white hoods of supremacists...to hear them tell it.
And as the dust settles, I must draw attention to the fact that this never was newsworthy. Had it never been for those red caps, nothing would have ever been said about the incident. I've seen the videos...nothing happened. No punches were thrown, no verbal exchanges, no rioting masses...just some old man beating a drum in the face of a teenager who happened to cross his path. No, this was never news.
Have you heard Vice-President Pence's wife has a new job? Imagine how boring our social timelines would be if everyone who started a new job had a story posted on Facebook. Ah, but she landed a job teaching at a Christian school...nope, still not news. But the fact that this Christian school has policies in place that adhere to their Christian principles, including an unfavorable view of homosexuality suddenly made this story newsworthy in the eyes of the national media. Really, what do you expect from a Christian school? Lady Gaga has gone public with her opinion, calling Pence a sorry example of a Christian. Lady Gaga, shut up. None of us care what you think, not one of us. Go get yourself another tattoo or whatever you do to pass your time. This story was never, ever news. Why did we have to be exposed to it?
Fox news slipped in Ruth Ginsburg graphic during an unrelated segment saying Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg is dead. They blamed it on a control room error but the question flitting through my mind is, why was this particular graphic just laying around anyway. I wonder if there is such a picture with my name on it and the date of my impending death? Obviously, this wasn't news since she is still around, but yet another example of sloppy journalism that floods our nation.
Even Blake Shelton had to correct Billboard, yes that trusted source of music news we've all come to believe as the gospel of the music industry. Billboard erroneously reported that Blake and George Strait had signed on with Paradigm Talent Agency in Nashville to represent their touring interests. Blake Shelton came back with this; "When did fact checking go out of style? My god... One phone [call] would tell them this isn’t true. Please be careful about what you believe on the internet, everybody. Unreal."
I was destined to become one of the great journalists of my generation according to my high school journalism teacher, Miss Marshall. Personally, I am thankful I chose another profession for I would have never fit into the mold that today's news reporters come from. She taught me to write unbiased news and allow the reader to form their own opinions. The news has not been written in this fashion for some time, but the profession continues to unravel at an accelerated pace, as we can see from just these examples over the course of one week. Today's theory in the news profession is quantity over quality. Thousands upon thousands or articles flood our social media daily, many without any merit and most of no value to anyone. Little of the garbage I see is news, just someone's opinion. The Washington Post apparently has given up on calling their fodder news. Everything I see on my timeline starts with 'Opinion - Blah, blah...' And if I click on the link, they want me to pay them a dollar to read someone's opinion that I know I'm not going to agree with. Damned Jeff Bezos and his schemes to make another buck.
We, the American public must treat everything we read with a grain of salt. We must question the validity of what we read. We must form our own opinions and not allow ourselves to be swayed by the beliefs of some fruitcake journalist. And finally, we must ask ourselves...is this really news? As Blake Shelton said, "Please be careful about what you believe on the internet, everybody. Unreal."

'The Harder They Fall'

The bigger they are, the harder they fall. The more powerful and successful people are, the more they suffer when they experience defeat and disaster. Just ask Jeff, Mark, and Tim, some of the world's most powerful giants. Each of these men has stumbled recently and while none of them will ever miss a meal or a mortgage payment on their mansions, they have suffered significant setbacks. The latest being Jeff Bezos.
Jeff may not see the full impact of his infidelity at the moment. He is, after all, off on a lustful tryst with his neighbor. He has no worries, with thousands of qualified employees to run his trillion dollar company. His 'newspaper,' and I use the term loosely, 'The Washington Post,' has obviously lacked any leadership for some time and likely won't miss a beat nor an opportunity to opinionize politics as they see fit while their owner is off co-piloting around the world with the new love of his life. Even when the divorce is finalized, Jeff will still have a paltry seventy billion bucks to woo his new girlfriend with. But when the dust settles, Bezos will have to forfeit his title of 'Richest Man in the World.' The wife he leaves behind will take her rightful spot as the fourth wealthiest person in the world and according to sources, will capture the top spot as the wealthiest woman in the world. While the private affairs of Amazon's founder are certainly none of my business, two thoughts flitter through my mind; If Jeff Bezos were nothing more than a door-to-door vacuum cleaner salesman, would his bombshell of a neighbor ever given him a second glance? And secondly, I ponder what would be the proper waiting period before I make my move on MacKenzie Bezos once her divorce is finalized? And I wonder how long the line to her door will be?
Mark Zuckerberg saw the value of Facebook, the company he gave birth to, fall by 120 billion dollars in 2018. Had he been able to thwart off the multitudes of lawsuits the company has encountered since its conception, he'd probably reign as supreme leader of the world's wealth. Faced with three dozen class action lawsuits in 2018, plus numerous others, Facebook saw its stock values plummet last year. Just last month Attorney General Karl Racine was suing Facebook, accusing the social media giant of wide-ranging privacy violations. But Mark is determined...and extremely greedy. And he just doesn't get it, even as his shares lost as much as forty percent of their value over the course of last year. He was summoned to Washington DC to explain why he put the lives of 2.27 billion daily users up on the auction block, for sale to the highest bidder. He faced a mass exodus of key leaders within his organization, including the original founders of WhatsApp and Instagram. The list of setbacks is too lengthy to bore you with but you can read more here (https://goo.gl/jD3cn6) In a nutshell Facebook the Giant has stumbled. I would bet the farm that in spite of a flawed business model, Mark Zuckerberg will never cease to follow the same path his company is on, not until Facebook draws its final breath.
Tim Cook, Mr. Apple himself, also stood by and watched his trillion dollar company begin to crumble as Apple's shares took a nosedive after the release of a series of iPhones retailing for more than what I bought my first car for. Fueled by the belief that folks all over the world would willingly trade in their perfectly good phones every year to keep pace with their BFF's, Apple continuously raised the retail price on their phones, which probably cost around a hundred bucks to produce, until finally, we got smarter than their smartphones. While Apple's year wasn't as dramatic a that of Facebook, the company received a wakeup call when its stock plunged to a four year low after lackluster results of their newly released line of phones. Still, the company we all love is worth a trillion dollars and Tim Cook is still king as long as his husband doesn't follow MacKenzie Bezos lead.
Nothing on this earth is forever, just ask Sears, which after 126 years is facing liquidation. Its a sad event for had Sears played their cards right there never would have been an Amazon. The top brass at Sears fell asleep at the wheel and rather than steering a company that pioneered the concept of shopping at home as far back as the late 1800s, they banked on forcing everyone in America to carry that dreaded Sears Card in their wallets, a credit line with interest rates so exorbitant that literally drove households to the brink of destitution. I notice of late that Amazon has followed the ill ways of Sears, touting their own Amazon charge card. It will be interesting to see if Jeff Bezos can recoup some of that fortune his wife is destined to pack into a moving van. Ah, but I stray.
There are those in these times who have claimed the title of gods, little g. With their fortunes came fame and as humans, flawed as we all are, they confused fortune and fame with power. Bezos with his Washington Post feels he has the power to change the world...and the way we should think. His mighty Amazon.com threatens to destroy the retail world as we know it, driving countless brick-and-mortar retail companies to extinction. Zuckerberg sees the world as few others do and has taken on the challenge to sway our thoughts and beliefs, censoring anything that goes against what he wants us to become. His social platform reeks of liberalism and to the most naive of us, paints a fictional picture of what our world is. And Tim Cook, who proudly boasts of his homosexuality, defends the banning of certain speech and news media on Apple platforms when they violate the "values" of their company. 'Not banning those who violate Apple's values is a sin.' We must all be, in his tainted and twisted opinion, what he wants us to be.
Is it a coincidence that these giants who rumble throughout our land spewing their foul ideologies upon us have stumbled? I think not. And when they fall, they will fall hard.

'Are You Ready to Rumble?'

Are you ready to rumble? No, this story is not about billionaire owner of the NFL Jaguars, who just days ago announced the creation of a new professional wrestling company called All Elite Wrestling. I am sort of excited about that even though this new wrestling venture has some pretty stiff competition. Yes, I'm talking about the United States Congress.
At almost the exact moment Jaguars owner Tony Khan announced his desire to turn his attention to pro wrestling, Democrats were bringing in their own heavyweights. Representative Jennifer Wexton hung an LBGT flag outside her office door. Congress, Kyrsten Sinema, the Democrat from Arizona, made the unusual choice to take her oath of office using a book containing the texts of the U.S. and Arizona constitutions rather than the Bible. She is the first openly bisexual person in the Senate. Rep. Rashida Tlaib, (D-Mich.) the first-ever Palestinian-American woman in Congress, called President Donald Trump a 'mother-you-know-what' and promptly hung a Palestinian flag outside her office door. And then there's the rising star of the All-New Liberal Democratic Party... Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez. Yes, Mother Pelosi has assembled quite a team.
We can readily see where these women's' priorities lay by the flags they've chosen to fly and the books they chose to swear a solemn oath on. The status quo of America is likely at risk as these women take their seats vacated by, what the press reminds us of constantly, 'old white men.' But none have been so verbally outspoken of their agenda as Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez or AOC, a label applied to her by a media too lazy to continually type out her lengthy name. But isn't she just a doll? She reminds me of everyone's favorite drunk girl at the party, always good for a laugh. She can dance, too, a quality that caught my eye. I don't know if she can Texas Two-step, my personal favorite dance step, but I bet she could pick it up in a jiffy. She does have a few flaws, like my ex-wife, who's brain ran like a four-cylinder engine with a fouled spark plug. My ex wasn't a dumb person, she just misfired occasionally. And so does Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, who like any socialist worth her salt, wants to give us all free stuff. Except for very wealthy people. She wants to take 70 percent of their wealth.
I don't think for a moment that Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez is dumb. I think she is highly intelligent...and extremely dangerous. I read numerous news articles covering her adventures and scrolling down to the readers' comments, I am somewhat amazed at the loyal following she is garnering. Folks like free stuff and she is promising the moon. She is also promising something she cannot deliver.
She is the Democratic Party's worst nightmare, a party struggling to regain a foothold after many missteps. The party needs credibility and stability...and more voters. A self-proclaimed radical who is too radical for even the far-left? It's likely they never saw this coming. From Vox (https://goo.gl/zY2QDs) - 'Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez (D-NY) is fine with being called a “radical,” believes President Donald Trump is racist, and is okay with sometimes fudging facts as long as she is “morally right.” And no, she has no idea how America would pay for everything she wants to give away 'for free.' Her words..."why should she be forced to do the math on every single thing she puts forward?"
Well, she's a Millenial, what do you expect. My daughter has wagged her finger at me numerous times for stereotyping, but I repeat, she's a Millenial. Just weeks ago I wrote an article warning that Millenials are beginning to make their way into positions of leadership and here she is. With absolutely no clue how to pay for all the changes they want to put in place, they are adamant and, regardless of the fact, will stomp their feet and demand results. How did we get here?
Those misfits of our generations, the fouled spark plugs we tossed aside, made their way into our universities and spewed their misguided ideas onto our children. They drilled their twisted philosophies into the minds of these naive young men and women. They cursed the very foundation on which America was built on and vowed there was a better way. Socialism, a failed system in every instance of history, was planted as a seed in the brains of these who now line up to oust those who stand in their way.
The media, not always shining a positive light on Ms. Ocasio-Cortez, nonetheless fuels her fame. It is perhaps the very worst move we as a society can make...to give a voice to one who perhaps unwittingly will destroy the very fabric of our great nation if she is allowed to succeed. Any idiot can stand on a street corner and babble. It doesn't mean we need to give them a microphone.
Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez is just a sign of what is to come. Bernie Sanders patiently waits for 2020. But just as Republicans spar with one another for their place on the ballot, and main-stream 'conservative' Democrats battle one another as their parties choice for presidential candidate, so shall, I believe, the Socialists.
Thankfully, Ms. Ocasio-Codrtez will not meet the age qualifications to run for president in 2020, but I predict another whose beliefs parallel hers will rise like a phoenix...or like Barack Obama did in 2009. His name?
“There is a fundamental choice in this election. It’s a choice between - we’re seeing nationally, socialists - like Bernie Sanders, like Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, and indeed, Congressman Beto O’Rourke..." Senator Ted Cruz (https://goo.gl/FtV6bp)

I have all these streaming channels and can't find wrestling on any of them. Oh, here's CSPAN. That'll do.

'Stories I Cannot Tell'

 

With the aroma of blackeyed peas and cabbage wafting throughout the house on this New Year's Day, I sit beside the artificial fireplace gazing at an artificial fire, wondering among other things...so why are my feet still cold? Just a fleeting thought that interrupts my reflection of a year that is now nothing more than history. It was a year of change and accomplishment, and a year of newfound freedom. Exactly one year ago on this New Years Day was my first day of official retirement. Elated, excited, and hopeful, I set out on a new adventure as 2018 made its appearance. And yes, it was indeed, a year of adventure. As a storyteller, I yearn to share so many stories with you, but alas, there are stories I cannot tell.
This day one year ago was much like today, with just myself and Stinky the Boston Terrier, my loyal companion, celebrating a holiday of no substance. I suppose mankind in his feeblest of reasoning, deems the mere survival of 365 days a major accomplishment worthy of celebration. Or perhaps the creation of such holiday was simply to nurse a massive nationwide hangover. And while I personally think New Years Day is a foolish holiday, I will not allow the day to end without consuming black-eyed peas and cabbage. Call me foolish, but I simply cannot take a chance of screwing up an entire year by not partaking in this necessary tradition. Ah, but I stray from the topic.
The highlights of this past year that I can tell you about...well, let's see. I have to be cautious, there are stories I cannot tell. As the new began to wear off of the new year and my retirement plaque hung prominently on the wall of my man cave, I and my faithful, flatulent companion began settling into a comfortable routine, weathering the winter months with me writing frivolous nonsense and Stinky hibernating, both dreaming of spring and warmer weather. When spring finally came, my daughter came with it, home from college. Stinky and I welcomed the refreshing change and happily realigned our mundane existence to accommodate her return to the nest. And with the three of us dreaming of a summer filled with all things that make summer great, came a very unexpected surprise that would send our beautiful world spinning out of control. I believe it was on my birthday...
She appeared at my door...with a large suitcase. She had left back in 2001 in search of bigger and better things and now here she was, seventeen years later, on my doorstep, the mother of my child. Imagine that. You'll have to because most of it is a story I cannot tell.
It was just temporary, she said. She just needed a place to stay for a while, she promised, as she staked her claim within my man cave, tossing everything dear to me into the hallway. "Just a mattress on the floor would be fine," she said, and "Is this all the closet space you have? I have lots more stuff I need to bring over."
Here I sit writing stories I cannot tell and almost scorched the blackeyed peas. I think they'll be okay. I have to eat them anyway. I need some good luck this year. A man from church just left. He stopped by to see why I hadn't been coming to church lately.
"Well," I paused, debating whether I could tell him the story before continuing, "I was involved in a horrible explosion back on July 4th. My ex, the mother of my child, blew me up. In fact, she blew us both up with a really huge firework mishap. I haven't been able to hear since, so really didn't see a reason to go."
Yes, it's true and just an example of stories that I cannot tell. But I hear better now. The doctor said my ears would likely heal over time as he scribbled a prescription for nasal spray. I've been squirting it in my ears for six months and finally, last week thought I'd try squirting it up my nose, and believe it or not, it's working.
As an author, I constantly search for something entertaining or meaningful to write about. In the past, perhaps I've not scrutinized my subject matter as thoroughly as I should have. The eight months that I shared with a woman who I loved deeply at one time and who I still value her friendship tremendously, did indeed offer some fabulous fodder for a storyteller like myself. There were adventures I never dreamed I'd ever experienced, some were good...some not even close. But I'll not jeopardize a valued friendship to give you and those other 160,000 people who stopped by to read my stories in 2018 a chuckle. For I have learned the hard way that words hurt. Sometimes very deeply.
So, the story I tell today is not the story that weighs heavily on my mind, but I cannot tell that story. I told a story once that perhaps shouldn't have been told and well, stories sometimes come back to haunt you. It was a reminder of something that as an author I already knew...there are stories I cannot tell.
Ah, but there are still plenty of stories for me to share with you in 2019. So, cinch that saddle up tight and hang on!

"So, let me get this straight," raising her voice above the country music booming over a speaker, the attractive brunette pointed at the dance floor. "The woman dancing with that fine looking cowboy is your ex?"
I nodded.
"...and she lives with you?"
"Yep," I replied.
"And you're over here putting the moves on me?"