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Monthly Archives: October 2006


You’ve heard the saying before. When guns are outlawed, only outlaws with have guns. Well, now the PC crowd has decided that the age-old childhood game of Tag needs to be outlawed along with guns and pointy things and dodgeball and anything else that might offend someone or actually teach a kid some real lessons in life. To all of these PC’ers and politicians and bureaucrats who want to be into every aspect of every American’s lives – catch the clue bus – get out of the way.

Life is about Winners and Losers. Sometimes you’re IT.  Kids learn from playing games like Tag and Dodgeball and when I was a kid, mumbly-peg (played with a sharp pointed knife). When will this insanity end? When will Americans just get to the point that they have had enough of this BS? For me, I’m way past that point.

I was a kid during the 50’s and 60’s. Every boy I knew owned a pocketknife and took it to school – everyday. I never knew another kid who killed anyone with his pocketknife. For Pete’s sake, we play a game with knives in the schoolyard playground – in sight of the teachers. Back then, no one I every knew pulled out their knife and threatened anyone, much less killed them. You know why? Because our parents taught us better. Because when you got home you would have gotten your butt whacked with a belt or a switch because some neighbor would have called your parents and told them what you did. And there wasn’t any arguing about who told the truth either. The parent who ratted on you was telling the truth. Everybody’s parents kept an eye on everyone else’s kids. We stayed in line (except for the hoodlums – another post) because we knew the consequences. There are no consequences any more. They need to be taught to be more like a Timex watch than a Humpty-Dumpty – Take a licking and keep on ticking.

I really don’t know how I managed to make it through some 50 odd years of living. I played Tag and Dodgeball. Climbed trees 100 feet tall without adult supervision. Went swimmming in rock quarry lakes that had no bottom (they were a 1000 miles deep as far as we knew). Went off all day “exploring” on our bikes with no cell phone but had better be home by dinner time. Had rock battles at opposing fortresses hidden deep in the woods. Advanced to BB fights with slingshots – you knew not to shoot for the head – the “Kid’s Law of the Land” back then.

I really would hate to be a kid in this day and age. I feel sorry for them. No real freedom. No room to explore. No feelings get hurt. No winners or losers. Just a bunch of ignorant PC adults watching over them to make sure they don’t get a scratch or dent or ding or their feelings hurt. We’re building a nation of wussies, in my humble opinion.

Time to reverse the trend. Get out of the kid’s way. Growing up ain’t brain surgery.

Have a great day!

Richard

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Most of us hate to admit it but we all have a little “bubba” in us. By some definitions a bubba has qualities held to be characteristic of certain Southern white males, such as a relaxed or informal manner, strong loyalty to family and friends, and often an anti-intellectual bias and intolerant point of view. I am here to tell you that the anti intellectual bias is totally off base. For example I have friends who are PhD’s, physicians, business owners and attorneys who are bubbas. They are definitely loyal, they love Jesus (except those of the Jewish persuasion) and they are patriotic to the core. They are Democrats, Republicans, Libertarians and independents sharing a love of God and country and not afraid to state their thoughts in the field of public opinion. They (we) are often overshadowed by political correctness but true bubbas do not shy away from controversy or their beliefs.

Many of the bubbas I have known are truly characters and could fill many pages of manuscripts with their foolishness and their acts of kindness and their willingness to help those in need regardless of race or creed. Read on for a story of one bubba with a heart of gold.

Our story begins with one couple among a group of friends experiencing the birth of their first grandchild. This birth was the first grandchild in a group of 8 couples (most males in the group would identify with the term bubba) and was widely celebrated. What makes this event unique is the fact that the grandchild was born with Down Syndrome. This was not known prior to the birth and not expected by anyone. The group immediately took on the role of a support mechanism. Not expressing sorrow but celebrating the life of the child and performing numerous acts of kindness and love for the child, the new parents and grandparents. This support continues 7 years after the birth of the child and the child refers to all of these individuals as aunts and uncles. A bond never to be broken!

What does this have to do with being a bubba? Here is one example.

One bubba and his family were on vacation a few years after the aforementioned child was born. They were eating seafood in a coastal Florida restaurant when a couple was seated next to them. The couple had a child with Down Syndrome. Bubba remembering his friends decided to perform an act of kindness anonymously. He called the waitress over and gave her $100 bill and told her to use this to pay for the meal of the family who had been seated next to his table. He spoke to the family on the way out and mentioned that he had friends in a similar situation but never mentioned paying the bill. This is the same person who would go out of his way to assist anyone at any time and more stories will follow of his exploits.

I only wish more of us could be bubbas!

Bubba Terry


A few weeks ago I witnessed a scary incident with my grandson. My son and his wife and melded family of three kids were finally moving from his old home to a newly renovated home his wife of 1-year brought to the party. The adults were working away and the half dozen or so kids were playing and have a great time – not a care in the world – as kids will, and should, do. We hadn’t been working long loading the truck. The kids were playing on the neighbor’s trampoline between the two houses. They’re all above the age of 9 and need limited supervision.

The neighbor owns a Rottweiler – his name is Blade. The kids know the dog. Have for years. He’s a little agressive but all in all a good dog. Rottweilers are protective of their territory but are a good breed. Blade has shown aggressiveness on many occasions but the fence is marked “Keep Out” and the kids know to stay away from Blade and not to ever go in the yard or to aggrevate him across the fence.

During the loading of the truck and the playing on the trampoline, the boys manage to let their ball go into Blade’s territory – behind the fence – his domain. My grandson, 9 years old and smart as a whip, devises a plan to get the ball back. The other boys will divert Blade’s attention and he will retreive the ball through another gate entrance and sneak out before Blade sees him. Pretty good plan.

The plan works great until just before my grandson makes it to the gate leaving. Old Blade tracks him down and chomps down on the small and tender buttock of my grandson. And that is all Blade does. He didn’t continue to bite him or try to maul him or continue to attack him. Just one chomp to teach the kid a lesson … stay out of my yard!

Of course, you can imagine the panic and screaming and chaos that followed. Luckily, the kid is find. 48 stitches and a sore butt for a week. And old dad got to move his son and family with little help. But a mighty big lesson for a bunch of young boys.

Rottweiler. Fenced yard. Posted everywhere … KEEP OUT – BEWARE OF DOG.

People post signs for a reason. Read them. Teach your kids to read them and respect them. It ain’t brain surgery.

Richard


Perhaps I am becoming a bit more cynical in my adult years but for the life of me I cannot understand why the American public insists on re-electing the same individuals year after year. One prime example is Massachusetts. I know Edward (Teddy) Kennedy has the legacy factor working for him but my goodness the man can no longer create logical sentences. He crowns himself as looking out for the rights of the poor and underprivileged through the use of taxpayer money. Remember it is always easier to spend OPM (other peoples money) on social programs. The Kennedy’s have enough money to fund most of the welfare programs in Massachusetts without using Federal dollars.

The upcoming election could result in a lot of changes among the Beltway Barons. Should the reigning party loose a majority in the house we may see an awakening not witnessed since Rip Van Winkle. Perhaps those currently in office will see the error of their ways and realize that rule 13 is not for sissies. (Rule 13 was popularized by Gen. Norman Schwarzkopf, simply stated it says “When put in charge, take charge.”) Those currently in charge have wimped out on their constituents. (Think illegal immigration.)

Our elected officials now spend a majority of their waking hours strategizing how they will be re-elected. The game has changed from being public servants to one of leeching off the public. My fear is for future generations of American citizens who may end up paying exorbitant tax rates just to fuel the never ending needs of big government. Regardless of the great job George Bush and company are doing fighting the war on terror the fact remains that government expenditures and personnel have increased at rates far greater than under the great spender … Bill Clinton.

The time is right to shake up our majority and make them work for our votes. Our fear should not be the mid-term election of 2006 but rather the Presidential election of 2008. Change may be painful but sometimes it is good.

Expert gardeners all know that we need to trim our plants on a regular basis if they are to grow properly and in the correct shape.

It ain’t Brain Surgery!

Terry


I have to admit. I stole the title of this post from an ABC World News segment. This week, they are doing segments on health care and what can be done to fix it. This one last night got my goat. It just amazes me how these supposedly intelligent “leaders” can’t do anything right it seems any more. Discussions on reforming health care have been going on now for years and years. Lawmakers and politicians and burueacrats want to make out like there is no easy solution. Truth of the matter is … it ain’t brain surgery to fix the health system.

As you’ll read in the article linked above, the answer has been right in front of their Pinocchio noses all along. Representatives and Senators are part of roughly 8 million federal employees and their families, from postal workers to the president, who are covered by insurance that is flexible, affordable and transportable from government job to government job.  The plan is so good that it oughta be offered to ALL Americans. Why is it not?

Among its advantages is the competition it creates between providers, which results in lower costs. The federal plan is made up of more than 280 health plans available to federal workers across the country.  In New York alone, a federal employee can choose from among 18 plans

Advocates said that competition keeps costs low: While the price of private insurance premiums is expected to rise 7.7 percent this year, the federal plan will go up just 1.8 percent.   Okay … stop right here and ponder the previous statement a minute. 7.7 percent rise versus 1.8 percent rise. This ain’t a brain surgery decision.

“It can show you what choice can do, what choice actually means, what intense competition and cost control can result in,” said Robert Moffit of the Heritage Foundation policy institute.

Hmmmmm …. choice to keep costs down. What a novel idea. Sounds like good old, pure American capitalism and market demand to me. 8 million of your fellow Americans get this choice because they work for the federal government. You don’t. Your congressman (or woman) gets this kind of coverage but you don’t. Don’t seem quite right does it?

Folks, this ain’t brain surgery. Write your representatives today and tell them you want the same health care choices they have.

Have a great day!

Richard & Terry  


I love this country!  Where else in the known universe could you find a book on grilling for dummies?  Keep in mind that those of us raised in the South have been burning meat on open fires our entire lives and have some disdain for books on how to accomplish this feat. Grilling is not brain surgery.  You only have a couple of decisions to make.  The first is the type of grill you want to use.  Charcoal or gas.  True aficionados of grilling swear by the charcoal method and if this is your preference for heavens sake buy a good grill.  The Weber Kettle grill is a great grill for the money and the dampers on the lid work like a charm.  If you are really serious about charcoal cooking then dig deep in your pockets and purchase a Green Egg grill.  This thing is ceramic and cooks like an oven with grilled taste.  Personally, I have reached the stage in my life where I seek simplicity over GC. (Grilling Correctness)  A good stainless steel propane gas grill is hard to beat for ease of use and convenience.  They can be purchased for $300 or more and they immediately produce high evenly dispersed heat.  Steaks and burgers lack some of the flavor experienced with genuine charcoal cooking but speed and convenience are worth a little sacrifice.

The second and maybe the most important decision is the quality of meat you choose to grill.  If you go with cheap cuts of beef for grilling then expect the result to taste like a grilled wallet.  Spend the money and get a good cut of meat.  If you do not know how to choose the meat then by all means get a butcher to help you.  Pork and chicken will cook faster than you think so watch them closely.  If you choose to cook pork loins or other large meat portions I highly recommend you invest in a meat thermometer.  The alternative could result in spending the night in the bathroom swearing you will never again cook over an open fire.  Now, get out there and burn some meat.

Terry


If you have daughters, want to have daughters or are on the verge of having a son-in-law, you owe it to yourself to read the following. Regardless of what you may be told there are only two types of fathers of the bride. Those who pay for receptions and those who are glad they did not have to pay.  I speak with some authority here as both of my daughters had rather large weddings and big, boisterous receptions.

As the father of the bride your responsibility includes the following: Shut Up, Show Up and Pay Up.  Remember those three terms and you will maintain a happy relationship with your wife, your daughter, your family and your daughter’s new family. It ain’t brain surgery.

Shut Up

When your future son-in-law’s mother wants to publish the wedding invitation in the local small town newspaper don’t panic.  I told my daughter and future son-in-law that I would have two no-neck thugs dressed in tuxes checking invitations at the door of the reception.  This comment cost me in ways you do not want to know.

Show Up

As father of the bride you must meet and greet all the attendees at the reception.  This involves a lot of handshaking (Grinning & Grabbing) and you do not want to know where some of those hands have been lately.  You also will have the opportunity to hug all of the ladies.  This is a two-edged sword.  Hugging the young and well endowed females is fun as they often wear low cut dresses and enjoy full frontal hugs.  Your friends and entire family will watch your every move and report every indiscretion.  The other side of the sword is the hugs with the older ladies who use too much perfume and press you close to their aging bosoms while telling you how beautiful the bride and your wife look.

Pay Up

The pay up portion is the most painful.  You will look at every half eaten tidbit and bemoan the fact that someone took one bite from a $5.00 hors’d’ourve.  Your friends will slap you on the back and rave over the fact that you are financing their drinking binge. The 4 bottles of wine you ordered for 400 guests runs out in 30 seconds and by the end of the evening your alcohol count is at 90 bottles of wine and 3 kegs of beer plus a few mixed drinks.  The band informs you that they played an hour over the contract and they want more money and then your daughter runs to you with open arms, gives you a kiss and says thank you for a wonderful evening.  More wine anyone!!!

Terry