Will You Still Need Me, Will You Still Feed Me?

by Pa Rock
Birthday Boy


That's right, it's my birthday - the fourth that I have celebrated on Okinawa - #24, #25, #63, and now #64.  I have had a wonderful day, and indeed, a wonderful week!  Dinner with friends last weekend, lots of prezzies and warm wishes from friends today, and tomorrow night several people from work are meeting at the bowling alley on Kadena to continue the celebration.  Getting old has its perks.

I also had the very good fortune of hearing from all of my children today.

Good friend Rose Maxam from college days sent me a YouTube clip of the Beatles singing "When I'm Sixty-Four."   I have been whistling that song all week.  The clip is here:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tGtSpsYURAQ&feature=email    Thanks, Rose!

And here, just for grins, are the lyrics:


When I'm Sixty-Four
by The Beatles


When I get older losing my hair,
Many years from now,
Will you still be sending me a valentine
Birthday greetings bottle of wine?

If I'd been out till quarter to three
Would you lock the door,
Will you still need me, will you still feed me,
When I'm sixty-four?

oo oo oo oo oo oo oo oooo
You'll be older too, (ah ah ah ah ah)
And if you say the word,
I could stay with you.

I could be handy mending a fuse
When your lights have gone.
You can knit a sweater by the fireside
Sunday mornings go for a ride.

Doing the garden, digging the weeds,
Who could ask for more?
Will you still need me, will you still feed me,
When I'm sixty-four?

Every summer we can rent a cottage
In the Isle of Wight, if it's not too drear
We shall scrimp and save
Grandchildren on your knee
Vera, Chuck, and Dave

Send me a postcard, drop me a line,
Stating point of view.
Indicate precisely what you mean to say
Yours sincerely, Wasting Away.

Give me your answer, fill in a form
Mine for evermore
Will you still need me, will you still feed me,
When I'm sixty-four? 

Tennessee Is Still Not Evolving

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist


When it comes to state legislatures turning their states into laughingstocks, none can compare with Arizona.  Those scorpion-milkers and jackass-breeders are in a league of their own - steeped in hate and damned proud of it!  But over the last few years there seems to have been a rash of other state legislatures pushing to prove that they are every bit as backward and bigoted as the mental midgets who write the laws in Arizona.  Wisconsin is fighting to dismantle public employee unions, Kansas is at war with women, and Missouri is putting a bronze bust of Rush Limbaugh in its state capitol.  The crazies are seizing power and being ...well, uh ... crazy!

Tennessee is now trying to add its name to the list of scary places to live.   Monday evening of this week a bill was passed by the Tennessee State Senate that will protect teachers who want to promote "alternate scientific theories," or ideas otherwise known as hokum with no scientific basis in fact.  This means that science teachers will now be able to present "creationism" starring Adam and Eve as a "theory" on par with evolution. They can also cast aside scientific data from around the globe and calmly state that there is no such thing as climate change and global warming because it snowed once last winter.

It also means that Bubba, and Joe Bob, and Reverend Piddle - who all sit on the local board of education in Grinder's Switch - will likely be asking science teacher applicants hardball questions like, "Just how many days did it take God to create the Earth, anyway?"  Or, "You  don't believe in that global warming nonsense, do ya?"  It won't take long before science teachers across the state come to fully realize just which "theories" are preferred by their local communities, whether they have any basis in fact or not.

Tennessee, of course, has been down this road before.  John T. Scopes, a science teacher at Dayton High School, was charged in 1925 with ignoring a state law that forbid the teaching of evolution in Tennessee classrooms.  World class lawyer Clarence Darrow defended Scopes, and three-time Presidential candidate William Jennings Bryan defended the literal word of the Bible as he prosecuted Scopes.  The whole affair was known as the "Scopes Monkey Trial," and it turned the little town of Dayton into a summer-long carnival as the media and interested on-lookers descended on the community to be near the trial.  Scopes was eventually convicted, because he had indeed broken the law, but he was given a light sentence, and Mr. Bryan who had been pummeled by Mr. Darrow for his illogical fundamentalist religious views, died just a couple of days after the trial ended.

Tennessee became a national laughingstock - and now, eighty-seven years later, the Volunteer State is right back gnawing the lid off of the same can of worms.  It is apparently much like Arizona - a place where nothing evolves.

Work It, Ricky - Work It!

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist


When it comes to respect, or lack thereof, Little Ricky Santorum is in a class with comedian Don Rickles.


Last week when Santorum probably should have been camped out in Illinois kissing babies and tipping cows, he opted instead to rush down to Puerto Rico, insult all of the Spanish speakers (most of the island's population), and then rip off his shirt and lay by the pool.   It was narcissism gone wild!

While everyone deserves a day or two in the sun, a serious presidential contender should probably keep his shirt buttoned until he has put in some serious time at the gym getting ready for the big unveiling.

But Little Ricky was in Puerto Rico, dammit, and he had spent all winter in the snow and ice trying to light a fire under the evangelicals, teabaggers, and other right-wing riff-raff, so he deserved a little time for himself.  Off came the shirt!

Of course, it didn't take long for someone to recognize God's Flabby White Boy beached by the pool, and a picture was snapped that made it onto the Internet quicker than Sarah Palin could name a book.  And when Little Ricky eventually saw the photo, he apologized to the world saying that he could probably stand to lose fifteen or twenty pounds.

I don't mean to be critical on the subject of weight.  I could certainly stand to lose forty or fifty pounds - maybe more.  But I don't go around flaunting my flab, and if I were running for the highest office in the land I would certainly tend toward staying covered up.  But Little Ricky let it all hang out, as it were, and placed himself directly in the line of fire of the paparazzi - as well as the thousands of tourists who are on each and every one of Puerto Rico's beaches each and every day.

But the story gets even better more disrespectful.  The guy who snapped the offending photograph was visiting San Juan while on an all-gay cruise.  That's right!  The biggest little homophobe in America got his picture taken, bare-chested, by a gay man out cruising the Caribbean with a shipload of other gay men!

Oh Ricky, you know those godless gays made copies and plastered the ship with them.  And if those prints could talk, the tales they would tell!

Next time do everyone a favor and keep your shirt on!

Tom Nutt Goes to California

by Pa Rock

Family Historian


Today's posting is for my twelve-year-old grandson, Boone.  We were talking over the telephone last Sunday and Boone was telling me about his periodic visits with his maternal great-grandmother, Ireme Olive (Tippee) Christerson.  Boone is very patient and will sit and listen for long periods of time - even  to old people.  He also knew another great-grandparent - my dad, Garland Eugene Macy - who passed away when Boone was ten.  Somewhere during  our conversation on Sunday, he suddenly asked, "Hey, Pa Rock, do you remember any of your great-grandparents?"

Only three of my great-grandparents were alive when I was born, both of my dad's grandmothers and his maternal grandfather.  One of his grandmothers, Etta Orvilla (Griffith) Nutt, died in the summer of 1950 when I was two-years-old, and the other grandmother, Louella (Pritchard) Macy passed away in the summer of 1954 when I was six.  Most of the relatives called her Granny Pritchard, and when my mother felt that my little sister, Gail, was getting too bossy, she would refer to her as "Miss Pritchard!"

I have no memory of Etta, and only a vague recollection of Louella.  I remember that Louella smoked a pipe and she would sit in our kitchen smoking her pipe and visiting while my mom did household chores.  Mom complained long after Louella's death about how mad she would get because Louella would strike her wooden matches on the bottom of our kitchen table in order to light her pipe - leaving long, black marks that Mom felt obliged to clean.

Thomas Franklin Nutt was my dad's grandfather on his mother's side.  Grandpa Nutt died in 1958 at the age of eighty-eight.  He worked as a concrete finisher most of his life and helped to build the courthouse in Neosho, Missouri.

There is a bit of a family mystery with Grandpa Nutt.  He was born in Missouri in 1870 (according to information in the 1880 census records).  In 1880 he was living in the home of his grandparents, Henry and Celena (Rutledge) Nutt in Neosho, Missouri, where Henry was the town marshal.  To this day no one knows who his parents were, but the most likely scenario is that he was the illegitimate child of one of Henry and Celana's older daughters.

My grandmother, Hazel (Nutt) Macy told me years ago that Grandpa Nutt had told her that his father had gone out west with another man, and that the traveling companion eventually returned and said that Tom's dad had been killed by Indians.

But back to Boone's question:  Yes, I did know Tom Nutt fairly well.  In the summer of 1957 our family was piling into our old 1953 Chevrolet preparing to drive to California on vacation.  Just as we got everything loaded, my grand-aunt, Ethel Macy, a daughter of Tom's who had married another Macy, came pulling into the driveway with Grandpa Nutt in tow - where she announced that he would be riding to California with us so that he could spend some quality time with some of his other children - Bob Nutt, Earl Nutt, and Daisy (Nutt) Lindblad.  My mother was especially angry about Ethel's mandate and did a slow burn for 2,000 miles!

A Macy family vacation involved driving and driving and driving and finally unpacking with some relatives.  There was no money for motels, and we took much of what we ate from home.  When Dad and Mom were both  too tired to drive, they would find someplace to stop for a couple of hours and sleep in the car.  Gail and I were in the back seat, and we napped on either side of 87-year-old Grandpa Nutt!

But we were headed to California, and we damned near made it without a serious incident.  Somewhere in Arizona, however (Dad thought it was Tucson, but from studying a map I am more inclined to guess Yuma), Grandpa Nutt lost it and decided that he had been kidnapped.  He started swinging his cane at his abductors, hitting Gail and I - and I am sure my parents as well.  We wound up leaving him at some sort of hospital or rest home, and his son Bob had to drive out from Los Angeles and retrieve the confused and cantankerous old man.  When he finally got him back to Los Angeles, Grandpa Nutt started saying that my family had stolen his money.  It turns out that he had hidden his wallet in the facility where we had left him - and Bob had to drive to Arizona a second time where he was able to find Grandpa Nuttt's money.

It was a trip that I won't forget, and it is my clearest memory of Grandpa Tom Nutt.  He died in Neosho the following year.

Now I am wondering if my life will be that adventurous and interesting when my children start shuffling me from home to home in an effort to give each other quality time with their dad.  Start planning now kids - the time draws near!

The Obituary of Thomas F. Nutt from the Neosho Daily News on 15 May 1958: 

Thomas f. Nutt, Rt. 2, Neosho, died at 10:30 p.m. Wednesday at Sale Memorial Hospital after a four week illness.  He was born in Neosho and had lived here his entire life. 

Mr. Nutt was a concrete finisher.  His survivors included five daughters and three sons.  Mrs.  C.E. (Hazel) Macy, Rt. 3, Mrs. Jack (Ethel) Macy, Sr., Rt. 2, Mrs. Daisy Lindblad, Temple City, CA, Mrs. Ina Johnston, Winter Garden, Florida, Mrs. Mable Sour, Joplin, Robert, El Monte, CA, Earl, Riverside, CA, and Claude, Wichita, KS. 

Funeral services will be conducted from the Clark Funeral Home Chapel at 3:30 p.m. Saturday with burial in the Belfast Cemetery.

Monday's Poetry: "Daffodils"

by Pa Rock
Poetry Appreciator


This week marks the beginning of spring - my favorite season.  And it is certainly starting to feel like spring here on Okinawa.  Our winter, such that it was, lasted longer than usual, but now the temperatures have settled into the seventies and eighties, the birds are singing, and the warm breezes are blowing.  The flowers on Okinawa bloom all year round, but right now they are especially lovely.

This past Saturday night two good friends, Murphy and Nefredia, took me out to dinner out of respect for my advanced years.  After a fine meal at the Macaroni Grill, we came back to my place and walked from there to American Village (about a mile) where we planned to listen to some jazz.  We never found a venue that we liked, and instead spent most of the evening just walking around American Village and looking in the shops.  But the weather was the highlight of the evening.  The night was balmy, the night was delightful, and we had a wonderful time just being with each other and enjoying the fine spring evening!

And somehow all of that got me to thinking about my little farm, Rock's Roost, back in the Ozarks.  One of the last things that I did in the fall of 2004 before moving away the following January, was to plants lots and lots of flower bulbs:  crocus, hyacinths, tulips, and, of course, my favorites - daffodils.  In fact, I dug a substantial trench next to the road where I planted dozens, if not hundreds, of daffodil bulbs.  And now, over seven years later, I have yet to be home at the right time to see the blooms.  I hope they are blooming right now, and I hope they are beautiful.

So, for today's poetry selection, I am happy to share William Wordsworth's best effort:  Daffodils, sometimes also known as I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud.

Happy spring - and go fly a kite!


Daffodils
by William Wordsworth


I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed--and gazed--but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,And dances with the daffodils.  

An Open Letter to Claire McCaskill

by Pa Rock
Missourian Abroad


Dear Senator McCaskill,


I realize that the life of a United States Senator must be very fast-paced and hectic.  With that in mind, and with a deep appreciation of the work that you do for Missouri and the nation, I am making one final attempt to bring a matter to your attention that I believe is weakening our nation and depriving its citizens of a way to save money while expressing their patriotism.


First, as background, I am a Missourian living abroad where I work with the U.S. military.  I have five wonderful grandchildren, two of whom live in Missouri.  Since the oldest was born twelve years ago, I have been making dutiful purchases of $100 Series EE Savings Bonds through my Missouri bank each month for each grandchild.  It was a system that worked very well, and I have built up a nice stack of savings bonds that will help put my grandchildren through college  - possibly even Missouri colleges.


Unfortunately for me, and I suspect thousands of others as well, the Treasury Department quit selling the Series EE Savings Bonds through banks on January 1st of this year, and announced at that time that they would begin selling the bonds over the Internet.  I have signed up for an account with the Treasury Department and now have an account number and a password, but multiple visits to the Treasury website have been totally frustrating.  There appears to be no way to actually buy the bonds.


I have recently spoken to an officer in my bank back in Missouri and asked her if she knew how to navigate the bewildering system.  The bank officer responded that one of the tellers at her bank had also been on the Internet trying to buy savings bonds for her grandchildren and had also given up.


Senator McCaskill, that is outrageous.  You and I are both old enough to remember when purchasing savings bonds was one of the most patriotic acts that a citizen could perform.  Every dollar that the government takes in through the sale of these bonds is one less dollar that we have to borrow from China.  What would Harry Truman think of a government bureaucracy that keeps citizens from supporting their government?


Here are two simple things that your office can do which will either validate or impugn my premise that it is now virtually impossible for ordinary citizens to purchase Series EE Savings Bonds:  1.  Ask a member of your staff to try to navigate the system and see if they can purchase a bond.  And, 2.  Shoot a note over to Secretary Geithner and ask to see the figures for savings bonds sales for the first three months of this year versus the first three months of last year.  I predict that the drop in sales this year as compared to last year will be startling.


That might even make a good campaign issue.


I will not bother you any further on this subject.  I am now in the process of setting up savings accounts with my bank for each grandchild, something that I find very sad because the old system worked so well.


Senator, I know that you and your staff are unbelievably busy.  Your direct tweet to me, the only valid communication that I have had from your office, stated that you receive 8,000-10,000 emails and letters a week "just from Missourians."  Please remember that I, too, am a Missourian, and I am also an American who cares deeply about my country.  Whether I am buying savings bonds or not, the system needs to be fixed so that others may have that savings option - and our government may maintain that revenue stream.


Thank you for all you do.


Rocky G. Macy
Missourian Abroad
(Okinawa)

Sharia Law Comes to Arizona

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist


Arizona just keeps getting meaner and stupider.

This week there is a piece of legislation making its way through the Arizona Legislature that would allow employers to deny their workers health insurance coverage for contraception - based on the employer's religious beliefs.  Those in favor of this latest tactic in the war on women state that it is a matter of religious freedom and First Amendment rights.  Those opposed see it more clearly as employers imposing their religious beliefs on the poor souls who work for them.

Count me in the latter group.

I spent this evening in the company of good friends.  One, the sweetest lady on Okinawa, said that she cannot believe that the Republicans and religious fundamentalists are attacking contraception, something that has been an accepted and prevalent family planning practice in America for half a century.

My other friend, a male, noted that even though conservatives love to rail against Sharia Law, they are in effect no different than the Mullahs when it comes to the treatment of women.

Here are some of my concerns:  Will these same employer's grant their pregnant employees maternity leave, or time off when these unplanned children become ill?  Will they pay their employees sufficient salary to raise a family?  Will they provide health insurance for families of their employees?

It's expensive to raise a kid - far more expensive than the cost of birth control pills.

What's next, gentlemen?  Burqas?

The Lost Art of Television Repair

by Pa Rock
Antiquarian


While my friend Murphy and I were out running up and down the island today, I told him that I had taken my malfunctioning computer in for repairs earlier in the day, and, right on cue, the problem disappeared as soon as the repairman touched the machine.  That led to another story - about how my printer quit two weeks ago.  I went to the Post Exchange on Camp Foster and bought a new one.  After cutting open the box on the new printer, I suddenly thought of something that I hadn't tried with the old one.  So I picked it up a couple of inches off of the table and dropped it - and, of course, the printer resumed working.

Murphy responded with, "Do you remember when we used to fix televisions by hitting them?"

Of course I remembered that.  Often all it would take to get the picture or sound back - or to get the blasted picture to quit rolling - was to slam a hand up against the side of the television.  Then, if that didn't work, a person could call a repairman who would come to the house and fix the offending television right on the spot.  The worst case scenario was that he would cart it off to his repair shop for a week or two.

My Dad had an appliance store in Noel, Missouri, while I was growing up.   One of the major items that he handled was televisions - small ones called portables that might weigh anywhere from twenty pounds to well over a hundred, console televisions which were big pieces of furniture - and entertainment centers that would have a large television, a phonograph, and an AM-FM radio.  The entertainment centers would often take up an entire wall in the living room.  (So you can see why repairmen tried to fix the sets in the house rather than lugging them to the shop.)

Dad had a repairman, Kenneth Headlee, who ran a television repair shop right in Dad's store - so he could honor the warranty on every set that he sold.

Now, of course, when a television quits working we throw it away and buy another - but my Dad never progressed that far.  When his television quit, he  would grumble around for a month or two and claim that he was looking for a repairman, and then eventually give up and buy a smaller model to put on top of the one that had quit.  At one point he had a tower of three televisions!

And I am sure that my Dad hit every one of the offending televisions!

Then Murphy started talking about television rabbit ears, and tying tin foil to rabbit ears - and I was overwhelmed with nostalgia.  And that led me to remembering cars that I would have to jump on in order to get them to start - but that's a whole other story!

The Daring Young Man

by Pa Rock
Reader and Human Being


Here is how "association" works, at least in my nimble mind:

Several weeks ago I had collapsed in front of my television and was channel-surfing when I came across the movie classic, "It Happened One Night" just as it was about to begin.  It's called a "classic" for good reason, so I made some popcorn and settled down to enjoy the show - a movie that I had not seen in many years.  About an hour into the feature there is a wonderful scene when a busload of people are driving through a rural landscape on a dark and rainy night.  One of the passengers began to sing a popular song from the previous century, "The Daring Young Man on the Flying Trapeze," and others on the bus started joining in - with different passengers getting up and adding verses.  They were having a great time until the bus rolled off the road and got mired in the mud.

After the movie ended, I was still humming the song of the daring young man, and my mind drifted back to my high school literature class forty-some years earlier when I had read William Saroyan's signature short story, "The Daring Young Man on the Flying Trapeze."  I remembered that I had been impressed by the story and by Saroyan's talent as a writer, but the fog of way too many years left me with no memory of what the story was about.

A quick visit with my friends at Amazon.com confirmed that the story was still available, and, in fact, was the title story in a collection by Saroyan.  I made the order, it arrived a few days ago, and I have already read several of the stories including the one that I was after.

And I remain very, very impressed with the writing abilities of the late Mr. Saroyan.

William Saroyan wrote "The Daring Young Man on the Flying Trapeze" in 1934 at the height of the Great Depression.  He was only twenty-six-years-old at the time the piece was sold to Story magazine.  This very short story chronicles the last day or two in the life of a young man looking for work and slowly starving to death.  It is a stark and very realistic tale of street life during the depression.  There were large numbers of unemployed desperately competing for a very few jobs, and some lived on the streets, and some died on the streets.

However, not only was Saroyan a gifted chronicler of the times, he was at the forefront of a much less formal type of writing, a narrative told in patterns and rhythms that more accurately mirrored the way people actually talked.  His work is complicated, yet very easy to read, and his characters linger well beyond the last pages of their stories.

The daring young man haunts me.  He wanted to work, desperately, yet there was no work - and he starved to death.   It was 1934.  There was no unemployment insurance, and certainly very little in the way of a safety net.  And he died.  And thousands of others died during those horrible years - but those years gave rise to Social Security, insurance to protect bank deposits, and national jobs' programs like the Works Progress Administration, Civilian Conservation Corps, and the Tennessee Valley Authority.  America became a country that was not afraid or ashamed to take care of its most desperate souls.

But now the children and grandchildren of the people who struggled through the Great Depression are running the country, and their response to economic hard times is to vilify the poor.

We are becoming a truly shameless society, and our bus is about to get mired in the mud - again.

A Sad Day for Learning

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist


I feel as though the best friend of my youth has died.

Today I learned that Encyclopedia Britannica is ending its print edition.  That's right, those magnificent sets of books that many parent's bought on credit in the years following World War II so that their children would not fall behind academically will soon be nothing more than an historical curiosity.

And that is sad.

Oh, we all knew it was coming, what with the invention of the Internets, search engines like The Google, and on-line reference tools like Wikipedia - but today's announcement makes it seem like the lingering relative has finally passed.  And it is so sad.

Yes, Wikipedia is much more up-to-the minute and undoubtedly has many more topics.  (I venture to guess that Encyclopedia Britannica has probably never printed a word on the frothy sex mixture now known by millions as "santorum.")    But the topics that the encyclopedia did cover were often explained by experts in the field, whereas Wikipedia entries are written and "corrected" by damned near everybody.

(Interestingly though, I read some research today on the Internets that had experts in various fields compare Wikipedia entries on topics with those of Encyclopedia Britannica,  and the  printed encyclopedias proved more accurate, but not by much.)

Encyclopedia Britannica will continue with an on-line presence, but it won't be the same.  The magic of encyclopedias for me was always the accidental learning that happened as I thumbed through a volume looking for a particular topic - but was continually drawn to other interesting things that I came across while searching for my subject.  It was like visiting a candy store  - with so many sweet things to sample.  Often I would spend the entire hour of "study hall" just browsing through a volume or two of my school's encyclopedias.  Looking something up in an on-line encyclopedia will take the learner straight to what they are looking for - and cheat that person out of all of that accidental learning.

I miss the trappings of my youth - radio dramas, cars with fins, slide rules, company stopping by the house just to visit, music with pleasant melodies and words that made sense - and now I guess I'll miss encyclopedias, too.  The world is just moving too damned fast!

Romney Tries to Dumb It Down for Tuesday

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist


Just when you thought the Republican primary season couldn't get any dumber, along comes Tuesday, March 13th, with its twin primaries in Alabama and Mississippi.  Mitt Romney, who can only tolerate a cracker if its holding a truffle or a dab of caviar, somehow thinks that he may have a chance to win one or both of those states, and with a southern victory, go back to his blathering about being inevitable.   Press reports indicate that he is on the ground in the Old South talking about NASCAR, grits, coon dogs, and the wonderful apple pies that his mother's cook used to bake when he was a boy in prep school.  He has apparently even begun dropping the "g's" from word endings and addressing groups as "ya'll."

Of course, he may actually win one or both of those states if Santorum and Gingrich, as expected, split the conservative vote.  Mitt won't actually win with a majority, but he'll take a narrow win in a three-way and tout it as a voter mandate - or maybe God's will.

And Alabama and Mississippi should not be under-rated, because they are rapidly becoming the bedrock and intellectual base of the Republican Party.

A very recent survey by PPP asked Republican voters in Alabama and Mississippi two very revealing questions.  The first was:  Do you believe that Barack Obama is a Christian, a Muslim, or are you not sure?  The second question was:  Do you believe in evolution, or not?


Fourteen percent of Alabama Republican voters believe that Barack Obama is a Christian.  Forty-five percent believe he is a Muslim, and 41% are not sure.  When it comes to evolution, 26% of Alabama Republicans believe in evolution, 60% do not, and 13% are not sure.

It gets worse in Mississippi.

Just 12% of Mississippi Republican voters believe our President is a Christian, 52% (a clear majority) believe he is a Muslim, and 36% are not sure.  As for evolution, 22% of Mississippi Republicans believe in the theory of evolution, 66% do not believe in evolution, and 11% had no opinion.

DailyKos pointed out today that Alabama and Mississippi are also two places that would like to bring back literacy tests as a requirement for voting!  (If that were to happen, there might not be any Republican voters!)

The apes have spoken!

Monday's Poetry: "Happiness"

by Pa Rock
Poetry Appreciator


I discovered the poem "Happiness" by the late Raymond Carver in Andrew Sullivan's column, The Dish.   It is a glimpse of friendship told with simple, yet beautiful words.  Carver's poem lives up to its title by conveying an idyllic feeling of happiness.

And I am happy to share it here!


Happiness
by Raymond Carver


So early it's still almost dark out.
I'm near the window with coffee,
and the usual early morning stuff
that passes for thought.

When I see the boy and his friend
walking up the road
to deliver the newspaper.

They wear caps and sweaters,
and one boy has a bag over his shoulder.
They are so happy
they aren't saying anything, these boys.

I think if they could, they would take
each other's arm.
It's early in the morning,
and they are doing this thing together.

They come on, slowly.
The sky is taking on light,
though the moon still hangs pale over the water.

Such beauty that for a minute
death and ambition, even love,
doesn't enter into this.

Happiness. It comes on
unexpectedly. And goes beyond, really,
any early morning talk about it. 

Who's Making News?

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist


The Washington Post has a feature called "The Mention Machine" which tracks the amount of times that the presidential candidates are mentioned in the mainstream media and on Twitter on a weekly basis.  The numbers are interesting, but not entirely what I would have expected.

Last week President Obama led the pack in mainstream media mentions, not surprising since he is the President of the United States and not just some right-wing wannabe.  Mr. Obama had 13,854 mentions followed by Mitt Romney with 7,389, Little Ricky Santorum with 5,660, Newt Gingrich with 4,262, and the man the media most likes to ignore - Ron Paul - with 2,744.

But when it came to what real people were talking about - on Twitter - things changed.  There Mitt Romney had 179,237 mentions, the President came in a close second with 170,300, Little Ricky was again third with 107,440, Ron Paul moved into fourth with 98,915, and Newt finished last with 68,666.

What would really be interesting would be if the Post had some way of sorting those Twitter mentions into positive, neutral, and negative.  That might tell us more than the national polls, and it would certainly get the Twitter freaks banging harder on their keyboards!

The Great Japanese Earthquake and Tsunami One Year Later

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist


It is Sunday, March 11th, here in Japan, exactly one year after the horrendous earthquake and tsunami struck northeastern Japan killing thousands (15,850), injuring thousands, and leaving thousands homeless.   There are also thousands (3,287) who remain missing twelve months after the event.

The Fukushima Daichi nuclear power plant was severely damaged in the quake and ensuing tsunami to the point it has been off-line since the devastation of last March.  Questions about its current safety as well as its long-term prospects have had a substantive impact on the Japanese political scene, and nuclear power, which had seemed ready to make a rebound, is now being looked at more cautiously on a world-wide basis.

Here on Okinawa we had no physical contact with the horror of March 11, 2011, but many of the Japanese businesses have had out collection canisters all year to help with recovery efforts.  My housing agents told me that several Japanese from the effected area relocated to Okinawa.

I hope that those who have moved here from northern Japan have not traded one set of troubles for another.  I have felt a half-dozen minor quakes since arriving on Okinawa nearly two years ago, the most recent being at 4:30 a.m. one morning last week.  It measured 5.4 on the Richter Scale and shook my bed for over thirty seconds.  A couple of months ago we had a more severe one that broke a few things in my apartment.  Being squarely on the Ring of Fire, a big one is almost certain to hit this little island someday.

Japan and the United States and all of the other countries that have invested in nuclear power need to give serious consideration to where they place these facilities.  The full story on Fukushima Daichi has yet to be told, and indeed new horrors regarding the disaster at the plant are still being discovered.  Public distrust of government statements regarding the safety of the Fukushima Daichi plant have led to many Japanese purchasing portable radiation detectors so that they do not have to rely solely on what their government tells them.

There is a great deal of information on the Internet regarding the placement of nuclear power plants in known earthquake zones in the United States.  We have a clear choice:  either become better educated on the role that nature can play with regard to these plants and then get active, or sit back and trust our government to protect us.  The Japanese had been content to trust their government - and they paid a heavy price for that complacency.  Will southern California be called on to pay a similar price for the benefit of energy giants and their pet politicians?

Unfortunately, we are one year out from the disaster that struck northern Japan - and people are beginning to forget the horror of what befell the Japanese.    If we do forget, it will be at our peril.

Olympia Snowe Isn't the Only Republican Woman to Bail

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist


When Maine Republican senator, Olympia Snowe, decided this week to not seek re-election, many saw it as a manifestation of her frustration with the rightward, anti-woman tilt of her political party.  While some might argue that she could be more effective staying in the Senate and working on issues that are important to women, Senator Snowe determined it was time to leave all of the bickering and backbiting that has come to pass for governance in the halls of Congress.

Olympia Snowe did not necessarily bolt her party, she left the system.  Perhaps she felt that she could do more from the outside - speaking out on the issues as someone who no longer has to kiss Mitch McConnell's butt for committee assignments or nod in quiet agreement with legislative outrages.  Now, as Citizen Snowe, she will be able to say what she damned well pleases and not have to worry about offending some tobacco-funded  blowhard.

In fact, I don't think that Olympia Snowe was as much about leaving the Senate as she was about stepping away from the vilest elements of the Republican party.

There was a story in today's Washington Post by reporter Karen Tumulty putting statistics to a trend that has been obvious for sometime:  women in general are moving away from the Republican party.  A Wall Street Journal - NBC Poll last summer asked respondents which party should control Congress, and women selected Democrats by a four-point margin:  46% to 42%.  The same question in a new poll shows that gap has widened to 15 points:  51% to 36%.

The polling also shows that women's support of Obama has risen sharply since December, even though it remains flat among men.

Clearly the GOP is making some major miscalculations when it comes to the fairer sex - such as trying to eliminate insurance funding of contraception, waging its never-ending war on abortion, and almost totally ignoring Rush Limbaugh's slobbering "slut" tirade.   What self-respecting person could support a party that would deny her affordable contraception, refuse her an abortion when she becomes pregnant because she could not afford contraception, take away all government assistance that would help her to raise her child while holding down one or two minimum wage jobs, and then have to endure name-calling by some rich misogynist who has never had to raise a child?

It is almost as though the GOP is intentionally trying to drive women away.

And then there is the Republican problem with Hispanics, blacks, gays, intellectuals, artists, Girl Scouts, and everyone else except angry old white men.

It will be interesting to see how the Grand Old Party redefines itself after the Obama landslide of 2012.

It's All About Me!

by Pa Rock
Passenger on the Planet

It seems like just a couple of evenings ago that I was standing among thousands of people in Hanoi listening to rock music and getting ready to cheer in the New Year - and now it is almost the Ides of March.  Tempus fugit.

Today I finished my tax prep and mailed the mess off to my friend Lynn in McDonald County, MO, who will work her magic to get it all ready to file.  Last year I had to pay a bunch, and I am not expecting much better results this year.  One break might come with a small rent house that I own back in Missouri..  I paid out nearly fifty percent more in expenses on that little money pit than I received in rent during 2011.  Still, though, I am not expecting any refunds.

Tim and Erin and Baby Olive will be here in one month.  They will be on this small island about nine days, and I am so looking forward to their visit.  I have a bunch of interesting sites in mind to show them, so they will probably return to Kansas City tired.   I know that vacations always tend to wear me out.  But we will have fun while they are here!

I will be flying home (well, to Phoenix) for good on July 14th, marking the end of my two years in the Far East.  It has been a very good tour, and I have made some wonderful friends - people who I am sure I will be in contact with for many years to come.   Friends become extra-special when you are in a remote location, away from loved ones.

There are two things about Arizona that I don't like - the heat and the guns (oh, and also Joe Arpaio, Jan Brewer, the state's attorney general, and most of the legislature), but the one really great redeeming feature about the Phoenix area is its wonderful arts and entertainment scene.  There is live theatre in every part of the city, and some of the shows that I have seen there have been Broadway caliber.  So I will enjoy the nightlife.  I am also anxious to get back into the wonderful sauna at my old gym.

And time is flying, so I will be there soon.

The Rush Bust

by Pa Rock
Missourian


The "show-me" state is on the verge of showing a side of itself to the world that would be better left out of public view.

Missouri apparently has dedicated a portion of its beautiful capitol building to something called a "Hall of Famous Misssourians," and the way that a person gets inducted into that attraction is to be meet with the approval of the Speaker of the Missouri House, currently Steven Tilley of Perryville.  Speaker Tilley, in fact, has "unilateral" control over who is chosen for the honor.  The Hall displays bronze busts of famous Missourians.  Those previously honored include Lewis and Clark's Indian guide, Sacajawea, television host Bob Barker, philanthropist Dale Carnegie, John Ashcroft, and President Harry Truman.

Speaker Tilley now proposes to add two new members to the Hall of Famous Missourians.  One, slave Dred Scott who unsuccessfully sued for his freedom in the U.S. Supreme Court, is certainly worthy of recognition.  The other is perhaps a bit too recognizable already.

Speaker Tilley has selected Cape Girardeau native Rush Limbaugh for the esteemed honor of having his bronze bust placed in the capitol.  True, Tilley made that selection before the current "slut" controversy arose, but he is apparently not going to be influenced by all of those angry feminazis who were not amused at Rush's boorish and adolescent behavior.  The selection stands - despite the outrage from Democratic lawmakers who argue that "Mr. Limbaugh's greatest distinction during his controversial career has been his penchant for divisiveness."

One is led to wonder at least a couple of things:  Are there no women in Mr. Tilley's family?  And, how can Missouri afford that much bronze?

Inquiring minds want to know.

Sponsors Desert Sinking Ship, but Rat Hangs Tough!

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist


On the rare occasions over the past two days when I have had the time to access the Internet, there have been listings of more and more companies that are stopping their sponsorship of Rush Limbaugh's radio program.  Apparently the furor over Limbaugh's highly inflammatory and just plain mean remarks about Sandra Fluke shocked and sickened enough people to get them engaged with his sponsors - and not in a good way.

One of the last counts that I saw today said that thirty-five companies have pulled their sponsorship of Limbaugh's radio diatribes.  AOL is out, and so is Deere and Company - two giants in their respective fields.  Sears and Allstate have taken their advertising money away from Rush, and so has Geico (the gecko is said to be furious!).  AccuQuote is gone.  So are ServiceMagic, Hadeed Carpet, and Thompson Creek Windows.  Carbonite left a couple of days ago, and its CEO issued a stinging indictment of Limbaugh on his way out the door.  In fact, most of the companies that are leaving seem to be posting their exit statements on the web - they want people to know that they are finally through with the big buffoon.

And there is stuff happening to Rush on other fronts as well.  A few of radio stations have dropped his program, and there is a petition at whitehouse.gov urging Defense Secretary Leon Panetta to quit subsidizing Rush with out tax money by broadcasting his program on the Armed Forces Radio Network.  (Be still my heart!)  In fact, the Internet is fairly strewn with petitions dealing with Rush Limbaugh - and I have signed all that I could find!

So, along with the Arab Spring and the Occupy Movement, this is one more example of the power of social media.   The last time the world went through a shift of this magnitude, the dinosaurs died!

Power to the people...right on!

Mitt's Miserable Math

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist


It's a lackluster Tuesday evening in Okinawa, but the other Tuesday, the one described by a salivating press corps as the "super" Tuesday is just beginning to dawn in the United States.  Ten states will be choosing some of their delegates to the Republican national convention on this date - three by the hoary old caucus system where the party bosses get to flex their political muscle more effectively, and seven by primaries that allow people the opportunity to cast their ballots in secret.

This is the day when Mitt Romney, a.k.a. "Mister Inevitability," hopes to pull away from the pack by winning big and finally convincing people that he actually deserves the nomination - though why he deserves it still isn't readily clear.  Is it because of his experience as a CEO and his claims to be the business leader that the country needs?  Or is it because he is a son of privilege and, as such, has some inherent right to rule?  Or is it his amazing record as Governor of Massachusetts where he authored Romneycare?  Or his storybook family?  Or God's last attempt to save America from the degeneracy of people who fornicate while using birth control?  Whatever the reason, Mitt feels entitled to be the leader of the free world and he seems somewhat aggravated that he has had to work so hard for something that should have landed in his lap.

In one sense, Mitt is doing respectably well in the race to the White House.  So far there have been thirteen contests (caucuses, primaries, and one straw poll), and he has won eight of those.  Eight out of thirteen sounds pretty damned good.  But here's the rub, in all eight of the contests that he has won, the Mittster has yet to score a clear majority of the votes.  The best that he did was in the Nevada caucuses where he chalked up 50% of the votes in a state with a very large Mormon population.- but half is a frog's hair short of an actual majority.  He also won a primary in Arizona with 47.3% of the votes.

Other Romney "victories" include the caucuses in Washington state which he won with 37% of the votes, a straw poll in Wyoming (with only 2,000 voters) that he won 39% of the votes, a primary in Michigan where he had the home state advantage and could still only muster 41% of the votes, and a disputed caucus win in Maine where to state GOP intentionally failed to tabulate all of the votes - and where he received 39.2% of the votes.  (Ron Paul felt that he was robbed of votes and victory by the machinations of the Maine Republican Party.)  Mitt Romney also won primaries in New Hampshire with 39% of the votes, and in Florida with 46.4% of the vote.

Florida, Arizona, and Nevada were clearly Romney's best showings, yet all fell short of the magical goal of "majority" in all three.   It's hard to see inevitability in numbers like that.

What is the big voter turn-off when it comes to Mitt Romney?  Is it the Mormon thing?  Is it his wife's Cadillacs (plural), or his nice homes (plural)?  Or how about his admission that he likes to fire people?  Is it his flip-flopping on every substantive issue in the campaign?  Is it his shameless pandering to the religious fundamentalists?  Is it the way he treats his dog?  Is it the Swiss bank accounts?  Is it his complete lack-of-touch with the problems that real Americans face on a daily basis?  Is it his inability to pull one foot completely out of his mouth before inserting the other?

Is it all of the above or just most of the above?

Super Tuesday is the day that Mitt hopes to close the deal.  There will be ten contests - three caucuses and seven primaries.   Romney should do very well in the caucus state of Idaho, a very red and very Mormon enclave of people who don't have a particularly strong trust of government.  Idaho, in fact, could be his first clear majority victory, but it is also a place ripe for the pickings of Santorum, Gingrich, and even Paul.  Alaska and North Dakota are also caucus states that will meet on Super Tuesday to select delegates.

The primaries that will occur are in the states of Georgia (where homeboy Gingrich is favored to win), Massachusetts (which experienced Romney's "miracles" firsthand and perhaps has the clearest understanding of what his values were several years ago), Ohio (a biggie that Santorum hopes to win and where it will be almost mathematically impossible for anyone to receive a majority), Oklahoma (no comment other than Senator Doctor Coburn supports Romney), Tennessee, Vermont, and Virginia (where only Romney and Ron Paul managed to make it onto the ballot).  If Romney does not score a clear majority in Virginia, he needs to pack the Cadillacs and head to one of his homes!

It will be an interesting day and perhaps a long evening.  If Romney were to take the whole enchilada, which he won't, I still would not expect Santorum (he is on a crusade, literally) or Gingrich (who is just too mean) to drop out.  And Ron Paul is eternal.  The Republican race will head on into the summer, whether the party bosses like it or not.  They may get together in a wine-and-brie-filled room somewhere and figure out a way to guarantee Mitt the nomination before the convention begins, but by now it is apparent that he does not have the math or the political skills to do it on his own.

The Republican party has gotten itself into a fine mess - from their inability to control the tea-baggers, the Koch brothers, and even Rush Limbaugh, to their inability to find a sane grown-up to run for President.  It looks like this is shaping up to be a really sweet November for Barack Obama.  Perhaps that is as God intended.

Monday's Poetry: "The Bear Hunt"

by Pa Rock
Poetry Appreciator


A few weeks ago while I was researching some trivia on Abraham Lincoln, I came across information related to his life-long interest in poetry.  It seems that Honest Abe had a particular fondness for the works of Robert Burns and Lord Byron.

I found several references to Lincoln's "favorite" poem, an epic on the subject of death being the great leveler.  That poem, Mortality by Scottish poet William Knox, was clipped from a newspaper and given to Lincoln when he was a young man.  The copy he received, in fact, did not even bear the poet's name.   Lincoln was so taken with the work that he gradually memorized all fifty-six laborious lines of the piece - and would often recite it to family and friends.  Shortly before his death, an acquaintance heard one of Lincoln's recitations of Mortality and recognized it as a piece by William Knox.  The friend then sent the President a copy of a volume of poetry by Mr. Knox that contained the poem Mortality.

I had intended to present Mortality in this space (and it is readily available at other locations along the cyber highway), but after reading the poem, I discovered that I was not nearly as taken with it as Lincoln had been.  I also considered some of the poems written about Lincoln, such as Walt Whitman's O Captain!  My Captain!,  a work that has been reviewed and recited ad nauseam, as well as several others published shortly after his murder.  But those still did not feel like what I was after.  I wanted something that would reveal our 16th President as a real person, not as some legend of mythic proportions.

Finally I came across a couple poems written  by Abraham Lincoln.  The first, My Childhood Home I See Again was a bit sappy until it took a sudden detour into strangeness.  The second, however, The Bear Hunt, was fun and painted a picture of the poet as a bit of thrill-seeker and a humorist.   It follows.


The Bear Hunt
by Abraham Lincoln


A wild-bear chace, didst never see?
Then hast thou lived in vain.
Thy richest bump of glorious glee,
Lies desert in thy brain.

When first my father settled here,
'Twas then the frontier line:
The panther's scream, filled night with fear
And bears preyed on the swine.

But wo for Bruin's short lived fun,
When rose the squealing cry;
Now man and horse, with dog and gun,
For vengeance, at him fly.

A sound of danger strikes his ear;
He gives the breeze a snuff;
Away he bounds, with little fear,
And seeks the tangled rough.

On press his foes, and reach the ground,
Where's left his half munched meal;
The dogs, in circles, scent around,
And find his fresh made trail.

With instant cry, away they dash,
And men as fast pursue;
O'er logs they leap, through water splash,
And shout the brisk halloo.

Now to elude the eager pack,
Bear shuns the open ground;
Through matted vines, he shapes his track
And runs it, round and round.

The tall fleet cur, with deep-mouthed voice,
Now speeds him, as the wind;
While half-grown pup, and short-legged fice,
Are yelping far behind.

And fresh recruits are dropping in
To join the merry corps:
With yelp and yell,--a mingled din--
The woods are in a roar.

And round, and round the chace now goes,
The world's alive with fun;
Nick Carter's horse, his rider throws,
And more, Hill drops his gun.

Now sorely pressed, bear glances back,
And lolls his tired tongue;
When as, to force him from his track,
An ambush on him sprung.

Across the glade he sweeps for flight,
And fully is in view.
The dogs, new-fired, by the sight,
Their cry, and speed, renew.

The foremost ones, now reach his rear,
He turns, they dash away;
And circling now, the wrathful bear,
They have him full at bay.

At top of speed, the horse-men come,
All screaming in a row,
"Whoop! Take him Tiger. Seize him Drum."
Bang,--bang--the rifles go.

And furious now, the dogs he tears,
And crushes in his ire,
Wheels right and left, and upward rears,
With eyes of burning fire.

But leaden death is at his heart,
Vain all the strength he plies.
And, spouting blood from every part,
He reels, and sinks, and dies.

And now a dinsome clamor rose,
'Bout who should have his skin;
Who first draws blood, each hunter knows,
This prize must always win.

But who did this, and how to trace
What's true from what's a lie,
Like lawyers, in a murder case
They stoutly argufy.

Aforesaid fice, of blustering mood,
Behind, and quite forgot,
Just now emerging from the wood,
Arrives upon the spot.

With grinning teeth, and up-turned hair--
Brim full of spunk and wrath,
He growls, and seizes on dead bear,
And shakes for life and death.

And swells as if his skin would tear,
And growls and shakes again;
And swears, as plain as dog can swear,
That he has won the skin.

Conceited whelp! we laugh at thee--
Nor mind, that now a few
Of pompous, two-legged dogs there be,
Conceited quite as you.

Rush Limbaugh's Continuing War on Women

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist


Rush Limbaugh, a radio bully who keeps the yokels stirred up with his outrageous rhetoric and name-calling, has never been an especially big fan of women - particularly progressive and articulate women, a group he often refers to as "feminazis."  This past week he went off against a female law student at Georgetown University, and his personal vitriol toward the young lady proved to be so over-the-top and embarrassing to rational human beings - and his sponsors - that he was finally forced to issue an apology - of sorts.

The woman at the center of Limbaugh's volcanic eruption is Sandra Fluke.  Democratic members of the House tried to schedule Ms. Fluke, an expert in both reproductive rights and domestic violence, as a witness in Rep. Darrell Issa's hearing on the infringement of religious liberty by contraceptive mandates.   But the committee holding the hearing, a group of old white men, chose exclude Ms. Fluke from testifying saying that she had not been scheduled in a timely manner.  In fact, all of the witnesses that the committee wound up hearing were men - a fact not lost on the female members of the committee who walked out and refused to be a part of Issa's vagina dialogues.

Members of the Democratic minority in the House of Representatives decided at that point to hold their own hearing on the issue of whether insurance companies should be mandated to offer coverage for contraceptives.  Former Speaker of the House Nancy Pelosi was in attendance at that hearing, and one of the witnesses called to testify was Sandra Fluke.  A significant point that Ms. Fluke made during her testimony was that contraceptives are often prescribed for other medical issues besides protecting against unwanted pregnancies.  She recounted the experiences of a friend of hers who had to take  birth control for a medical reason unrelated to the purpose of contraception

So Sandra Fluke got to say her piece, albeit in a more limited setting than had originally been intended.  That should have been the end of Ms. Fluke's involvement in the matter.

But the Gasbag from Cape Girardeau wasn't going to let her get off so easy.  On February 29th, 2012, just six days after her testimony before the Democratic Members of the House, Limbaugh ravaged Ms. Fluke in one of his on-air tirades:

"What does it say about the college coed Susan (sic) Fluke who goes before a congressional committee and essentially says that she must be paid to have sex?  What does that make her?  It makes her a slut, right?  It makes her a prostitute.  She wants to be paid to have sex."

The very next day, March 1st, while much of literate America was still reeling from his venomous attack on Ms. Fluke, Limbaugh continued to spew.  After declaring that Ms. Fluke "is having so much sex it's amazing she can walk," he went on to make this outrageous offer:

"So, Ms. Fluke and the rest of you  feminazis, here's the deal.  If we are going to pay for your contraceptives, and thus pay for you to have sex, we want something  for it, and I'll tell you what it is.  We want you to post the video's online so we can all watch."

The following day, March 2nd, he lobed one more on-air bomb at the coed.   He claimed that Ms. Fluke has boyfriends "lined up around the block."

So much ignorance, so little time.

America's social media caught fire on this issue after Limbaugh's first assault on the young woman, and he apparently decided the best way to fight back was to keep sloshing gasoline on the flames.  That's the Rush modus operandi - get louder and louder and never back down, and soon people will bend to your will.  That seems to work with prominent Republicans who are in absolute terror of Limbaugh and live in fear that he will  one day turn on them - but it doesn't work with that portion of America who know how to read, write, cipher, and employ reason - most of whom have daughters, sisters, and/or mothers who use birth control.

Many reasoned that if Limbaugh was calling one woman a slut for using birth control, then he was calling all women who use birth control sluts also.   (And it was never even established that Ms. Fluke uses birth control herself - just that she has expert knowledge on the matter.)

So the online petitions went up demanding that Republicans repudiate Rush - and that his sponsors drop him. The responses from most prominent Republicans fell far short of outrage.  House Speaker John Boehner had his spokesperson state, "The Speaker obviously believes the use of those words was inappropriate" and he then went on to be more critical of groups who were fundraising off of Limbaugh's tirades.  Little Ricky Santorum noted about Rush, "He's being absurd, but that's you know, an entertainer can be absurd."  And Mitt Romney managed to put forth the weakest criticism of all by stating, several days after the outrages, "It's not the language I would have used."

In fact, the only presidential contender to show any cajones in this matter at all was Barack Obama.  The President (a father of two young daughters) called the Limbaugh remarks "reprehensible."  He also called Sandra Fluke personally to offer his support and to tell her that he was sure her parents are very proud of her.

It's nice to know that there is one adult running for President.

And then the sponsors checked in.  By March 3rd Sleep Train, Select Comfort, Quicken Loans, GoToMyPC, Citrix, Legal Zoom, and the Cleveland Cavaliers had all pulled their advertisements from Limbaugh's radio program.  It was when the money started talking that Rush Limbaugh finally caved and issued a weak apology to Ms. Fluke.

But Limbaugh's grumbling apology was too little too late for some advertisers.  Today David Friend, who runs an online backup company called Carbonite, said that his company is quitting Limbaugh and won't be coming back.  Mr. Friend has this to say:

"No one with daughters the age of Sandra Fluke, and I have two, could possibly abide the insult and abuse heaped upon this courageous and well-intentioned young lady.  Mr. Limbaugh, with his highly personal attacks on Miss Fluke, overstepped any reasonable bounds of decency.  Even though Mr. Limbaugh has now issued an apology, we have nonetheless decided to withdraw our advertising from his show.  We hope that our action, along with the other advertisers who have already withdrawn their ads, will ultimately contribute to a more civilized public discourse."

Amen, Mr. Friend.  Amen.

Rush Limbaugh may soon be relegated to relying on Glenn Beck's famous gold hucksters for his advertising revenue.

One final note:  The Harris organization released the results of a national poll today which showed Rush Limbaugh to be the least liked political pundit in America.   For Republicans, the top three least liked were:  Nancy Grace (25%), Rush Limbaugh (24%), and Chris Matthews (18%).  For Democrats, the top three  least liked political pundits were:  Rush Limbaugh (66%), Bill O'Reilly (45%), and Sean Hannity (23%).  The top three least liked political pundits of Independents were:  Rush Limbaugh (49%), Bill O'Reilly (31%), and Nancy Grace (25%).

So Rush's support comes from a minority of a minority - albeit a very mean minority - and those individuals are giving broadcasting life to a buffoon who hurls hate and stupidity with wild abandon.   Prominent individuals who should be standing up to him, are instead cowering in his wake.  It is well past time to have a more civilized public discourse,  and the most critical obstacle to be overcome along the road to civility will be Rush Limbaugh.

A boycott of sponsors worked with Glenn Beck, and it will probably be the only thing that will work with Rush Limbaugh.  All of us need to let his sponsors know exactly how we feel.

Sandra Fluke, stand tall.  You are a fine American and a credit to us all!

The Branson Tornado and Other Tales

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist


As someone who has called southwest Missouri home for many years, it is certainly not unexpected nor surprising to hear that another killer tornado has ripped its way through the area.  Last May 22nd Joplin was devastated.  This week it was Branson that suffered death and destruction from nature's unrelenting wrath.

(I know that many communities in the southern and midwestern United States have been hit with tornadoes during the past few days, and in a couple of cases entire small towns were apparently blown off the map.  I am saddened by what the people in those communities have had to endure.  But those are places I have only read about.  Branson and I have a history.)

From what I have been able to find on the Internet, thirteen people were killed and many fine homes and businesses were destroyed by this week's tornado - including at least a portion of the famous Branson "Strip" along Highway 76.

I first started going to Branson in the 1960's when I was in college in nearby Springfield.  Several of my friends had summer jobs at Silver Dollar City, including one of my roommates, Mike Rhodes, who was a train robber.  Mike got several of us into the park just after Labor Day one year when the workers were going through their closing activities.  One of the things I remember was members of the Herschend family (who still own Silver Dollar City) out on the water in a log-rolling competition.  (That was nearly fifty years ago.  The park stays open almost year-round now, capturing December tourists and shoppers with its beautiful Christmas lighting and other displays.)

The Beverly Hillbillies did four of their shows in and around Silver Dollar City in the 1960's.  My good friend, Carla Turnbough Brown, had been home to St. Louis due to the sudden death of her father.  When she flew back to Springfield, she happened to be on the same plane as the stars of the Beverly Hillbillies who were headed on to Branson for the taping of those shows.  Jim Franklin, another acquaintance from college, was one of a group of square dancers who were featured in one of those programs.

When my children were young we made several trips to Branson, primarily to play at Silver Dollar City.   At least three of the teachers that I worked with at Mountain View-Birch Tree had summer jobs or sold their wares at Silver Dollar City.  The park had plenty of fun rides, many which featured water and were known for soaking the riders, but I also enjoyed the shows and demonstrations.  That was the first place where I ever saw sorghum cane being turned into molasses - something that had been done commercially by my grandfather, Dan Sreaves, and his brother Jess many years before.

One trip to Silver Dollar City that I remember especially well involved me getting dragged into the center of a fairy tale show that was occurring outside in front of a couple of hundred people.  Our family, including Christian Lund Duchylard, an exchange student from Chile who was staying with us, was standing safely at the back of the crowd when the "star," a woman who looked vaguely familiar, scanned the crowd and made eye-contact with me.  She immediately rushed into the throng of people looking for a "volunteer," and though I couldn't put a name to her, I knew that we had some sort of history, and I knew that I was toast.    Judy Dockery, an old friend from college days, weaved her way through dozens of people who were clamoring to be part of the show, worked her way to the back of the pack, grabbed me by the arm, and said, "Let's go!"  A star was born - not!

As my kids began to get older, we started attending some of the shows on the Strip.  Tim was collecting autographs, and got several good ones during those outings.  Roger Miller was one of the first, and a couple of years later when he died at a way-too-young age, I remember Tim saying that he had his first "dead" autograph.  I also got a picture of him and Molly standing on either side of Willie Nelson.  It was in Branson where I saw Roy Clarke playing his fiddle to fast that the strings started smoking - really!

Molly and Tim and I were in a line to shake hands with Mickey Gilley at his theatre one night after watching his assault a piano for a couple of hours.  While we were waiting our turn to talk to him and let Tim get an autograph, I got to telling the kids about Gilley being a first cousin to Jerry Lee Lewis and evangelist/huckster Jimmy Swaggart.  When we finally got to the front of the line, Tim, who must have been all of eleven, decided to ask Mickey how his famous cousins were doing.  The piano player looked surprised at the question, and then came back with "Well, they're just fine, thank you."

Another memory that I have of Branson is when I was working with children in foster care with the Division of Family Services in McDonald County.  Most years at Christmas time we would take our teen foster kids to Branson for dinner and a show.  One year we went to "The Palace" where we saw the Rockettes.  Part of their show was a living nativity scene that featured actual animals including camels that were walked out on stage.  One of the boys asked me after the show if he could go out back and see the camels.  Being a caring social worker, I agreed - but tracked along behind him just in case he encountered any problems.  He found his camels, and I found a Rockette sitting on a bale of hay having a cigarette.   The foster kid and I both enjoyed visiting with our new friends!

Another time we took our teen foster kids to Jim Stafford's theatre for his Christmas show.  The Staffords had adopted two children through the Missouri Division of Family Services, and both were performing in his show.  After the show he invited all of our kids up on stage where he visited with them, answered questions, and signed autographs.  He was such a nice guy!

(The following year I was driving around rural Branson looking for people involved in child abuse hotline reports.  I was searching for a particular trailer park when I suddenly came upon a new mansion with a gate house sitting by the lake.  It was covered with about half-an-acre of Spanish clay tile roofing.  Eventually I found the scuzzy trailer park about half-a-mile from the mansion - there is no zoning in the Ozarks - and I asked the person at the trailer who owned the mansion.  Turns out that it belonged to the Jim Stafford family.

Okay this has roamed and rambled much like the curving, twisting highways around Branson.  My point was that I have been a friend of Branson's for half a century and feel for its suffering.  Some of the little towns that were hit by the savage storms may have a very hard time bouncing back, but Branson will come roaring back to life - all bright lights and endless music!

And one of these days I will again be sitting in the perpetual traffic jam on Branson's Strip wondering why I never learn, but that will be a tolerable inconvenience when compared to all that the city has to offer.  I look forward to seeing (and hearing) it again.

A Few Notes from Aunt Mary

by Pa Rock
Family Scribe


My Aunt Mary is one of the sweetest people in the world.  She is eighty-something years old and lives in a retirement community in San Diego, California, the city that she has called home for over sixty years.  Aunt Mary married my dad's older brother, Wayne Macy, just after World War II and they relocated to beautiful southern California from southwest Missouri.  They had two daughters, Janet and Linda, who both still live in the San Diego area.  Uncle Wayne died from leukemia in the 1950's, and though the family connection was technically broken with his passing, Mary was, is, and always will be my dear aunt.

I wrote to Aunt Mary a couple of months ago after mentioning in this blog that my mother and father were migrant farm workers in California during a couple of summers after the war.  I asked her to share any memories that she had of my parents during that time.  She responded with a little bit about that, and gave me some anecdotes about my parents and grandparents (Charles "Chock" and Hazel Macy) as well.  Those stories follow.

About the migrant fruit pickers:

"Yes, lots of people from the midwest went to California in the summer to pick fruit, nuts, etc.  Your Uncle Wayne would go to Brentwood and Porterville areas.  Peaches and apricots were in huge orchards.  There were camps set up for the "pickers" - tents, etc.  I was never there, but do remember them telling about it."

About my grandparents, Chock and Hazel Macy:

"Your Grampa Macy bought a car and wanted to learn to drive.  He had his brother Jack drive it home and out into a large field.  Chock got in and got it started but didn't know what to do next - so he kept going around in a circle yelling 'whoa, whoa!'  Finally he got it stopped and never tried again.  He stayed with the horse and buggy, or rode with friends."

"Your Gramma Macy was a worker.  She canned a lot of their fruit, mostly peaches and vegetables, and stored the jars under the beds.  They lived in a four-room house when I met them:  living room, two bedrrooms, and a kitchen.  There was an 'out-house for the toilet.  (Oh me!!!)  They had a smokehouse for curing a pig (or just smoking it)."  

"I grew up in Kansas City and had never seen or experienced the farm life.  I quickly found out it wasn't for me.  Hazel cooked on a large wood stove, swept the house to clean it, and washed on a washboard in a large metal washtub.  She killed, cleaned, and dressed chickens to take into Neosho to sell.  She did that to save money to buy Wayne a suit to wear."

About my parents:

"Wayne and I had  moved to California when your mother and dad got married (March 31, 1946), so I really can't say I knew Florine all that well.   I do know she was smart and a savvy businesswoman - and she said she wasn't going to get involved with the Macy problems. She told me that - not just hearsay.  She and your dad wanted to get ahead for a better life - and they did.  I remember your dad as always very kind and soft-spoken."

And here is a story of mine about Aunt Mary:

When my daughter, Molly, was preparing to marry her intended, Scott Files, a few years ago around Thanksgiving time, they were living in Oregon and wanted to have the wedding on a beach.  She got out her maps and selected Coronado Island (which really isn't an island) in San Diego - because it was about as far south as a person could go and still be in California.  The weather, hopefully, would be nicer than the dreariness of Oregon in November.

I had been to Coronado Island earlier that year and stayed at the beautiful del Coronado Hotel (the hotel that was used in the filming of the movie, Some Like It Hot.  When I learned that the wedding was to be on the beach behind the Del, I immediately phoned Aunt Mary to see if she would like to be my guest at the big event.  She gave and enthusiastic "yes," and I told Molly that I would be bringing a date.  Cousin Janet was also able to join us for the wedding.

At the reception following the wedding I called my dad back in Missouri so that he could wish the happy couple the best.  When I told him a few minutes later that Mary and Janet were there, he rushed me off the phone because he wanted to talk to them.  And they had a nice, long conversation.


Thank you Aunt Mary (Day, Macy) King for sharing your gems of family history.  I am placing them in this blog so that our descendants may enjoy them for years and years to come.  Much love to you!
    

Another Racist Email

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist


Richard Cebull is a federal judge, and in fact is the chief judge for the District of Montana.  He is also an excellent example of why people with obvious intellectual limitations, like George W. Bush, should never be allowed to appoint judges.

This week Judge Cebull sent out one of those knee-slappingly funny racist emails about the President that certain types of Republicans seem to enjoy so much.  He sent it from his chambers and it included his personal email address.  Here is the text of that email:

"A little boy said to his mother, 'Mommy how come I'm black and you're white?'  His mother replied, 'Don't even go there, Barack!  From what I can remember about that party, you're lucky you don't bark!'"

Judge Cebull said that he received the email from his brother and forwarded it to six "old buddies."  Apparently at least one old buddy sent it on, and the disgusting email eventually landed in the inbox of someone at the Great Falls Tribune.  Whoops!

Judge Cebull acknowledges that the subject matter of the email was racist, but adds that the email was supposed to be a private communication and was not intended to become public.  (Doesn't he understand just how non-private email is?)  Judge Cebull added that even though his email was racist, he does not consider himself to be racist.  (Here's betting that Bull Connor and Orval Faubus did not consider themselves to be racists either.)

The judge said that he is not a fan of the President and sent it out because it was "anti-Obama."  He said that it was intended as a private thing and was "very bad judgement on my part."  Ya think?

Can a federal judge with that level of animosity toward the President reasonably be expected to interpret federal law in a fair and balanced manner - particularly laws that might have originated with President Obama?

President Obama has been in office for nearly four years and still these racist emails keep being passed around by public officials - almost always Republicans and often on government computers and on the public's dime.  Can people really be so dumb as to expect that those emails won't keep getting forwarded until they eventually land in the hands of someone who does not see the humor?

Maybe Judge Cebull is hoping that by flying his partisan flags a President Santorum will notice and elevate him to the Supreme Court, but that is a bit far-fetched, even for Little Ricky.

What needs to happen - really needs to happen - is that Judge Cebull atone for his actions by resigning from the federal bench, or, failing that, face impeachment charges in the House of Representatives.   Judges impose consequences on others, and they should not be immune from consequences themselves.