Cardinal flew into our glass door and kilt himself. We feel
inordinately sad over it.
was in the kitchen, talking to her friend in Florida and watching the
Juncos go nuts over the seed she placed under the sandbox which,
perched on 6" legs, was somewhat protected from the snowfall.
blizzard. I paid
scant attention until my sonar picked up a sudden change in
"I'll call you back."
Momentarily she's in the den telling me that a Cardinal flew into
glass door, and was laying stunned in the snow. I said that
prolly dead, but no. She said he was trying to lift his
By the time I got there, the creature's leg position made it obvious
little little guy was dead. I scooped him up and brought
indoors. MoSup tried CPR (without the breahting); too late.
held a Cardinal before. Still warm, he was ridiculously
only feathers; no skeleton. Soft, like a woman's breast on a warm nigh
-- I digress.
"Throw him over the railing so the
other birds don't have to see him."
I don't want the other birds to know he's dead. (She is a saint)
I opened the door and gave him a mighty chuck; but he hit the
frame of an old swing with an ahdible whack and dropped all akimbo
onto the deck. He was covered completely by snow in just
minutes. Her reaction? "You
beast!" Like I did it on purpose.
I feel good that I'm still able to feel badly that this Cardinal will
no longer entertain us, but he has dozens of pals to keep the show
going. Means I still have humanity
(creatureaminty?) left, for innocent creatures anyway. If Gov.
ran into my window, I'd revive him with pee.
Wednesday, Nancy Pelosi issued a tweet claiming that raising the
minimum wage to $10.10 would...Continue
have posited that there exist genetic make-up which restrict
from understanding economics, national defense, or Adam Smith's
trickle-down theory, and permutations. Not everyone with
chromosome become Democrats; but ALL elected Democrats are "D chromed."
lot, then, will always become
liars as well.
explain away incredibly stupid statements that come back to haunt
political careers. Having no credible leg to stand on, they must
resort to making up sh*t and ridiculing accusers.
Elizabeth Warren is stupid; she is a
liar; and elected to the United States Senate by
people who live in Massachusetts— and we know about that.
Elizabeth Warren promoting the Robin Hood Tax.
article by Fred Reed pretty much describes a place that no longer
exists, but did, and should. It is the America most of us grew up
(though many of us grew up in cities, and had a different range of
regulation and lack of it). This article pretty much illustrates
the Tea Party would like to bring about: a nation of fewer
regulations, and only those really necessary. And of course with
few regulations, a lot of spending becomes irrelevant. Wish I
there today. - Skoonj
It is common for aging men, worn by the long years of drink and
skirt-chasing and strenuous dissolution in the fleshpots of Asia, or
any available fleshpots, to remember their youth in roseate hues that
never were. But, dammit, we really did go barefoot. And had BB guns.
And the dog could go anywhere it damned well pleased, and come back
when it chose.
Athens, Alabama in 1957 was a small Southern town like countless others
in Dixie with a statue of a Confederate soldier on the town square and
little evidence of government of any kind, which was well since it
didn’t need any. While the South had not fared well in its ardent
resistance to Federal regulation a century earlier, still there was
little meddling by Washington in my years there.
displeasure with Federal intrusion was remembered, though: When I moved
down from Virginia, I was to other kids “the damyank on the corner”
until I learned to wrap words in a comfortable padding of syllables, as
On the square. While Southerners are the most patriotic and martial of
Americans, they have the least use for Washington. In which I heartily
Although my father was a mathematician at Redstone Arsenal in
Huntsville, and perhaps entitled to social pretensions, he didn’t have
any. Consequently I lived as a half-wild disciple of Tom Sawyer. So did
most of the town’s boys. Come summer, we at first tentatively abandoned
shoes. No one thought this odd, because it wasn’t. Soon our soles
toughened to leather and we walked everywhere, even on gravel, without
And nobody cared. Oh sweet age of nobody cared. Child Protective
Services didn’t show up, officious passive-aggressive snots, to carry
my parents away. Today they would, droning censoriously of hygiene and
worms and crippling cuts from broken glass and parental
Many of my friends lost feet to these perils. To this day you can see
them rolling about in wheel chairs in their dozens.
Foot-nekkid and fancy free, we went to the Limestone Drug Store on the
town square, piled our ball gloves and BB guns inside the door, and
read comic books for hours. The owner, a frizzzly redheaded man in his
seventies whom we knew only as Cochie, liked little boys. Today this
would be thought evidence of pedophilia and he would be required to
undergo therapy and wear an ankle bracelet. Actually, Coochie just
liked kids. And since it was his store, nobody at corporate got his
panties in a knot because the comic books were read into virtual dust
without ever being bought. The Federal government had not yet regulated
small-town soda fountains to protect us.
Still there, fifty-seven years later. Much changed inside but the
current owners, whoever they are, had the decency to preserve the
orignial soda fountain.
The devastating plagues that swept the South in those years,
mysteriously unrecorded, were doubtless the result of bare feet in
BB guns, I said. We all had them. Most were the Red Ryder model,
costing I think $4.95 in as-yet uninflated currency. Mine was the Daisy
maybe one exception (nobody had a BB gun) Fred's remembrance of his
childhood in Athens, Alabama is identical to mine in Chicago, Illinois
(albeit on the very border of Des Plaines). However, if you
a .22 rifle and 12ga shotgun for the BB gun, things are identical with
my summers with grandparents in Indiana. I'm betting I'm