Rodney Strange's Blog, page 13

'Just Hear Us Out'

 

The first week of summer really started off with a bang...don't you agree? I mean, like...wow...Taylor Swift naked! I have to admit I've never purposely listened to a Kanye West song before and only for research purposes did I take a moment of my time to catch this newest 'break the internet' video that has the world reeling in shock and awe. I didn't get much out of the song and strangely enough, the music ran out long before the video did. I really didn't need that visual of Bill Cosby in his birthday suit haunting me until my last breath and frankly, the whole thing would have been far more appealing if Taylor had actually sang. But, all in all, even with a cast of all-stars baring their bodies, I was sadly disappointed. it's no wonder poor Kanye is fifty some-odd million dollars in debt.
And then there were the British who decided they no longer wished to be a part of Europe. All this time, us Texans have been spouting off about succeeding from the union and leave it to the English to show us up. I must confess that I haven't researched this world shaking event enough to commentate on it...I mean, had there been a video of naked british people sleeping to Kanye West's video-diddy, I probably would be much more versed. But it seems to have stirred folks up from all four corners of the world. But I think I get the gist of it. I'll come back to this topic in a moment but first I wish to touch on the big event of the week.
Over a thousand religious leaders gathered together to hash it out with the Donald in New York and I've read numerous reports that those who attended walked out of that meeting with a feeling of hope. For the first time in eight years, a man who wants to be president, wants to be a president for every one of us. Not just a president for Muslims, for the LGBT community, for 'the right to choose,' nor just for his constituents who oppose the second amendment. Mr. Trump made it clear that he also wants to be president for...wait for it...the Christian community. We've not heard that in a very long time.
Now, I've told you before that I don't talk politics and some of you will point out that I'm talking politics right now. This rant isn't about Trump. It's about a thousand Christians from all across the nation who trekked to New York City to stand in unison..to STAND. Names even the heathens will recognize: Franklin Graham, David Barnes, James Dobson, Dr. George Barna, Jerry Farwell Jr, and Mike Huckabee stood collectively with the multitudes and told the man who wants to be president what we, the Christians of this nation, see to be the downfall of our great land. Descriptive words like "Disillusionment"..."transformational shift"... "anything goes morality" ... "confusion and chaos"..."disengagement"... "polarized" and "highly contentious" painted a crystal clear picture for the man at the podium.
Concerns were addressed on such issues as our waning religious liberties, the apparent abandonment of our constitution, rogue supreme justices, the selling of aborted baby parts, inner city violence, and terrorism. Strengthening our military, boosting our nation's economy, jobs...it seems no stone was left unturned. You see, the Christian community isn't all about prayer in school or the Ten Commandments on the courthouse square. We're Americans! We want what's best for our country. Morality is a great place to start. Yes, we stand for the traditional definition of marriage. Sure, we tout pro-life. And, more than a few of us are partial to our guns. But we also stand firmly in defense of womens' rights....and veterans' rights We wish to stamp out poverty and racism. We are patriotic to a fault and we love our country...and we want it back.
A thousand representatives of our faith stood before the man who wants to be president and spoke...and he listened. He vowed to to eliminate the Johnson amendment that prohibits pastors from speaking on political issues. He promised to appoint constitution upholding, conservative Supreme Court Justices, he pledged to focus on issues facing America's inner cities. He reinforced his dedication to fighting terrorism and drugs.
Just as Great Britian wants its country back, as it seeks to regain it's freedom and independence, as it searches for the dawn of a new day...so do we, your fellow Christian Americans. We want someone to listen...LISTEN to us. Understand what we as a country need and then do his damdest to make it happen. America wasn't built out of rainbows, nor under the direction of the Quran. American was built as a nation under God. Christian Americans don't take to the streets with homemade signs touting our rights. We just find a man who will listen. We searched for someone who would listen to us for eight years. Truthfully, I never thought it would be Donald Trump.
And wouldn't you know it...as the camera panned slowly across Taylor's naked body, another nude figure came into focus...and there he was, naked as a jay bird...Donald Trump. Really Kanye? I think I'm gonna get in line with the others to sue you for what you've done to me! You think you're broke now, buddy...

 

'Glorious Summertime'

Remember summertime back in the good old days when you were a kid? Magical, mystical, glorious summertime! The sounds of kids playing outside, the sound of an ice cream truck turning your corner, the smell of a fresh cut lawn, the smell of burgers cooking on the grill…summer!
Playing in the water sprinkler, the slip and slide, an afternoon at the city pool, or waist deep in your grandpa’s pond…summer! Tadpoles and lightening bugs, the sound of frogs croaking after a summer shower, June bugs spinning idiotically beneath the yellow porch light, a ladybug in the palm of your hand…summer!
Sleeping in the back yard in a tent under a full moon, a cane pole down at the creek at the edge of town, catching crawdads and giggin’ frogs…summer! Snow cones, peanuts in your coke, watermelon, and fried okra, and fresh peaches right off the tree…summer!
And then you grew up. You got a job, got married, got some kids. You cooked and cleaned, folded laundry…and played Farmville. Outside became the distance from your car to the door. The heat made you sweat and the weeds made you sneeze. You never took the time to watch a sunset and the lights of the city blocked out the stars at night. Summer had become…just summer.
You can go back, you know. It’s not too late. I did! Yes, the feeling that always came over me when I was a kid…I found it. And I…LOVE SUMMER!
My advice to you…let it all go! The dishes, the lawn, the bills…well, maybe not the bills…put everything aside for just a few minutes every day and rediscover summer! Get outside and sweat until you smell! Get dirty! Then rinse off with the water hose! Go to the city park, go to a state park, go fishing! Flag down the ice cream truck, just push your way through that crowd of pesky children. Watch the birds, watch the squirrels, watch the smokin’ hot neighbor wash her car. Take her a glass of lemonade and sit on the porch and talk!
Summer is a gift from God. Why would we not take advantage of such an awesome gift? It’s a wonderful time to fulfill your bucket list…or start one. Walk, run, ride a bike. Cook something outside. Watch the stars. Find the constellations. Catch a grasshopper and watch a baby bird learn to fly.
And play with your kids…if you want to recapture that magical excitement of summers long gone, start with your kids. They may not know just how special summer is…show them. Teach them how to make a whistle from a blade of grass. Point out the wildflowers on the side of the road. Make homemade ice cream. Make memories. Make your heart and theirs burst into bloom…bond…live!
Life is just too short to waste a summer day. I gotta go…ride my bike.  

'All Grown Up'

Do you remember the day you moved out of your parents' house? Got your own pad (Do we still say that?) Most of you will readily recall that glorious day...some of you haven't experienced that particular feeling of freedom, yet. I mean, really, thirty is plenty old enough to venture out on your own, Wilber...get a life!
I recall my venture into the world at the age of seventeen years of age. Looking back, that may have been a bit premature, but hey, I have lots of stories to tell about those days. (Buy my book, Nineteen Seventy Something...blatant plug by author.) On that memorable day, I carried a cardboard box containing all my belongings from the trunk of my '69 Plymouth Roadrunner into my new party house, which had been haphazardly converted from an abandoned chicken house. The shack had three rooms, two of which were smaller than the closet in my bedroom. I dropped the box onto an ancient wrought iron bed and plopped down beside it and exhaled a satisfied smile. There I sat in a chicken coop I could call my own...I was all grown up!
This week brought back those memories as one of my own set out in search of bigger and better things. Sure, I was right there to help him along. I paid the first month's rent and helped him pack up. That was a chore, packing twelve years worth of junk and moving it from one place to another. Yes at the age of twelve we both thought it was time he set out on a new adventure.
The Rusty Goat website has sat quietly within the shadows of his parent, TexasGoat.com as a sub-domain since his conception back in 2004. The site began as a simple page containing goat jokes...just goat jokes. Back in those days, the goat business was booming with the introduction of the South African Boer goat into the United States. I, along with countless other dreamers, jumped headfirst into the Boer goat business in search of fortune. I created TexasGoat.com to market my goats and things got a little out of hand. TexasGoat.com became a number one ranked website in its niche, with thousands of goat enthusiasts flocking to the site in search of goat information. All those goat entrepreneurs found the Rusty Goat Jokes entertaining and it became one of the most visited pages on the Texas Goat site.
The Boer goat boom and a marriage both crashed about the same time somewhere around 2010. While the divorce was my doings, the crash of the goat market wasn't and to my dismay, the Texas Goat site grew quiet...much like Twitter after those forty something million folks' accounts got locked down. But I didn't have time to fret over such trivial things as a dying website. I, now a single man, had to rediscover how to live a single life. With my forties in my rearview mirror, I found myself devastated at the prospect of having to actually go out and chase women. I was old, after all! Quite sure that no woman would want me, I resolved myself to living the life of a monk in solitude. Yeah, after about six months of that, I began to reconsider my options.
I remember the Saturday night I dug the old black cowboy hat out from the top shelf in the closet. Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, staring hopelessly at the crows feet around my eyes and the graying hair that remained on my head, I reluctantly plopped the hat on my head. I cocked it a little lower on my brow and forced a grin.
"I dunno," I mumbled to myself. "Pretty rusty at this sort of thing...chasing women."
"You're a fool," I told myself, "Just an old goat...a damned old rusty goat!"
And that's how it all started. I'd head out every Saturday night to the dance hall, spin a woman or ten around the dance floor, buy them a beer and sneak a kiss now and then. I'd come home and sit up till the sun rose the next morning...writing about my adventures...the Adventures of the Rusty Goat. And I'd publish them on the Rusty Goat. My stories became an instant hit with lots of folks on the internet. And I became the Rusty Goat.
A lot has changed over the years. I've pretty much given up chasing women. Let's face it, after dancing with a thousand or so...and the only women I can catch now are pretty old. The Rusty Goat website has mushroomed into a gigantic online magazine, burning up server space and bandwidth at warp speed. Hosted on some obscure server in Hong Kong, the site threatened to exceed its quota every month, forcing it into darkness until the next month. I couldn't promote it like I wanted for fear it would stumble into a black hole for eternity.
Moving a website from its home of twelve years is not a simple task and, as you might expect, is sure to create a few glitches here and there. For the past few weeks,my time has been consumed getting my boy settled into his new home. I've changed lots of lightbulbs and repaired a few leaky faucets. There are undoubtedly a few more honey do's yet to be done, but we'll get the new site fine tuned in short fashion. The great thing about the move...the Rusty Goat has lots of room to grow and there's plenty of space for everybody to hang out!
So, what began as a humble little goat joke page is now all grown up. We still call him the Rusty Goat but he no longer sits in the shadows, known as rustygoat.texasgoat.com. He has a brand new name...rustygoat.net! A full-fledged online magazine, complete with an arcade, music, trending stories, breaking news headlines, a popular weekly blog post by yours truly, and jokes...lots of jokes. Within this enormous online enterprise I call 'The Rusty Goat,' there's a page called 'Rusty Goat Jokes.' Goat jokes...it all started with a goat joke!

 

 

'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 make 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 has 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!

Hey, buy one of my books!

Bigger Than Google

I have tried to make myself write this blog for two days now. I really don't know where it will go or how it will end, but here goes... For the past ten days I have toiled with an extreme makeover of one of my websites and, having finished it this morning, would much rather be sitting out on the back porch watching the moon rise, or maybe just watching Netflix. Honestly, I am tired of having this laptop in my lap. but I made a promise to myself when I ventured into the world of blog writing that I would be faithful in it. What was I thinking?
The little website that I've worked so hard on desperately needed some updating. Even with its obvious flaws, it still reigns a firm #1 in its niche on Google. And it has made me a dollar or two in its nine years of existence. In fact, it was this little website that pulled me through a very tough time in my life. I'll tell you the story...
(2008)
My eyes darted from the TV screen where Dr. House was indulging himself in belittling everyone in the hospital to the couch, where my wife at the time sat. Her eyes gave up their fight to stay open and the beer can in her hand tilted ominously at an angle, threatening to empty its contents onto the leather sofa. I glanced at the clock on the wall...right on schedule. She was out like a light. With a heavy sigh, I turned the TV off and reached for my laptop. It had become the only companion I had past eight every night and it was becoming a bore. I propped my head up with an arm and pursed my lips. Back in those ancient times, there was no Facebook, no Twitter...wasn't much internet at all, come to think of it. I peered over the screen at the woman passed out on the sofa, deflated like a blow-up doll, that beer can still clutched firmly in her hand.
'Think I'll just build a website,' I told myself.
For the next three months, I found myself actually looking forward to 8 pm. And right on schedule, she'd lose consciousness and I'd start writing fervently, page after page after page. As the weeks wore on, my relationship began to unravel. The woman was downing ninety beers on the weekend and probably as much during the week. I became so very aware that there is no loneliness as lonely as the loneliness of being lonely with someone right there with you. I eventually came to the realization that I'd rather be lonely all alone.
A divorce would financially devastate me. I began crunching numbers...if I gave up smoking...and eating. Nope, I still came up two hundred dollars short every month. Maybe if I sat in the dark and gave up bathing...I was becoming desperate. My only hope was taking a chance on that little website I had spent so much time putting together. Maybe, just maybe, if I put a few Google ads on it I could generate some income. I seriously doubted it would produce the two hundred bucks I needed.
Being a man of little faith in those days, I put what little I had in a website. And being a man who rarely talked with his Maker in those days, I took a moment to ask Him to see me through. Then one night I told her, "You have to go."
A month later, I opened the mailbox and saw my first check from Google. It was for the amount of $256.30. Every single month over the next two years I received a check for over two hundred dollars...sometimes even three hundred. I made my last pickup payment in May of 2010. When that Google check came in the following month, it was for a measly hundred and thirty bucks. I stared at it as I stood at my mailbox beside the road and tears came to me eyes. I shot a glance toward the sky and with trembling lips quietly spoke,
"Thank You for seeing me through!"
Through this ordeal, I had found myself drawn closer to God. I had come to realize that I hadn't put my faith in a piddly little website or Google...I had put my faith in God. Now granted, it so happens that Google had realigned its algorithm which caused my website traffic to temporarily fall off. But...they had waited until I had my pickup paid off to do it.
I want to just briefly make a point to point out that the next time you find yourself annoyed over advertising on one website or another, there's probably some guy like me on the other end just praying that you'll click an ad so he can make a dollar or two. Just briefly I want to make a point to point out that while you readily pay for internet service every month, while you gleefully pay for all that data you burn on your cell phone...you never have to pay to visit a website. We just ask that every now and then you support that site by clicking on one of those annoying ads.
The real point I wish to get across on in this blog that I didn't want to write is this; sometimes you have nothing left to work with but faith. I have another little woman sitting on my sofa now. Even though she's still in high school, she's diligently preparing for one of two college classes she's taking this summer. Yes, we have the expense of college looming before us and absolutely no plan on how we're going to pay for it. But I lose no sleep worrying about such matters. I have a little faith in that website I overhauled, a little faith in Google...and a whole lot of faith that God will see us through! After all, God is bigger than Google!
Oh, the website? Next to my daughter, she's my favorite child! You can see her here:

 Texas Pecan~ Ranked by Google as the #1 pecan website on the planet!

'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 wasn't 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 accidently 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 accidently 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!

'What Is To Come'

With author Rodney Strange

A short story:

May 20, 2020
Newly appointed judge Jade Johnson clasped the folder firmly in her right hand as she entered the courtroom. This would be the last of twelve cases on her docket today. She was exhausted and overwhelmed with the task facing her; tens of thousands of backlogged American Youth Rights hearings in her district alone.
At the bailiff's bark, the sparsely filled courtroom came to complete silence as less than a dozen individuals dutifully rose to their feet.
With a rap of the gavel, Judge Johnson flipped the folder before her open and in a monotone voice read the charges.
"The defendants, Rick Jones and Jennifer Jones have been brought before this court today on various charges relating to violation of the American Youth Rights Act enacted on June 2, 2017."
She paused, flipping a random strand of hair from her view as she hastily read through the charges.
"Mr. and Ms. Jones, these are grave charges against you. Two children in your possession, both confirmed to be genetically connected via DNA testing results, have been brought under the jurisdiction of this court for their protection against violations of their civil rights. Your charges include failure to grant the children the right to choose their preferred gender identity, forcing them into a situation that imposes your religious beliefs on them...."
She hesitated, turning a page in the folder.
"Mr. Jones, I see here the documentation concerning your outspoken public resistance to allowing these children an opportunity to use the restroom of their choice, and in fact, openly condemning their federally mandated right to choose their gender identity. Ms. Jones, through an investigation conducted by our American Youth Rights staff, the youths verified that you force them to pray to your God before bedtime each night? In addition, our investigators have surveillance video showing both of you forcing these children to attend a church of the Christian faith on numerous occasions. I believe there are more violations..."
The judge turned another page and continued, citing numerous violations including dressing the children in gender specific clothing, failure to provide food and drink mandated suitable for child consumption, and a host of minor infractions.
"In fact, I see in this documentation before me that the youngest child in your possession, a three-year-old female, was confirmed with Autism prior to birth. With complete disregard to the guidelines set forth through the American Youth Rights Protection Act, you failed to abort this fetus in its thirty-sixth week."
Judge Johnson removed her reading glasses and stared at the defendants.
"This violation alone, the right of this autistic child's life to be terminated pre-birth, is a major infraction. Coupled with these other charges..." she exhaled deeply and dropped the glasses onto the folder before her, "bring me great sorrow for these children. As you know, according to the language contained in the American Youth Rights Protection Act, the federal government decrees that all children born within the borders of the United States are wards of the federal government. It grants permission to a child's natural parent, defined as Child Mentors, to provide a home under strict conditions that the child's rights as outlined by the federal government be respected. From this documentation before me, I see that you have clearly violated these children's' rights. Therefore, by the power granted to me by the American Youth Rights Protection Act, effective immediately, these two children will become permanent wards of the federal government. They will be placed in Child Development Facilities where they will be cared for until they reach legal adulthood. Additionally, Mr. Jones, you are sentenced to three years of behavioral therapy at the Virginia Social Development Camp. Ms. Jones, you will be interred at the Illinois Social Development Camp for a period of two years. Both of your release dates are contingent on your ability to overcome your biased and outdated views toward socially accepted practices. Additionally, by the authority vested in me by the federal government, I order that each of your undergo permanent medically induced sterilization. I also terminate your legal marriage, effective immediately. Both of your will be paired with a partner more suited to our federal guidelines during your internment. Upon your completion of social re-education and release from your respective federal facilities, I mandate that each of you be required to wear a monitoring device for a period of ten years."
The gavel sounded, inaudible as the parents, now stripped of their duties as Child Mentors by the United States government, wailed in their immense anguish. Two bailiffs handcuffed the Jones's and removed them from the courtroom. They would never see each other nor their children again.

I awoke this morning with this story planted firmly in my mind. I firmly believe God wants me to share it with you...I believe it with all my heart. Share this blog if it touches a nerve within you. Is this what is to come? Take a stand NOW...not take the stand in 2020.

'That Haunting Rusty Goat Persona'

With author Rodney Strange

You just never know when the world as you know it is going to come crashing down around you. There I was last Monday merrily cruising through life with my Rusty Goat mentality just as I've done for years now. I narrowly avoided an accident down at the edge of town when I ran a red light while craning my neck to scope out a hot cowgirl putting gas in her Dually pickup truck. A skimpy little pink blouse that left most of her midriff exposed had caught my eye, but it was those exceptionally short blue jean daisy dukes that nearly caused the wreck. My heart rate had simmered down somewhat by the time I pulled into the parking lot of the local Walmart Dollar Store. On the way in to buy some dunkin' sticks and coffee for tomorrow's breakfast, I fiddled with a package of peanut butter crackers, finally managing to rip through the cellophane. I popped a whole cracker in my mouth and with the first crunch, felt a pinch on my arm. Turning around, I came face to face with a short brunette who has been shamelessly stalking me in recent weeks. Her eyes twinkled as they met mine.
"Can't you find anything better than that to put in your mouth?" she giggled and winked.
I smiled, my cheeks bulging with a wad of chewed cracker.
"When are we going to go dancing? I've been asking you this same question for three weeks? I'm beginning to think you're putting me off!"
Well, my mama taught me to never talk with my mouth full, which was convenient at the moment so I shrugged. Giving her the universal fingers-to-the-ear sign for 'call me,' I turned and scurried on into the Walmart, knowing she didn't have my number.
Once I arrived home, I plopped down into my easy chair, grabbing the laptop and checked my email, wondering what I was going to cook for supper.
You know how email is...junk and more junk and once in a blue moon a message from some desperate woman on a dating site. And then there was the message from Linkedin; 'LinkedIn ProFinder is a pilot program designed to help freelance and independent writers in the Lubbock, Texas Area find new clients. You're part of an exclusive group we're inviting to apply because of your impressive LinkedIn profile...'
I took a deep drag off my e-cigarette peace pipe as I read the rest of the message. I exhaled slowly as the meaning of the email sank into my thick head. Wow, a freelance writer. I clicked the 'Accept this Invitation' button and within minutes...I was a bona fide freelance writer for Linkedin!
The following morning I received a personal reply along with notification that they had noticed on my Linkedin profile that I was a web designer as well. Would I like for this skill to be included? Well sure, why not!
Throughout the remainder of the week, I found my mind spinning out of control. Could I even write on demand? Could I write about whatever someone pays me to write about? I'm a passionate person (Don't tell that to the brunette) about my writing. Could I work up some passion writing about...well, what does a freelance writer write about? I began to doubt my writing abilities. I certainly couldn't write an article like I write these blogs. Pretty sure they come off sounding hick-ish.
I received more communications from Linkedin. "Your personal Profinder profile is ready for you to view." OMG! This is for real! I needed a website, not the Rusty Goat website, a REAL website about... well, not the Rusty Goat. I had one of those once, I remembered. Wonder if it's still around?
As it slowly loaded on the screen, I pursed my lips. It was better than I remembered, but a lot had changed in the decade since I put it together. I'd just have to trash it and start from scratch, I decided. And so I began.
The struggle throughout this week has not been about whether I can write or not. It's not about my ability to create a website that would awe anyone. I have all that down. I may have waves of insecurity sweep through my body occasionally, but I know I can do this. My fear is...can I escape that 'Rusty Goat' persona that has become so 'me' over the years? I am very comfortable in this skin. I drawl my Texas accent proudly. I conversate through tales and parables. I'm fond of words like ain't and ya'll and it's really hard to refrain from throwing a damn in here and there. My fear is trying to overcome who I am, even for the span of an interview. Can I be professional enough?
I never wanted to be one of 'those people' and it's likely that throughout the years I've missed some golden opportunities because of my insistence to remain 'just a good ol' boy.' But, as I pondered over this, I realized that I thrive on challenges. I've accomplished much in my life and succeeded at most everything I've taken on, except finding true love and getting rich, and I haven't given up on either of them. So, I find myself excited at the prospect of yet another challenge. Perhaps the biggest challenge won't be escaping that Rusty Goat persona...perhaps it will be as simple as making 'those folks' love me for who I am...or just like me...and pay me. Now, I've got to fetch my hammer and nails and go build a website...not about the Rusty Goat!

(See that website in its early stages here)

'Today's Lesson: John Wayne'

With author Rodney Strange

John Wayne, American hero or tainted icon? Last week California lawmakers balked at proclaiming May 26th 'John Wayne Day' in an effort to keep up with a Texas resolution enacted last year. In 2015, Texas governor Greg Abbott issued a proclamation declaring the iconic star an honorary Texan. That's just how we do things in Texas. But was it the right thing to do? Well...let's ponder this.
California's resolution fell on a 35 - 20 vote due to what the bill's proposer, Matthew Harper called 'the orthodoxy of political correctness.' Opposers of the bill cited the Duke's views toward minorities as a cause for concern. This sparked my interest, which goaded me to investigate these charges against my childhood hero, and guess what! John Wayne, according to a Playboy interview conducted back in the early seventies, had some views concerning minorities that certainly would be considered alarming in this day and age. But...so did your grandpa and my grandpa and most of the rest of the citizens of the day. Doesn't make it right, but it was what is was.
This attack on the Duke's character follows on the heels of the controversy over Andrew Jackson, which resulted in his eviction from the twenty dollar bill, as well as calls for removal of statues of Confederate heroes and of course, the infamous battle over the rebel flag. I personally could care less who they put on our money since I never have any. Having a teenaged daughter, I occasionally have a twenty pass through my hand on its way to hers. The checkers at the Walmart have gotten to the point where they just hand the cash to her...so, not a big deal. What is a big deal is the push by some to literally obliterate history for the sake of political correctness. But, I stray from the topic. Back to John Wayne...
Why California waited until 2016 to even consider honoring Wayne boggles my mind. There are millions who truthfully don't even know who he was. I was just a child when he reined the big screen and even my memories have grown dim over the years. It's no surprise that young lawmakers who probably know nothing about the actor rallied to shoot down the California proposal. The John Wayne I remember stood for the American values so precious, patriotism, duty, independence, and honor. Ah, but there were those racial comments.
I try to address this with hesitance. There will be some who won't understand what I am trying to convey here. Think Muslims. Are you with me? I personally believe that prejudice follows fear. Many of us today harbor prejudice towards those of the Muslim faith. With catastrophic events of recent, it's no wonder we fear those who proclaim the Muslim faith. Doesn't make it right, does it? Bear with me. Those, like John Wayne, who were raised in an era of fear, not of minorities, but of the unknown that might come after, had views that don't jive with our thought process of this era. Those, like the Duke, born in the early twentieth century, had parents and grandparents who lived through the civil war. Their prejudice came from their ancestry, just as the prejudice we perhaps are instilling in the youth of today. Doesn't make it right, but it is what it is.
Here's a thought to chew on...for those of you who are quick to judge. I will be one of the first to say that the statements published from the Playboy interview in 1971 were hurtful to many minorities, blacks and Native Americans in particular. History, which some wish to modify to suit them, teaches us many lessons. One being, sometimes you should just keep your opinions to yourself. John Wayne should have taken one of his oft-quoted statements to heart in that interview: "Talk low, talk slow, and don't say too much." This spotlight that suddenly glares on a movie star long gone should be a warning to heed by the celebrities of today. Often outspoken and opinionated, perhaps they need to take note. For the truth is, we, their fans want only one thing for them, their talent. If they act...act. If they sing...sing. We don't want their opinions. For there may come a time when it will be those opinions that come back to haunt them in their grave.
There was a time in history where many were prejudice, the majority, in fact. It wasn't right, but it is a part of our history. But mark my word! There will come a time in history when many of the views of today will be viewed equally as wrong. There may come a day when those who stand up for abortion or the rights of the transgendered or the growing trend to eradicate Christianity, and a multitude of other controversies of this day will be viewed as unworthy to be remembered. They may not get their 'John Wayne Day.' Our time will one day be history, and there will be those who wish to modify...or erase it from the books.
John Wayne has taught us something so many years after his death...that as right as we think we may be...sometimes we're wrong. John Wayne was wrong with his outlook on minorities. He and most of the folks back in that day, including your grandpa and mine...were wrong in their prejudice. But we loved them all anyway, in spite of their shortcomings. For it is those shortcomings that brought us to where we are today. Remember, every one of us is imperfect. I leave you with this thought:
"Tomorrow hopes we have learned something from yesterday." ~ the late, great John Wayne

'The Potty Blog'

With author Rodney Strange

I guessed it was probably around midnight as I pushed and shoved my way through the crowd toward the restrooms. The bar was packed beyond capacity, I was certain, filled not with the typical Saturday night wannabe cowboys and lonely women, but with rowdy football fans. Tension was high with a Texas Tech win over the Oklahoma Sooners and scores of fans sporting their teams' logos raised their voices over the blaring music, each determined to outdo the other. Me...I just wanted to pee.
As I approached the restrooms, my mouth fell open as I caught sight of a line of women stretching from the far side of the bar to the door of the women's' room. Women stood squirming in a never ending line waiting their turn. I forcefully pushed my way through the line after several polite attempts to pass failed, the frantic, fairly intoxicated females apparently fearing I would try to cut in. Once I had cleared that obstacle, I was relieved to find a somewhat shorter line leading to the men's' room. After a fifteen minute wait, I finally found myself inside the tiny room where at least thirty people were crowded against each other, impatiently waiting their turn. In the din of agitated voices, my ears caught several shrill, screechy voices above the rest. Women! A dozen or more drunken chicklets had taken their stand inside our restroom, giving up hope of ever making it into the women's' room. It would be a new experience for me, but I needed to pee, having reached my limit of two beers.
Another fifteen minutes later, I found myself face to face with a urinal. With a sigh of relief, I assumed my position. A huge Sooner fan at the urinal beside me squirmed his way back and a cute little blonde suddenly appeared in my peripheral vision, quickly squeezing her little hiney into the urinal, her stare stoically focused on the floor beneath her. I froze. I mean, literally froze.
'I can't do this!' I thought to myself, 'try...you need to pee!'
I glanced over my shoulder as a petite brunette began goading my rear with a half empty beer bottle.
"Hurry up!"
Sweat formed on my forehead. Relax, I told myself. Still nothing.
"Why aren't you peeing?"
It was the blonde beside me, intently staring.
"You're watching me?"
That's about as far as I should go with that story. Restrooms are a sore subject right now and I don't want to get into any trouble. Folks are losing their jobs over restroom talk. It may come to beheadings and crucifixions and I'm really not ready to lose my head over potty talk. I'm just a storyteller and this particular story is the one that comes to mind in light of all the hoopla in recent weeks. But the point I want to make with this tale is...even though this event took place at least five years ago, it is still fresh on my mind. Out of all the times I peed in that particular restroom in that particular bar...it is this memory that comes to mind. I am a full grown man. A smoking hot twenty-something-year-old intoxicated chick dropped her britches and peed not more than twelve inches from me. And I'll never forget it. Perhaps I'm scarred for life.
But we can't talk about that. So, let's go this route. I personally don't believe that collectively we have the kahunas to stand up and protest this current fiasco. I don't think that we in mass unison, will refuse to shop at Target or use Paypal or terminate our business ventures with any of the other businesses who have risked everything for a man's right to pee where he deems appropriate. I believe Springsteen concerts will still sell out and I think millions will still tune in Nashville every week even thought Connie doesn't feel comfortable filming in Tennessee anymore because they're not 'potty friendly.' It saddens me to say this, but America has been steamrolled by dudes in skirts and tights.
Now, bear with me. If I sneak down to the lake and cast a line, knowing I don't have a fishing license, I know what my penalty is if I get caught...a fine. If the city cops ever catch me doing sixty out by the cemetery where the speed limit is fifty, I know the penalty...a fine. There's nothing wrong with fishing or driving sixty miles an hour. It's just that somewhere along the way, the 'powers that be' determined that if they said there was something wrong with it...we should all just go along. We all still go fishing and we still speed, and we know we'll pay the fine if we get caught.
If voicing our opinions about men using women's restrooms is wrong, then fine us! Don't destroy a man's career because he spoke his mind, a right afforded us under the constitution. Pass your damn laws! Make it a crime to speak out! Then punish us under the full extent of the law. Until then...shut up and let us be!
In the meantime, I firmly believe that any person who voices their opinion concerning restrooms, who is harassed, bullied, terminated from employment, and ultimately destroyed...is the subject of discrimination, every bit as much so as those some of you spend so much time fretting over about where they should get to pee. We cannot allow discrimination to be indiscriminate. If we don't stand on this...there will be no stopping point...none! It is absolutely ludicrous for anyone to think that something that has been deemed morally wrong by society since the beginning of civilization as we know it will suddenly be accepted with open arms, no questions asked...just because someone tells us it is now okay. Are we as a society really that freakin' stupid? Lord, I hope not!