More Race Baiting From MSNBC... Surprise!

Two days ago, asked about Susan Rice removing her name from the consideration list for Secretary of State in President Obama's next term, MSNBC's Andrea Mitchell made the statement "I think that this had become sort of an impossible challenge for her to be confirmed, that she realized that -- the White House realized it as well. I think they know that they are on good political solid ground," Mitchell said. "This is not going to ... help Republicans at all, the fact that a woman and a woman of color has been forced out of a confirmation process even before she was nominated." 

Andrea Mitchell seemed to be alluding to Republicans being racist and gender biased.  After all, Republicans have a history of preventing African-Americans and women from being Secretary of State.  Just look at the Bush administration.  Bush chose Colin Powell and Condoleezza Rice for his Secretaries of State and they were both confirmed by the Senate and served their terms.  Obviously race and gender bias played a huge role in their selection and confirmations.  Maybe Ms. Mitchell should study recent history a little before opening her mouth with alluded allegations.  Maybe she would have realized that not only did Republicans have a "woman of color" as Secretary of State but her name was Rice.  Hey Andrea...   Duh!

It is my personal opinion that Susan Rice got a raw deal, both from the administration and from Republican Senators.  I think the administration set her up to take a fall when the information she presented to the public proved to be fictitious.  Perhaps it was a test of her loyalty in consideration for being nominated Secretary of State.  Or perhaps they just didn't want more lies about the video to come from the White House since they knew the truth would come out eventually.  Although that's not a likely scenario given the fact that a week later the President fed the same crap to the United Nations.

I also believe John McCain and Lindsay Graham, while they may believe what they're saying about Susan  Rice, are misguided.  They're blaming her for the misinformation she presented when, as I have stated, I believe that came from higher up.  Should Ms. Rice have checked and verified the information before presenting it to the world?  Maybe.  But in all honesty, who would question information given to them by the White House if they're loyal to the President, as she seems to be?  On either side of the aisle?

That said - I don't believe that McCain, Graham or any other Republican Senator opposing Ms. Rice's nomination are fueled by racism or gender bias.  Misguided or not, I think they're simply convinced that her statements concerning the Benghazi incident were so egregious that she should never be allowed to represent the United States as Secretary of State.  And apparently that's no longer an option.

I must admit, given the President's penchant for appeasing Islam at nearly every turn, I'm quite surprised he would nominate a woman as Secretary of State since she has to deal with Islamic nations where women are held as second class citizens.  Can you imagine a female Secretary of State trying to negotiate with Iran?  She'd probably be lucky not to be imprisoned or killed. 

OK, I'm rambling.  Time to end this.  I wish the left, politicians, supporters of politicians, and the biased, left-wing media, would get over the race thing.  Sure, there are racists in this country - of all colors, creeds and nationalities.  But whether the left will ever admit it or not, everyone who opposes President Obama's agenda, policies and/or actions does not do so because of race or gender.  Turning everything into a racial issue is decidedly a left-wing tool to get what they want.  It's time for them to grow up and act like responsible adults.  Responsible adults discuss things without making silly, baseless allegations.

Parranda 94 - A Gringo's Second Christmas in Puerto Rico...

T'was the night before Christmas, and I'd been to the store -

"Parranda" was coming and I had to prepare.

I knew all my friends would be coming tonight,

And this year - I was doing it right.

I'd slept all day and ate rather hearty,

Getting ready for the all night party.

I showered, shaved and dressed kind of fancy

Anticipating the singing and dancing.

I bought cheese and jamón, chips and dips,

Bacardi with fruit punch and cokes to mix.

Dulces and postres would also be served,

And cañita and beer for those who preferred.

I went to the kitchen to prepare all the food

(This year the party was going to be good).

I cut and arranged everything different ways

and covered it all on serving trays.

I began working a little past 8,

But I knew that parrandas don't start until late.

By 9:30 I had everything done,

And sat down anticipating the "full night of fun".

At 10:45 I heard two car doors slam

And ran to the window, convinced it was them.

But it was only my neighbors returning home,

And I started to wonder what time they would come.

At 12:45 I prepared my first drink,

Then cleaned up the dishes I'd left in the sink.

I was sure that soon the parranda would come,

And I left the lights on so they'd know I was home.

At 1:30 I turned on my VCR

And sat down in the chair with the cañita jar.

I'd watch a movie to pass the time,

And drink some cañita and coke with lime.

By 3AM I was getting tired,

But I knew at that hour - Asopao was required.

I staggered to the kitchen to get everything ready,

(I was really quite drunk and my legs weren't too steady).

I got out the recipe and started to read

But it was in Spanish - unfortunately for me.

So I cooked it the way I'd been taught by a friend,

Hoping "gringo" soup would be alright with them.

I fell asleep in the chair around 5,

Passed out drunk waiting for them to arrive.

Later that morning I moved to the bed

After taking some aspirin for my aching head.

My clothes were a mess and my mouth tasted bad,

And I went back to sleep a little sad.

But on Christmas day - at least I ate good.

My refrigerator was full of uneaten food.

I guess each parranda is never the same.....

This year I was ready - and nobody came!

 G. Clark

Union Thugs Assault Dissenters In Michigan... Where is President Obama?

In January of 2011, following the shooting of Congresswoman Gabrielle Giffords in Tucson, Arizona, President Obama urged us all to “make sure that we are talking with each other in a way that heals, not a way that wounds.”  The President advocated “a more civil and honest public discourse” in the wake of the Tucson massacre.

I'm looking at the violence dealt out by union thugs in Michigan over the last couple of days and can't help but wonder - where is President Obama?  Where are his demands for talking to each other in a way that heals and a more civil and honest public discourse?

OK, I suppose the union thugs are being honest.  They hate anyone who threatens to take away power and money from the union so I guess they're expressing their honest thoughts.  But what about civility and talking in a way that heals?  So far it seems those people who have been attacked and beaten and/or who have had their business destroyed (as in the case of the hot dog vendor whose hot dog cart was demolished) are the ones who need to heal.  But they're not going to get any sympathy or encouragement from the union thugs who attacked them.

The union guys aren't even shy about what they're doing.  Yesterday, on camera, they attacked a FOX News reporter and hit him several times.  So  why isn't the President speaking out about union violence?  Could it be, perhaps, unions donated just over $400 million to Obama's re-election campaign?  Could it be that in exchange for his support of unions they gave huge amounts of money to  get him re-elected and therefore buy his silence in these current matters?

We all know President Obama is pro-union.  He has made that clear on numerous occasions.  However, given his comments when a Democrat Congresswoman was senselessly gunned down, wouldn't it make sense for him to condemn the violence being perpetrated by the unions in Michigan?  Or do civility and healing only apply when something bad happens to someone on the left?

It's sad, really, but also very telling when the President remains silent while these things are going on.  Most likely the mainstream media isn't reporting on much of the violence.  After all, they're behind the President all the way.  But you know someone at the White House has 24 hour FOX News duty so it's inevitable that President Obama is aware of what's happening in Michigan.  Unless, of course, like Benghazi, they just don't think it pertinent to tell the President or Vice President what's going on...  wink, wink...

What the unions and the main stream media don't want people to know is that right to work  laws don't interfere with unions and their business.  They only interfere with their cash intake because in a right to work state the unions can't force people to join or to pay dues to them just to get a job.  And they allow the individual to decide if he/she wants to join a union rather than allowing the unions to force membership.  So certainly, unions are upset about it.  They'll lose revenue when they can't force someone to pay dues.  And much of that revenue goes to politicians who support their causes.

I hope Michigan's economy grows exponentially because of this new law.  And I hope more union-only states follow suit.  Statistically, right to work states have a higher job growth rate and higher real income rate than union-only states.  And union-only states have more unemployment.  Those are statistics that unions don't want us to know about.  But don't take my word for it - here's the link to the federal government's statistics:  

http://www.senate.mo.gov/10info/members/d27/taxcredits/Right%20to%20Work%20Statistics.pdf

So  you can believe the unions - that union labor is the only way to go, or you can believe the truth - that right to work states produce more, employ more, grow the economy more and provide relief for those who need work.  Unions would rather a family starve than accept a non-union job.  Seems to me their priorities are a bit screwed up.

Did The Australian DJs Kill The British Nurse?

For the last few days I've been listening to the ongoing sage of the nurse in England who killed herself over information she mistakenly gave out to a couple of radio DJs in Australia who made a prank call to the hospital where Kate Middleton was admitted.  The DJs pretended to be Queen Elizabeth and Prince Charles and the nurse apparently believed them and unknowingly gave them updated information on Kate's condition over the air.  A day or two later, once the hoax was discovered, the nurse killed herself.

What I find most interesting is the number of people who are not only condemning the DJs for their actions but blaming them for the nurse's suicide.  The DJs have been fired from their jobs and will most likely never work in radio again because a seemingly practical joke ended tragically.  But who's fault is it, really?

Radio DJs have been making prank calls on the air for as long as I can remember.  It's done in the name of entertainment and fun.  This call to the hospital was simply that - a prank.  No  life changing information was given out by the nurse and while the nurse did release private information about Kate and probably would have faced some sort of disciplinary action over it, her actions were understandable given the fact that she truly believed she was talking to the Queen of England.  The fact that she killed herself over it,  leaving two small children behind, to me indicates she had underlying problems that led to such a desperate act.  And I don't think the DJs are at fault for that.

I was listening to Mark Davis this morning - a well known conservative radio talk show host in Dallas who I really enjoy.  He was saying the same thing I'm saying with one exception - he says he is very angry at the DJs for making the  prank call.  I can't share that sentiment.  I watched an interview with the two DJs last night and they both wept while they spoke of the incident and how badly they wish they could take it back.  And I believe them.  And decent human being would feel terrible about someone committing suicide over something they were involved in.  But are they at fault?  I don't think so.

Emotional instability is impossible to predict.  The DJs did nothing that was physically harmful to anyone involved.  I've seen practical jokes played on people (even on TV) that could easily result in physical harm to someone.  I've seen jokes played on people who, if they were emotionally unstable, could react very badly.  But who is at fault for that emotional reaction?  If a person is mentally unstable they may not be responsible for their actions.  But who can tell?  And if they are not mentally unstable but have difficulties no one knows of and they react in the most dangerous and serious way possible, taking their own life or that of someone else, are they themselves not ultimately responsible?  Can we really blame one person (or in this case, two) for the action of another?  Will we eventually become a society where no one is allowed to joke with another and practical jokes become outlawed because someone, somewhere, might react badly?  I certainly hope not.

Of course, this is only my personal opinion and I'm sure some will disagree with me.  I have no mental health degree or license.  I do, however, have plenty of experience working with and evaluating the mental and emotional stability of people.  Anyone who works (or who worked) in corrections and law enforcement, as well as the medical field, gains that experience over time.  I don't think I'm that far off.

I welcome the opinion of anyone who disagrees.  Please let me know if I'm wrong and why you think so.  But please be detailed - don't just say "because the nurse is dead."  That much I know.  My goal is  to determine who should  be held accountable for it - the DJs or the nurse.

A Gringo's First Christmas in Puerto Rico...

When I was in Puerto Rico working for the Federal Bureau of Prisons (93-97), I learned about and participated in a custom called "Parranda".  It's a great Cristmas custom for the strong of heart.  A group of people get together to sing and entertain selected friends by knocking on their doors and performing, then invite the "victims" to go along for the ride.  That is, after eating and drinking whatever the first house has to share.

Many people join in and go along.  The group tends to grow throughout the night and keeps going from house to house until the wee hours of the morning.  (I'm talking sunrise...)  As the members of the group keep drinking and the crowd grows, the party gets more and more raucous.  But it's all in fun.  Whoever the last person is on the list is supposed to make Asopao, a traditional chicken and rice soup that is supposed to sober everyone up for the drive home.  It's a great finish to the long night and I enjoyed it so much I participated three out of four years.

I took the time to write down my experiences and will share them over the next week or so.  I hope you enjoy them.  And to my friends and co-workers in Puerto Rico...  Feliz Navidad a todos.

Oh - and Chuck - this one's for you because you were with me!

A Gringo's First Christmas at MDC Guaynabo               

T'was the night before Christmas, and all through the house

everyone was tired, including the mouse.

I'd finished putting the toys all together,

sweating all over in the hot, humid weather.

The children were nestled and snug in their beds,

as visions of boogie boards danced in their heads.

And I layed on the bed in my pillow so deep,

settling down for a nice, long sleep.

When out on the street there arose such a clatter,

I jumped from the bed to see what was the matter.

I ran toward the window, tripped over the rug,

and landed on my face with a thud.

The moon shining down on that dark, dreary night

about halfway made up for the broken street light.

And I thought to myself as I rubbed my sore head

"Who's the idiot who put that rug by the bed?"

I looked out the window at the street below

and wondered what Christmas was like without snow.

When what to my wondering eyes should appear,

but Sicci Rodriguez, drinking a beer.

He had his quatro tucked under his arm

and smiled at me with his usual charm.

"Feliz Navidad!  Merry Christmas!" he said.

And suddenly I wanted to get back in bed.

I knew that "Parranda" had come to my house

and everyone would probably be soused.

Eight or nine friends got out of two cars,

each looking as if they'd come from a bar.

There was Ruben Cuadrado, dressed to a T,

complaining he really needed to pee.

Laborde, Segarra, Santana and more,

and they were all headed straight for my door.

They entered the house, playing the güiro,

(Ruben was checking himself in the mirror)

dancing and laughing and smelling like rum,

well on their way to a full night of fun.

The polite thing to do was offer them food

but I knew that I had nothing good.

I went to the kitchen and looked in the cupboard,

feeling a bit like Old Mother Hubbard.

I got out some cheese and cut it in pieces,

and put it on a tray with some Reese's.

I pulled some bologna out of the 'fridge,

quickly cutting the green stuff off of the edge.

Some slices of bread I put 'round the edges

and garnished it all with tomato wedges.

I got out the last of my Bacardi,

and a jar of cañita I'd been saving for me.

A gallon of fruit punch to use as a mixer,

(I was hoping they were already plastered.)

I carried everything out to the table

and yelled "Come and get it, while you're all able!"

They kept right on singing as they moved toward the food

and Ruben said "Hey - this looks pretty good".

As the singing went on I began to have fun.

Then someone said "It's time to move on.

Get your clothes on and get ready to ride.

You're the only one sober and you have to drive."

I knew that I was supposed to go with them

and party all night in the oldest of custom.

So I said "What the hell" and took one for the road

thinking "Maybe I can get drunk while we go".

We went house to house, with the crowd growing larger.

(Driving my car was getting much harder.)

We sang and we laughed and we drank lots of rum,

But I realized I was having a lot of fun.

I was included in Puerto Rico tradition

And enjoyed it more than a good day of fishing.

At the last house we ate Asopao.

And I couldn't help thinking "This is great chow!".

The party was still going strong at the end,

even though a few people were sleeping by then.

The music had changed to the stereo

with occasional tunes from Sicci's quatro.

When daylight came it was time to go home.

We'd eaten the food and drank all the rum.

Poor Sally was left to clean up the mess

left over from thirty uninvited guests.

This Christmas tradition was sure lots of fun

I just hope next year we can start in my home.

                       G. Clark

The Fine Line Between Feeling Respected And Feeling Old...

Some of you know that just about four years ago my nephews (Aaron and Jim) invited me to play disc golf with them.  It was Christmas Day, 2008, and I was spending Christmas with my sister's family in Columbus, Ohio.  Apparently it was tradition for Aaron and Jim to go out to the disc golf course after the Christmas Day feast, regardless of the weather, and play a round of disc golf.  For those of you who don't know what that is - some people call it Frisbee golf.  You play it like regular golf except that instead of a ball and clubs you throw a smaller, modified and more aerodynamic disc, similar to a Frisbee except that it's faster and flies much farther.  (The longest recorded throw of a golf disc that I know of is 820 feet - which is just under 1/6 of a mile.)

The object of the game is to fly the disc from the tee to the basket (used instead of a green and cup) in the least amount of throws or strokes.  Many courses have par 3, par 4 and even par 5 holes and there is now a professional disc golf association.  Pro players can make up to a whopping $15,000 a year....!

Anyway, I played with them that day with the temperature in the mid 20s and about three inches of snow on the ground.  I went out expecting it to suck and they took me expecting to have a good laugh.  What they didn't realize is that I grew up in the age of Frisbees.  The first professional model hit the market in 1964 but they started getting really popular in the early 70s.  Everyone in my neighborhood had one and we would play in the street.  So when I threw my first tee shot that day, both Aaron and Jim were surprised that I actually seemed to know what I was doing.  And much to my surprise, by the time we finished playing that day I was hooked.  I enjoyed it.  It's great exercise, does take some skill (to be any good) and it's mostly free.  You have to invest in the discs themselves, (which can cost up to $25 apiece, but most courses are free to play.  There are a few that charge and some ask for donations.

By mid-summer I began winning games against them on a regular basis, much to their disheartenment.  Of course, to be fair, they both had full time jobs and I was retired and only working part-time a couple days a week, which left me a lot of free time to go out and practice on my own.  So on the weekends we'd get together and suddenly I started beating them at their own game, literally.  Not every game but enough to make them say "Why did we teach him this game?"  And being very competitive between ourselves, we enjoyed trash talking each other as much as playing the game itself!

But this post isn't about disc golf itself.  It's more about the day I had yesterday at a disc golf course here in Texas.  Arden asked me to take her to a beading circle.  In her very limited spare time, she hand makes jewelry and belongs to a beading club.  They meet for an afternoon of beading and conversation every second Sunday of the month and spend from noon until 5 o'clock working and having fun.  She doesn't get to go each month so she really wanted to go yesterday.  She suggested that I drop her off and go down a few more miles from her location to a disc golf course that I'd been talking about but hadn't played yet.  I thought that was a great idea - I had five hours to kill and could get in a game, get some exercise, then hit a Starbuck's or Panera Bread and get my computer out to pass the rest of the time.

After church, which yesterday consisted of the "Singing Christmas Tree", we loaded up the things we needed and headed out.  Her meeting was about 30 miles from the house, in Arlington.  The disc golf course was about 10 miles further.  So I got her settled in the store where they had their get-together and I headed on down the road to find the park where the course is.  It turned out to be fairly easy.  It was actually a state park and there were two 18 hole courses within the park.  It wasn't crowded at all so I was able to get started right away.  I played the first six holes and caught up with a young couple who'd been playing in front of me.  They were sitting on a bench on the number 7 tee waiting for some friends.  Apparently they were warming up for their friends because the #7 tee was right by the parking lot where they could join their friends when they arrived.  As is custom in all forms of golf, they allowed me to play through.  His exact words were "You can play through, Sir.  We're waiting for someone."

I thought him very polite and thanked him, then asked him if there really was a second 18 hole course.  He responded "Oh, yes, Sir.  You follow that path around to the left and the first tee is up about halfway across the field on the left."  I thanked him again.  He said "You're welcome, Sir." 

I took my next shot and it was one of my better ones for the day.  From behind me I heard "That's the way to do it, Sir."  OK, the Sir thing was getting old.  Maybe this kid was just raised by proper Texas parents and learned to say Ma'am and Sir at a young age.  He was being very respectful to me but making me feel a little old by that time.

I moved on and eventually caught up with another threesome on hole #14.  I completed #13 and walked up on them on the next tee.  They had just finished their shots but since I was alone they again allowed me to play through.  "You can go ahead and play through, Sir" said one of the young men.  There it was again.  "Sir."  These guys were between 25 and 35 and I didn't FEEL like I was that much older than they were.  I threw my tee shot and thanked them for allowing me to play through.  "You're welcome" one of them said.  "Have a good one, Sir."

By this time I was wondering if my hair had turned  more gray overnight or if I looked like I needed a wheelchair.  I thought I looked pretty good out there.  No electric cart, no one carrying my disc bag for me....

I finished up the last hole on the first course and stopped at the van for some water and to sit for a minute.  These courses are over a mile long and wind through the woods, up and down hills.  So I took about a five minute break and headed to the second course.  I still had three hours to kill and figured I might as well check out the other one.  I was alone on the tee and could see no one in front of me at all.  I threw my first tee shot and it was a beauty - the disc rode the wind for almost 300 feet.  That always make one feel good.  When you throw a disc and it carries on the wind just right and sails 300+ feet down the fairway it just feels good.  That is, until some young kid throws one that beats your throw by at least 100 feet.

I had the first three holes to myself, then caught up with a foursome that I hadn't seen because the course cut through the woods.  They told  me I could go ahead and none of them called me "Sir."  I was feeling better already.

I played that hole and then had to wait for another foursome to finish the next one.  I caught up with them on the next tee.  It was the couple I had seen earlier and their two friends.  The young man I had talked to earlier said "So you found the second course, I see."  He didn't call me "Sir."  I appreciated him for that.  They had already made their tee shots and were getting ready to walk away.  We chatted for a couple of seconds and he said "Why don't you go ahead and play this hole out with us then you can go ahead of us on the next tee."  So  I did.

I threw my tee shot and it turned out pretty decent.  We started walking ahead, still talking about the game and the different courses we've played.  One of the guys threw a second shot and it went in the same vicinity as my first one.  When we got up to it, his disc was actually laying on top of mine.  The second friend pointed and said "Look at that.  You're on top of him."  I looked at him, looked at the owner of the second disc and said "And we don't even know each other!"  Everyone laughed and we finished the hole.  I thanked them for letting me play through and wished them a good afternoon.  One of them, probably that nice young man I had met first, said "You too, Sir."  AAAGGGGHHHH!!!!!!!

I caught up with one more group, again on hole number 14.  There were six total and most of them were in their 40s.  They also let me play through and none of them called me "Sir."  It's a good thing because I was starting to feel a little like Oddjob in the old James Bond movie and I had a bag full of "hats".   I finished without incident.  The six guys were very helpful in guiding me toward the end of the course and telling me about a few other courses I should try.  When we parted I thanked them and wished them a good day.  They wished me the same.  No patronizing, no making me feel old.  It was refreshing.

I don't mind getting older, I suppose.  Oh, sure - there are days when I feel older but often, aside from a knee that's been bad since my 20s and a bit of arthritis in my shoulder, I feel pretty good.  My mind still  feels young and some people say I sometimes act immature.  Is that the same thing?

Being called "Sir" six times in one afternoon by at least three different young men made me feel a bit older than I wanted to.  However, I could look at those boys collectively and know that most of them will never have the experiences in life that I've had.  So that makes up for it a bit.  There are things I would change in my life if I could, but not many.  So if the life I've had and the years I've lived means youngsters are going to call me "Sir", I guess I can live with it.

Courage To Stand Up For Your Beliefs

I watched "Last Ounce of Courage" yesterday with  Arden.  It was everything I expected it to be and more.  The  message of Christmas and its true meaning, family and love were awesome, particularly in this day and time, when Christmas and Christianity seem to be coming under attack on a regular basis.   And the strong theme of standing up for what you believe in regardless of how difficult it is, is a powerful message.

After the movie I wanted to see where it was filmed.  There were some beautiful scenes in the movie with mountains in the background.  As I was watching the credits I began listening to the words of the closing song.  The song, I discovered, is called "This Is Freedom", by Justin Unger.  I enjoyed the lyrics to the point that I thought I'd share them here. 

This Is Freedom

The red is for the blood that flows, in places we've forgotten                                                                    The white resembles innocence, in some ways we've been lost in

The blue it stands for vigilance and holding fast to righteousness -  or have we lost our way?
The stars are for the memory, the glory and the victory where proudly we can say
Oh, this is freedom
This is freedom

Where strength and confidence collide, along the straight and narrow
When peace is found in sacrifice, by patriots and heroes
Where grace abounds and evil dies, truth resounds above the lies,
It's only found one way and here we are today
This is freedom
Freedom

This rock we stand upon,
One nation under God,
This truth we can't ignore
This is freedom

A home that speaks of liberty, beyond our institutions
If this is a reality, then where are the solutions?
A place that we can stand and sing, the worship of our risen king without regret or shame
The hope of life eternally, we hold a light for all to see without a guilt or blame
It's what we claim, oh
This is freedom
This is freedom
This is freedom, this is freedom

Even though the fight is long, the enemy may wound us
The stripes are for the rays of hope, that never cease to lead us
Guide us home, this is freedom

Great movie.  Great song.  I recommend both.