tombeane-blog

[tombeane-blog]

Me Want More Carrot

05/18/2025

Headline from this morning's Oregonian.

"Homelessness continues to rise in Portland area even as increased services help thousands"

(Overheard at City Hall.) "I don't understand. We've given them cell phones, counseling, sympathy, money, health care, tents, drugs, clean needles and anything else they've asked for." "And none of them have cleaned up and gone looking for a job. Even worse, there seems to be even more of them than ever before." "I just don't understand. Maybe they need more money?"

You want more of something. Support it. You want less of something. Don't Support it.

Or, as my dad taught us. Small Carrot, Big Stick.

When did society forget all this?

[tombeane-blog]

We Need A New Statue

I'm a little disappointed in our President.

I don't know if this is serious enough to require me to fly back to Washington to provide my counsel or not.

So I think I'll just throw my idea out there and see if a groundswell of public sentiment will get back to The Donald and alter America's direction for the better.

Recently, The Donald announced reopening Alcatraz to imprison the worst of the worst. Big long term project.

I have a better idea.

We demolish everything on Alcatraz Island. Turn it into a Big Beautiful National Park. Rename it Trumpatraz Island.

And smack dab in the center we erect a statue almost exactly like the Statue of Liberty. Same height and everything.

Only instead of a torch, Lady Liberty's twin sister will be holding a copy of the U.S. Constitution.

Her other hand is held high vigorously Waving Goodbye To All The Illegal Aliens.

And inscribed on the base:

"Take back your drug mules, child traffickers, your indolent masses yearning to get stuff free, The wretched scumbag refuse of your teeming shore. Send back these criminals, psychopaths, rapists and pedophiles tempest-tost to me. I lift my lamp beside the golden exit door!"

Lady Liberty welcoming legal immigrants on the East Coast and her twin Sister waving goodbye to all the illegal immigrants from the West Coast.

"Yes Mr. President, feel free to use my idea. … Yessir. … You're too kind. … You're welcome."

https://tombeane-blog.tumblr.com/

[tombeane-blog]

I’m Depraved On Account I’m Deprived

April 5, 2025

"Cold-hearted orb that rules the night, Removes the colors from our sight, Red is grey and yellow-white, But we decide which is right… …and which is an illusion" The Moody Blues - Nights In White Satin / The Day Begins

"Why the long face Tom?" "I am so not looking forward to this new blog Vern." "mmmph, mumble.. a whole lot of people on your email list probably feel the same way." "Wait. What?" "Never mind Tom. What is it about this particular blog that has you down?" "I'm afraid that I may, just may, tick some people off."

Nevertheless…

Somewhere in Wyoming, 1885. Your wagon train is in the middle of a vast fruited plain, heading west. Nowhere to hide. Out of water. Your group has eaten the last of your cattle. All of a sudden you are surrounded by angry indigenous Americans hell bent for leather. A Whoopin' and A Hollerin'. Firing flaming arrows hither and yon. It's the worst possible time for your stress related fear syndrome to flare up. To make matters worse, you are out of medical marijuana and the wagon train's psychologist is nowhere in sight…

When did dealing with life's bumps and bruises and all actions outside society's norms become a medical issue?

When did so many people start to need talking circles, therapists and pills to fit in and survive life? (I thought that's what bartenders were for.}

Is society just pretending everyone is a medical victim 'cause there's so much money in it? Are they taking advantage of the fact that so many people today want to be a victim?

It used to be that almost everyone fit into a very large box called normal. There was lots of room in that box to be eccentric or odd but still be normal. And everyone accepted that stepping outside the box came with consequences. A very tiny few could not fit into that box and we called them weird or nuts - and we tolerated, ignored, treated or ostracized them. Now, anyone outside a very very small box called normal is categorized with some sort of medical or mental condition. And, criminals need to be treated, not held accountable. Wasn't their fault, they should be acknowledged, celebrated, supported and enabled.

Boys used to be highly energetic and rambunctious but they were still well inside the normal box. Now they are outside the box and quickly diagnosed with ADHD and prescribed chemicals to calm them down. Later in life they can trade their ADHD for PTSD if they want to continue avoiding responsibility.

Seems like a huge percent of the population are now victims with a mental condition requiring psychiatry, psychology, psychoanalysis or some other psycho treatment.

As you have already guessed, I'm not big on pretty much any mental condition being treated by talking to someone about mommy. And all because their actions are outside of society's new teeny tiny normal box.

And anyone can become a a victim just by self identifying.

"I’m depraved on account I’m deprived" "Action" in West Side Story - "Gee, Officer Krupke"

And I'm skeptical of people actually being cured by any of the psychos - especially if it requires decades of treatment. IMHO they are never really "cured". They just learn to modify their actions or deal with their problems just like the rest of us do on our own.

If "let's sit in a room and you talk to me and you will be cured" works, why do the psychos prescribe so many chemicals?

Don't get me wrong. There absolutely are serious mental conditions. Some are age-related, some related to a psychological trauma and some physical in nature. These people deserve love, dignity, respect and every available treatment to help them.

But let's be honest, that doesn't apply to everyone who steps outside the box.

I'm talking about criminals, ne'er do wells and narcissistic nut jobs that just can't deal with life. Those that are prescribed permanent pills, dope and therapy to help them with their sad feelings or chronic something-something -ism. "Sorry boss. I'm always late for work and didn't get that done 'cause I got _ _ _ _ (Insert 4 random letters)"

Statistically, looking at different age groups, there are fewer criminals in their 60's than there are criminals in their 20's. Why is that? Some finally decided another stint in prison wasn't worth it. Some found meaning outside themselves. Others just grew out of the anger or the crazy. (Like why I no longer think how fun it would be to throw bullets into a fire to see what happens.)

No matter the age, the only real cure for these people is the carrot or the stick. A slap on the wrist or a cookie. Work and family or crime and punishment.

Here's a thought experiment. I decide to get my paranoia and jerkism cured. To cover my bases I begin treatment with 5 different therapists. So each day of the week I meet with a different government credentialed psycho. What are the odds that all five will diagnose the same problem and recommend the same treatment? (Possibility? One in a zillion. Probability? Zilch in a Zillion.)

But let's acknowledge that psychoanalysis and therapy really does seem to work sometimes.

Maybe like a placebo sometimes works.

If you are cured after years of psychoanalysis - was it the therapy or the years?

And the reason some of the people that get cured are cured quickly, others in months and some others needing it for the rest of their lives is because everyone is different. Everyone has a different brain chemistry based on what they ingested or didn't ingest. Everyone has had a different bad experience. Every psycho has a different education and a different treatment bias.

So really finding the right psycho for each psycho is just a crap shoot.

In the remotest chance that psycho treatment works, how do we make sure everyone gets the bestest most goodest treatment rather than rolling the dice with the first psycho found in the yellow pages or one appointed by a judge.

So let's give it to Artificial Intelligence. All of the psycho journals, session notes, psychological tests, and psych experiments. Every word, audio, video or result of all that exists in the world about psychology, psychiatry and psychoanalysis - including their successes in curing people. Put it into a database

Having all the psycho knowledge in existence, A.I. will ask better questions and draw out better information than any one psycho. Information that is specific to each person.

And then let's program the A.I so it can emotionally adapt to an individual. It will be stern, fatherly, cold, analytical, supportive or sympathetic depending on how the patient wants to be treated. (I want my holographic psycho avatar to look like Marilyn Monroe.)

(Doctor Alexa) "You're absolutely right Karen. Everyone that disagrees with you really is a Nazi. Let's explore optional ways to deal with that so you don't get slapped upside the head." (Doctor Alexa) "Bummer about your conviction for 1st degree ____ (fill in the blank) Ernie. How about we continue this conversation at the Bugscuffle Institute for the Criminally Stupid where we will have plenty of time to talk about your complicated relationship with power tools."

Is there even a scintilla of a doubt that it would do a better job of providing individual treatment than today's typical psychologist?

Not to mention do better than Psycho Bob, my personal psychologist? (Graduated 67th in a class of 72 from the Bugscuffle, Tennessee Institute of Psychosomatics and Applied Puppetry.)

But still. Is it a cure? Or is it just providing little mental training wheels for life's journey? A little cookie for being so special.

So… my answer for those continuously operating outside society's norms and harming others is to accept the consequences, find meaning outside yourself or just mature through it.

Stick, carrot, time. Any two will work.

Although I could be wrong. Psycho Bob did correctly diagnosis that me being an angry narcissistic jerk had nothing to do with bed wetting.

Me and Bob are still working on my paranoia.

[tombeane-blog]

My Eggucation

3/15/2025 "When I wake up first thing I do …Eggs Is to look around for something to chew …Eggs-actly Feeding myself is very, very tricky Because you see, I'm ridiculously picky …Eggs" The Roches - "Eggs"

Eggs have been in the news a lot lately. Price Price Price.

My opinion: The price will come down when we drill baby drill and they stop killing millions of chickens because of the bird flu (54 million in the last three months.)

So let's talk about eggs - but not about egg prices.

If you are squeemish, stop reading now. (Warning: Contains disturbing images) Delete this email and go about your busy day - blissfully unaware. But if you ever want to eat generic store bought eggs again without feeling guilty - in the name of all that is good and holy - stop reading now!

Or at least close your eyes.

I'm not talking about organic either. I'm not even sure what that means.

Besides… GMO? - Is that a bad thing? Non-GMO so the chickens don't eat feed that is grown from genetically modified corn that resists bugs and increases yields?

I don't know….I'm torn about the whole thing.

We've all got a choice these days. Regular old generic eggs, cage free, free range, pasture raised, mobile pasture raised?

I hear bad stories about the poor generic factory chickens. So do I buy cage free and walk out of the store feeling all virtuosal about myself?

Maybe they taste the same but I'd be making a statement.

Because here is what a typical chicken farm using caged chickens looks like.

Every chicken lives it's entire life in a cage that gives it 1 square foot of space. Not even enough to spread it's wings.

After seeing this, I feel so guilty about those poor chickens I'm almost ready to quit eating eggs for the rest of my life.

That's it. From now on cage free only. I'm making a sign (Make Chickens Free Again!!) and marching in support of cage free/free range chickens. And I'll be singing… "Born free As free as the wind blows As free as the grass grows Born free to follow your heart" Matt Monro - "Born Free?

I may pay more but I'm giving my chickens a better life.

I'll buy my cage free eggs and proudly walk out of the grocery store looking down my nose at the cruel world and all the horrible people in it. And I'll be thinking, "Look at me Ma, I'm a good person. I care about chickens. Only cage free for me from now on."

But then I started looking a little closer…. ...and found what a typical chicken farm looks like that advertises it's eggs as cage free.

Whoops. Still only 1 square foot per chicken but they can at least jump up and down. And if they are free range at least some have an area they can use to get a little sunshine - but it probably won't have grass. Like maybe a fenced in concrete porch.

Not a lot better. Now I'm feeling even more down and I'm afraid I may have to just eat grits, bacon and pecan pie for the rest of my life.

Then I crossed my fingers and kept researching - hoping beyond hope I could find something better. And I found eggs from pasture raised chickens and it looked like...

Now we're talking. Minimum 108 square feet per chicken. Wind, rain, sunshine and a stomach full of bugs, snails, slugs and other disgusting things.

And anytime the little plumpsters want they can jump up and fly 6 feet in any direction.

And then the sky parted and the sun came out. I felt there was new hope for a fowl future I could help create.

And so I made my way to Costco. There I found Pasture Raised Eggs for $4.65 a dozen! (I lied. It's a little bit about price.)

So after my morning breakfast of toast and jelly, grits, three pasture raised eggs over easy and 4 slices of bacon…Full Belly. Informed. Proud. Healthy. Virtuous… …I enjoyed my first cigar of the day.

[tombeane-blog]

The Golden Age Of Rock

"It's been a long time since I rock and rolled It's been a long time since I did the stroll Ooh, let me get it back, let me get it back, let me get it back Baby, where I come from" Led Zeppelin - Rock and Roll

Argue if you want but the greatest era of Rock since the before times was the period from 1965 to 1975. No other era comes close.

It was the Golden Age of Rock 'n Roll.

"If it please the court, I present State's Exhibit #1." The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, The Byrds, The Beach Boys, The Monkees, The Doors, Aretha Franklin, Otis Redding, Simon & Garfunkel, Elvis Presley, Credence Clearwater Revival, Three Dog Night, Rod Stewart, Roberta Flack, Sam Cooke, Don McLean, Harry Nilsson, Marvin Gaye, Paul McCartney, Stevie Wonder, Elton John, Gladys Knight, Glen Campbell, John Denver, Crosby Stills & Nash, Emerson Lake & Palmer, Loggins & Messina, Led Zeppelin, Booker T. & the M.G.'s, Quicksilver Messenger Service, The Who, Dire Straits, Janice Joplin, The Allman Brothers, Black Sabbath, The Eagles, Fleetwood Mac, Grateful Dead, Jimi Hendrix, Iron Butterfly, Kansas, Kiss, Lynrd Skynrd, Pink Floyd, Queen, Carlos Santana, Bob Seger, Bruce Springsteen, Steely Dan, Steppenwolf, ZZ Top, Deep Purple, Doobie Brothers, AC/DC, Sly & The Family Stone, Mark Knoplfer, The Yardbirds, Cream, Donavan, Buffalo Springfield, Jefferson Airplane, The Kinks, The Moody Blues, Procol Harum, Traffic, Jethro Tull, Joe Cocker, David Bowie, Tommy James & The Shondells, The James Gang, Carol King, J.J. Cale, Frank Zappa, Genesis, Rush, Blue Oyster Cult, Linda Ronstadt, Wilson Pickett, Sam & Dave, The Righteous Brothers, Supertramp, Arlo Guthrie, Joan Baez, Country Joe and the Fish.

"Yep your courtship. All these people gave us all those great songs in a period of just 10 years."

"Oops, forgive me your honor, I seemed to have dropped my mic."

Looking back at the sheer breadth of talent, originality, variety and creativity of the late 60's and early 70's… well, it just takes your breath away.

If you picked the top songs from each of those 84 artists and groups on that list you would have many of the songs you would want to listen to for the rest of your life.

"But what about all those great songs in the 80's and 90's Tom. You left those out." "Vern, I'll admit that there were very many good songs in that time and I'll also acknowledge that there was a lot of variety and artistry, but, most of it was an echo of that supercalifragilisticexpialidocious 10 year span rather than something really new. It was like the sequel of a great musical movie made during the Golden Age. And in many cases it was artists and groups from the above list expanding their individual discographies."

"Pick any 5, 10 or 15 year era and tell me it was as good as, let alone better than, what those Rock gods did from 1965 to 1975." (I'll pause and quietly guffaw, giggle and titter into my hand while you huff and harrumph your way deeper into your losing argument.)

"OK Vern. Now that you are no longer trying to verbilate your weak response we can continue. Here, join me in the way back machine."

In the early 60's Rock 'n Roll drifted away from the Blues/Country roots that had fueled it in the 50's. And the music sank into the sugary doldrums with hits like, "It's My Party And I'll Cry If I Want to". (slight gag)

In my humble but experational opinion, it was on the 29th of November, 1963 that the fuse was lit on a musical revolution. And the song that started it? The Beatles bitch slapping the stagnating world of Rock with, "I Want To Hold Your Hand".

It was an ears-wide-open moment.

With one song, gusto, exuberance and thrill was re-injected into Rock which then went on it to build a musical monolith using the grit and blood of it's Blues/Country roots. (Maybe the best example of this is Led Zeppelin's defining song from 1969 which was obscene, brutish and utterly awesome. It was "Whole Lotta Love" - which they literally stole whole cloth from "You Need Love", a 1962 Muddy Waters song written by the great blues artist Willie Dixon.)

But The Beatles and other artists couldn't do it all alone. Another equally important component was needed.

In the late 50's early 60's all the blues and rock artists began to really and truly discover the Fender guitar. At the same time there were rapid advances in electronically enhanced acoustics. Digital technology supercharged the guitar with Distortion, Wah Wah, Overdrive, Sustain, Fuzz, Tone Bending, Tremolo, Phaser, Overdrive. The guitar sounds became warmer, clearer, hotter, dirtier, smoother, sexier and louder.

Seemingly overnight, the guitar became the most versatile and emotional instrument in the history of music. It could scream, cry, growl, moan, groan, soothe, lift, evoke, intensify, innovate, express and immerse. It could push any song to a whole nuther level entirely

Every other musical instrument was relegated to a supporting role.

And this opened the floodgates of creativity at exactly the time that Rock was desperate to be saved.

In 1969 the music got a bull rush of adrenalin called Woodstock - and the whole world was captivated.

The music became more creative, more experimental, more technical, more daring and more culturally connected.

And it was no longer just for dancing. If you wanted, you could close your eyes and let the music float your mind along on a winding journey of emotions, images and even hallucinations.

With eyes closed, music now had color.

The rest is history………

"If it please the court, I'd like to present State's Exhibit #2. "It shows the frequency of key changes in music's top hits from 1961 to 2021." "Looking at the chart, I feel sympathy and sorrow for anyone listening to mainstream music since 2007."

"The State rests."

"Sorry your Lordness, I seemed to have dropped my mic again."

"What do we want?" "KEY CHANGES!" "When do we want them?" "YESTERDAY!"

[tombeane-blog]

America Desperately Needs Digital Narcan

"I want a new drug, One that won't spill, One that don't cost too much, Or come in a pill." Huey Lewis - I Want A New Drug

And then I found one.

All my life I told myself I didn't have an addictive personality.

Oh sure, there were times in my life when I did a few things to a slight excess. Like from age 10 to 50ish I smoked anything that would burn - from dried leaves rolled in newspapers to cigarettes to cigars to pipes. I know for a fact I wasn't addicted. I proved it to myself by quiting hundreds of times.

I will also admit that during a chunk of my formative years I drank more than my share. (plus his share and her share and maybe even some of yours).

But no problem. All that drinking was just me going through a phase. I know it was just a phase because after only a handful of decades I grew right out of it.

So imagine my shock when I recently got sucked down the black hole of an irresistible addiction. All within minutes of trying it the first time.

"Whoa! 'nuff said Beane. Did you finally take that psychedelic trip aboard the Maryjane train? Doin' the Doobie? Reefer Madness? That it?" "No Vern. Nothing like that." "No need be ashamed pal. Nothing wrong with it. Everybody is doing it these days…. especially now that it's more legal than aspirin." "But if it's not the skunk weed… hmmm, let me guess. Is it Coke? Crack? Dope? Blow? Stardust? Nose Candy? Ice?… Did you start riding the white horse?"

"Listen Vern. None of that." "I admit I did see some early warning signs. I bought a Playstation 3 and a couple of games when I retired in 2006." "Ever since I've been a less-than-competent, some say, crappy gamer. Once or twice a year a new game. I will buy one and play a lot over a few weeks. Then I won't play at all for a month or two or three. So I guess I am intermittently hooked - but nowhere near addicted." "But, I should have realized that some hidden hunger was lurking there in the dark and ugly corners of my psyche."

"No Vern, this was something far, far more addictive than anything I've ever encountered."

"And it's not just me. Every day this sadistical Devil's spawn of a temptation creates new addicts faster than a lifelong vegetarian tasting bacon for the first time."

Everyone is exposed because everyone is already addicted to the gateway drugs -smart phones and smart phone games. That's strike one and two right there.

For me the third strike were the apps Royal Kingdom, Royal Match and Piggy Kingdom. Cute cartoon'y game stuff. What could go wrong? Heck, I've got a few minutes to spare each day.

Look, I was convinced I was immune to addiction.

OK, like every English speaking person on the planet, I play Wordle once a day. Makes me feel like a genius.

But that's it. Once for 10 minutes and then I go about my day.

But then few days ago I was a little bored after playing Wordle for the umpteenth time and I thought I needed to try something new.

I remember seeing ads for those three apps pop up on my smart phone 2, maybe 3 hundred times a day so I decided to try one.

I loaded up Royal Kingdom. It was easy and fun. I was immediately hooked and played for a couple of hours. Then it started to get more difficult and I started losing my in-game 'lives'.

When I used up my 'lives' I was given a choice to buy more with real money or wait for an hour or two before another free 'life' would be provided. I was tempted but I'm also cheap so I put my phone down and waited. When I restarted - lo and behold I quickly lost my new 'life'.

I started to realize this was like going out for a steak dinner and in the middle of a good T-bone you are told to pay an additional $2.99 to keep eating or leave the restaurant and return in one hour to finish it. Extremely not good.

After a few hours struggling and being frustrated, I uninstalled Royal Kingdom and installed Royal Match to get a fresh start.

Hours later and running into the same problem all over again. I uninstalled Royal Match and installed Piggy Kingdom.

My need for dopamine hits was growing more difficult to ignore.

I deduced pretty quickly that Piggy Kingdom was geared more for a younger audience. But I didn't care because I could just play and play without running out of 'lives'.

At about the level 50 mark I realized I was hopelessly helpless and had no control over my desire for a constant dopamine rush.

At level 150, I kept telling myself I was going to stop after the next round. But then I didn't. Another round. And then I didn't stop again. And again.

This kept going, and going, and going. I was completely unable to exercise even the tiniest bit of willpower. Swipe up, tap, double tap, swipe down, tap. Watch the patterns and colors swirl across the screen.

I would end one round and reflexively hit 'continue' before the logical portion of my brain could get a word in edgewise. That word being - Stop! Get Up! Do Something!

It was like that lab experiment where a rat is trained to push a button to get a tiny hit of cocaine - and just keeps pushing the button over and over. After a while, the researchers stopped the cocaine reward but the rat continued to push the button just to get the dopamine hit caused by anticipation of the cocaine. Not eating. Not nothing. Living only to push that button.

Like the rats, the constant dopamine rush just wouldn't let go of me.

Over a two day period, I pushed that button for at least 6 or 8 hours. I don't know for sure 'cause I just lost count of the time.

This morning I got up and forced myself to go cold turkey. I uninstalled all three apps.

I swore to myself I would never reinstall them!

So… if you let curiosity get the best of you and you want to see for yourself. - you know - just to try it to see what Beane was talking about.

You will get addicted. But remember. There is hope. I kicked the habit and so can you.

I'm here to help. Just reach out.

(I heard about some game called 'Angry Birds'. Sounds safe enough. Maybe I'll try that.)

[tombeane-blog]

Rave On, It's A Crazy Feeling

February 3rd, 2025 "And when the music plays, And when the words are touched with sorrow, When the music plays, I hear the sound I had to follow, Once upon a time…." The Moody Blues - In Your Wildest Dreams

From 1958 to 1960 Dick Clark's Saturday Night Beechnut T.V. show was broadcast weekly on ABC. 30 minutes of live performances of the top 10 songs of the week. On July 19, 1958 the show aired live from the Miami Beach Auditorium. The performers and songs on that show were: Duane Eddy - Rebel Rouser and Ramrod Jack Scott - My True Love Bobby Darin - Early In The Morning and Splish Splash George Hamilton IV - I know Where I'm Going The De John Sisters - Straighten Up And Fly Right

That Saturday afternoon, I'm sitting in a piece of crap car in a gas station 36 miles south in Homestead, Florida. We empty our jean's pockets and pool together a dollar, a quarter, a nickel or whatever we have in order to buy enough gas to get to Miami Beach - hoping there will be enough to get us back home.

I'm 15 years old. I'm in a car with 4 other testosterone fueled teens racing against life's wind.

Howling at the moon through the open windows, we hit the road. The rushing wind is so loud we have to crank the radio up to eleven.

The car fills with the rhythmic energy of a single bongo as a Bobby Freeman song fills the car.

Well, do ya wanna dance and-a hold my hand, Tell me I'm your lover man, Oh baby, do ya wanna dance….

As the song ends, I'm thinking, "That may be the greatest song ever!". Then proving me wrong, the radio's in between static is blasted clean out of the windows by Buddy Holly and the Crickets.

A-weh-uh-heh-uh-ell, The little things you say and do, Make me want to be with you-ah-hoo, A-Rave on, it's a crazy feeling and-a, I know it's got me reeling, When you say, I love you-hoo, rave on….

I light a Marlboro and lean back, arm out the rear window. Johnny Cool Breeze. "Tooling down the highway doing 79, I'm a twin pipe papa and I'm feelin' fine". "Lock up your daughters Miami!"

The telephone poles look like a picket fence as we fly past cars and continue flying north to meet rock 'n roll royalty in Miami Beach….

[Jack Scott in black jeans and a black leather jacket. Followed by Bobby Darin sitting in a bath tub belting, "Splish Splash I was takin' a bath…"]

"Top Of The World, Ma!"

Not long after we attended that show, my Air Force dad was transferred to Randolph AFB, Texas and I started my sophomore year at a local high school just outside of San Antonio.

7 months later. February 3, 1959: My 16th Birthday. THE day. Sweet Sixteen. Cars. Danger. Freedom. Pretty soon I'll have my drivers's license. Borrow my dad's Studebaker Silver Hawk. Pick up my girlfriend on a Saturday night. Roll down the driver's side window. Crank up the radio. Rev the engine a few times. Slam her into Drive and push the accelerator to the floor. Drive with my left hand 'cause my right arm would be casually draped James Dean Style across my girl friend's seat back. Next stop heaven.

(also known as the Starlight Drive-In.)

Schertz-Cibolo High School had an old weatherbeaten building and inside was a small funky room used as the Student Lounge. Worn out sofas and threadbare chairs competed for floor space with a well used juke box. The Student Lounge opened about an hour before Home Room and we would usually come early and hang out. Whenever there was enough floor space, we would dance.

That Tuesday morning I punch a couple of buttons and select my favorite Larry William's song. The arm firmly grabs a 45 rpm and twirls it around and onto the turntable. I feel the anticipation build as the juke box's needle-on-vinyl-hiss introduces the song. I look around for someone to dance with.

I used to walk ya' home, baby, after school, Carry your books home, too, But now you got a boyfriend right down the street, Baby, what you tryin' to do? You better slow down….

I don't remember who I was dancing with when one of my buddies runs into the room, rushes over and taps me on the shoulder.

"HEY! BEANE! DID YOU HEAR?" "Hear what?" "BUDDY HOLLY JUST DIED IN A PLANE CRASH!"

The music keeps going but the dancing stops as the shock spreads around the room.

My memory isn't what it used to be but if I close my eyes I can still picture myself - in that room - in that moment.

Anguished girl's tears weren't uncommon that morning. Me and some buddies gathered in the gravel parking lot between classes, chain smoked and tried to make sense of it all.

Recently I was in the gym and listening to the greatest hits of Buddy Holly on Spotify. The rest of the morning I couldn't shake off the nostalgia….

Buddy and Elvis and Chuck and Jerry Lee and Fats infected America's youth like a rampaging virus.

But just as the fever peaked, our world and the music changed.

Our music went from Wake Up, Little Suzy, Good Golly Miss Molly and Johnny B. Goode - to - Blowin' In The Wind, Masters Of War and Eve Of Destruction… …all in less than 7 years.

We felt a little like reluctant time travelers swept into a future we didn't want.

Twelve years later, in the middle of the Vietnam War, Don Mclean was driven to write a song to pay homage to Buddy Holly and the music, and how the world had changed since that day.

I recently read that, "'American Pie’ spins a nine-minute story that juxtaposes feelings of teenage enthusiasm and invincibility with tragedy; interrupting a world defined by youthful pleasures and drama—homecoming, football, partying with friends - with the sober knowledge of time passing, Cold War-era paranoia, and coming to terms with one’s own mortality."

We were singin', bye-bye, Miss American Pie Drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry Them good ol' boys were drinkin' whiskey and rye And singin', "This'll be the day that I die This'll be the day that I die

That sounds like a lot of history and meaning to cram into one song about one era of music.

Even so, it leaves out what many of us felt - angst, innocence, rebelling, excitement, belonging, young love, alienation, yearning, idolatry, triumph, and, the sheer joy of being captured emotionally and physically by the rhythm, harmony and stories in that music.

For 2 minutes and 30 seconds the world ceased to exist outside of a 5 foot bubble containing only you, your partner and the music.

I can't remember if I cried, When I read about his widowed bride, But something touched me deep inside, The day the music died….

The Cricket's small rented plane couldn't carry all the members of the band so Ritchie Valens and Tommy Allsup flipped a coin for a seat on the plane.

Ritchie won.

Waylon Jennings gave up his seat to "The Big Bopper", who had the flu.

Buddy Holly, Ritchie Valens and "The Big Bopper" J. P. Richardson - along with their talent - died February 3rd sixty seven years ago on a cold, foggy, winter night in a lonely, frozen field near Clear Lake, Iowa.

I'm not sure what I miss most - him - them - the music - or just what was.

[tombeane-blog]

Limits! We Don't Need No Stinkin' Limits!

(12/24/24) If you get too cold, I'll tax the heat, If you take a walk, I'll tax your feet." The Beatles - Taxman

There's gonna' be a political struggle in the next few months over the debt ceiling. Trump's gonna' want to lift it so we won't limit our ability to borrow as he and the DOGE DUO try to rein in a runaway federal bureaucracy. Schumer is gonna' use it as as bargaining chip to get whatever stuff it is he wants.

So who came up with this Debt Ceiling idea? To understand it, we need to take a quick look at the widespread destruction and economic sinkhole we had after the Civil War. "So Vern, let's mix some metaphors and ride the way-back machine until we jump - off-time - landing crotch deep in America on July 28, 1868." "SNZZZZZZZ, grmpf, snfff, ZZZZZ." "Wake up Vern! Listen up 'cause I ain't gonna' re-explain this."

Because of the mess after the Civil War, the 14th Amendment was ratified to shape the financial landscape of the Reconstruction era - stabilizing finances and forcing economic restructuring.

It was directed towards the defeated South and stated in section 4:

It was directed towards the defeated South and stated in section 4: "The validity of the public debt of the United States, authorized by law, including debts incurred for payment of pensions and bounties for services in suppressing insurrection or rebellion(kicking ass), shall not be questioned." It meant that the Union's creditworthiness was sacrosanct and it could just give out as many I.O.U.'s as it wanted. Or, paraphranticly, "You will trust us to pay you back or else".

Time passes and in 1917 Congress decided we needed to the control our borrowing - hence the debt ceiling was born. When the ceiling is reached during the fiscal year, the government can't spend any additional money. Spoiler Alert! It has been raised or suspended numerous times since 1917.

Fast forward to nowadays. The current debt ceiling was suspended in June 2023 through January 1, 2025. Whoa! Wait! It was suspended by the current Congress and signed by the current administration? YepYep. And in the 18 months since, the national debt has grown by an additional $4.7 Trillion - ballooning to today's $36.2 Trillion.

And they called this - The Fiscal Responsibility Act of 2023? (Pause for loud laughing WTF's or loud screaming WTF's - depending on your personal pronoun.)

Trump 2.0 wants the debt ceiling to stay suspended for a while longer. Schumer wants leverage. "And that Vern, is what Trump and Schumer will be fighting about." "Yeah. OK Tom. Less boring is still boring."

"Look Vern, what amps up the interest here that is Section 4 of the 14th Amendment was never repealed and it has never been tested."

So legal scholars differ as to whether the "debt ceiling" is, or is not, legal under the U.S. Constitution.

If Trump ignores it, the matter can only be resolved by the Supreme Court.

"Here's my point Vern." "Vern?…… Dammit Vern. Wake Up!" "(zzzzzzz,sniff) Heard every word you said Tom. What's your point?"

"I think we both agree that having a giant speed bump in the way of unrestrained government spending is a good thing - however - having a cat fight between Trump and Schumer - refereed by the Supremes is not what the country needs right now when there is so much that begs to be fixed."

NOTE TO CONGRESS: "Really? Up until January 1, 2025 having no ceiling on government debt is called Fiscal Responsibility but starting January 2nd spending at the same rate becomes fiscally irresponsible?" "Just how dumb do you think I am?"

"Put your hand down Vern. It's a rhetorical question."

Who's driving this thing?

[tombeane-blog]

Deportation Rubiks Cube Solved!

Recently my friends Elon and Vivek asked for ideas on reducing government regulations and eliminating government waste.

I sent in hundreds of great ideas such as: "Stop it with the shrimp on treadmills already" and, "Maybe we should eliminate the $516 billion we spent on federal programs that expired decades ago (If they are still necessary, vote them back in)" and, "How about that Department of Agriculture 'cutting-edge' research that walked 16 dogs of two different colors on a hot summer day and took their rectal temperatures to see if one color dog got hotter than the other". Spoiler Alert: Researchers found that the Labradors' fur color did not affect their body temperatures. But still, this is good info for those of you who may have seen a Labrador walking down the street with a thermometer sticking out of it's butt. Now you know why.

But on to the point of this.

I recently couldn't sleep so I turned my attention to one of the biggest problems facing the new administration - i.e., how to deport illegals when so many cities and states and hard core illegal safe zones are on record to not cooperate with Sheriff Homan.

We already know we have a big multi-year project ahead of us and many millions of illegals to deal with - so Tommy H. has already stated he will prioritize terrorists, drug mules, child traffickers, robbers, muggers, pedophiles, and murderers to be first to go.

So he's gonna slam the border shut and start hunting down these pieces of dog doo. To be realistic, just getting rid of these crapaholes will take a while. Because of that, we don't need to start where the sanctuarialists don't want us.

So we tell all the those cities, states, counties and progressive enclaves - don't worry, we won't be bothering you and your illegals. They are safe, safer and safeist.

Instead, we focus on cities, states and counties that want us to help. Texas, Florida, Tennessee, etc. We go all medieval on them. We arrest, we jail and then we deport them with malice. We put them in temporary holding locations for as long as it takes until we get them out of the country. We don't give them a court date with a promise to show up. Pretty soon those that haven't been caught start running and hiding.

We stay away from all those sanctuary places. We won't disturb them. They can continue to spend millions and billions to feed, clothe, educate, provide health care and provide monthly debit cards. Giving them everything except prison sentences. Shoot, maybe they can even guarantee all non-citizens front-of-the-line privileges for all government services.

All the while, in a bunch of red states, we keep herding and catching and deporting the aforementioned terrorists, drug mules, child traffickers, robbers, muggers, pedophiles, and murderers. Then we turn to those already turned down for green cards and who have already been ordered to be deported. Finally, down the road a ways, we triage the rest - we make gone the chronically unemployed unmarried, childless young males.

As we progress, I wouldn't be at all surprised if a lot of these pieces of human trash catches on to what is happening and jump on the nearest bus, plane, train or Uber and flee to Portland, San Francisco, L.A., Boston, Chicago and Seattle.

So… if the elite progressives feel all moral now - think how special and virtuous they are going to feel when their illegal population of terrorists, drug mules, child traffickers, robbers, muggers, pedophiles, murderers and general human piles of crap doubles or triples.

We get what we want and they get what they want.

In a few years Trump can start calling those mayors and governors to ask, "How's it going? You still good?"

(Meanwhile, California begins construction on their $153 billion wall to keep the Feds out)

[tombeane-blog]

Just Kill It! No Bob, Not That One. That Other One.

"They took all the trees, put 'em in a tree museum, And they charged the people a dollar and a half just to see 'em." Joni Mitchell - "Big Yellow Taxi"

Decades ago a proxy war was fought in the Pacific Northwest pitting the economic interests of American industry against the ideological interests of environmentalists.

The Spotted Owl versus the Timber Industry.

Spoiler Alert! The Timber Industry lost.

Go ahead - giggle. Laugh. Hoot and holler just like the Republicans did on November 6th.

Laugh because you think nature was saved from those Mother-Nature-Murdering Mo#$%f@&r's.

Laugh. But you've been paying more for every single thing relying on wood ever since. Houses, biofuels, baseball bats, pencils, Nerf guns and, yes, even those little packets the peanuts come in.

But Nature is complex. And Nature is a zero sum environment. The Spotted Owl had a good run. 99.9% of all species that have ever existed are now extinct.

And extinct not just because of that comet that cannon-balled into the Gulf of Mexico 66 million years ago.

No, every day one species kills the other and the other species kills the other other.

Fast forward to now. The Barred Owl, native to the East Coast, has spread across the U.S. to the Pacific Northwest. And it is driving the Spotted Owl out of it's native habitat and pushing it towards extinction. (Mother Nature you scamp!)

Barred Owls are legally protected by the Migratory Bird Treaty Pact. It is illegal to kill them. I can't kill one and neither can you Vern.

So here's the U.S. Fish And Wildlife Service's plan to save the Spotted Owl from the Barred Owl.

They will obtain a special permit from themselves to implement the Barred Owl Lethal Removal Strategy. (lethal removal kinda sorta means blowing their teeny brains out)

U.S.F.W.S plans to kill 15,000 barred owls per year. That number carefully derived by using vintage Radio Shack EC-4027 Scientific Calculators skillfully operated by a team of randomly selected Asian middle school math geniuses to calculate the acceptable number of lethal send-offs.

The Process: Certified hunters will go into the forests at night and use Barred Owl call sounds and then shotgun them out of the trees, quickly burying the little birdie bodies.

Not to worry. The shooters will be trained professionals and the birds will be shot with non-lead shotgun ammunition.

This sad but necessary plan is because Mother Nature failed miserably to balance competing species population levels to the environmentalist's satisfaction.

Killing one species to save another is a regrettable necessity. (So the experts tell us after conferring with Dr. Fauci)

Since there is no predictable point at which the process can be considered complete, they must kill 15,000 Barred Owls per year - ad infinitum.

Our experts will be micro-managing another of Mother Nature's screw-ups at a non-expiring cost each year of (place yuuge number plus inflation here).

Mic drop. Problem solved.

In related news: U.S. Congressman U.R. Shaftid from Northern California has put forward a $12 billion dollar bill to fund a 10 year government grant to research, study, ponder and pontificate on the time line to begin lethally removing Spotted Owls in order to protect the futurely threatened Barred Owls.

"What! Me worry? They're from the government. They are here to help. Wait! What's that pointing at me?"

[tombeane-blog]

Sounds All Contradicterary To Me

"One headline, why believe it?" Tears for Fears - Everybody wants to rule the world

There is a perfectly legitimate reason I have a healthy skepticism of experts, science… …and expectomucho, the media.

I ran across this earlier this year.

NBC News. March 27, 2024 (9:45 a.m.) "Melting polar ice is slowing the earth's rotation, with possible consequences for timekeeping." "A new study found that ice loss caused by climate change is redistributing mass on the Earth enough to alter it's spin."

And a mere 4 hours and 45 minutes later on that same day… For those of you who were in my Spanish 1 class at Schertz-Cibolo H.S. In 1959 (Go Buffalos!), let me translate into Tex-Mex.

"Exacto Sameo Dias" the following appeared.

CBS News. March 27, 2024, (1:45 p.m.) Earth is spinning faster than it used to. Clocks might have to skip a second to keep up. "It's a complicated situation that involves, physics, global power politics, climate change, technology and two types of time."

And there's more ad-hocian examples: Kenosha riots… "Fiery, but mostly peaceful." Could just as easily be, "No need to worry, the robbers left most of the money in the bank." Open Border… "We need to fix our broken immigration system." But that sounds like, "People will keep robbing banks until we fix our broken financial system."

But there may be hope. "Have you heard the news? The dogs are dead" Pink Floyd - Sheep

I have an extra red pill if you need one.

[tombeane-blog]

What Keeps Me Up At Night

"Barbecue, Boil, Broil, Bake, Sauté, Shrimp-kabobs, Shrimp creole, Shrimp gumbo, Pan-fried, deep-fried, stir-fried shrimp, Pineapple shrimp, Lemon shrimp, Coconut shrimp, Pepper shrimp, Shrimp soup, Shrimp stew, Shrimp salad, Shrimp and potatoes, Shrimp burger, Shrimp sandwich….. …..that's about it." Bubba Blue from "Forrest Gump"

"You look a little tired Tom. What's up?" "I'm not sleeping well these days Vern. And it's even worse at night." "So what is it? The middle east? The economy? Open borders? Rampant crime? Israel running out of terrorists to kill? Gender fluidity? The election? - what?"

"Well Vern, as you know I research exhaustitatively which means I'm always up on the latest science stuff. But, it does have it's costs."

"It all started with the shocking findings from that 2010 UK University of Portsmouth report about the anti-depressants dumped into our sewer systems that end up in the oceans thereby creating SUICIDAL shrimp." "Huh?" "Yeah, I know. And as horrible as that sounds, is there any doubt in your mind that there are some nut job governmental scientists in some deep underground black facility in Wuhan working 24x7 with their Chinese counterparts on Gain Of Function Research? (Done it before. They'll do it again.) Their goal of course is to make these anti-depressants stronger and more profitable.

"But what if instead of only making these super pills work better for humans, they also work more effectively on shrimp?" "And in doing so, they make the shrimp not just more suicidal, but end up making them HOMICIDAL?" "Cripes sake Vern. Can't you see that homicidal shrimp could become the Ocean's Apex Predators?" "I know this is gonna happen and that's why I have terrifying nightmares about… DEATH BY SHRIMP!"

"Ok (mmmmph, mmmmph, smack). Sorry Tom, my mouth was full. Let me put this as respectfully as I can…… "W.T.literal.F?"?"

"Oh sure, laugh like it's just another of my fobeas. How much harm can a homicidal shrimp do you say? But listen up Vern. What if it's many, many shrimp, all drugged out of their teeny minds?" "Imagine if you are out enjoying a day at the beach - and after asking your buddy to hold your beer you swim out too far and all of a sudden you find yourself surrounded by not one or two mentally unbalanced crustaceans - but - a billion bug-eyed, homicidal shrimp. Some maybe even Jumbo Shrimp like at Red Lobster! (Tables would be turned then. Who's eating who now Vern?)" Before you know it, you begin to feel the soft strokes of hundreds of billions of tiny wriggling shrimp feet on every part of your body. It will be like water dripping on a rock - except it wouldn't take thousands of years. No. Horror upon horrors, it happens in minutes. Starts off you can't even feel it. And then it feels kinda' nice and maybe just tickles a little. But soon it starts being annoying - then irritating - then painful - then excruciating - then you die screaming in an unbearable agony of itsy-bitsy caresses." "What can you do? Punch them? Gouge out their cute little buggy shrimp eyes? Won't work Vern. There would be billions of 'em!"

"Just thinking about the underwater accoustinating sound of all those fatal feathery feet as they canoodle you into oblivion… …well Vern, it just scares the bejeezus out of me, and I wake up sweating and screaming,"

"You're right Tom. All of a sudden it sounds not quite so funny anymore." "Only one thing scares me more." "What in the world could be a worse way to die than that?"

"Well....."

Americans consume 22,000,000 pounds of chickens per day.

The average 5 pound chicken has approximately .3 pounds of feathers.

There are 2,979 federally inspected chicken processing plants in the United States.

Every day a truck leaves each processing plant with 2,215 pounds of unwanted chicken feathers.

(For you math majors, 22,000,000 times .3 pounds divided by 2,979 equals 2,215 pounds of feathers.)

"I'm now having nightmares where I'm crossing the freeway and a flat bed truck overturns and dumps 1 ton of filthy, bloody, poopy chicken feathers on me - slowly crushing, suffocating, and feathering me to death."

(My Worst Nightmare)

"Jeez Tom. Now I understand why you can't sleep. You have my sympathies."

"I'm gonna stop you right there Vern…. Is that a chicken nugget in your hand?"

(https://gizmodo.com/antidepressants-in-the-water-are-making-shrimp-suicidal-5584563)

[tombeane-blog]

Lollipops And Pushups

"Sunshine, lollipops, and rainbows… Everything that's wonderful is sure to come your way" Leslie Gore - Sunshine, Lollipops and Rainbows

As the story goes, a grade school teacher set up a mock election for class president. She selected a 10 year old boy and a 10 year old girl as candidates to run against each other. The boy stood in front of the class and described in great detail all the things he would do to make school better for each of his classmates if he were to be elected. The girl promised everyone in the class free ice cream if they elected her. She won the election in a landslide. And that ladies and gentlemen is the choice we've been given for every election for dog catcher, mayor, governor, senator and president as far back as I can remember. Follow the money. Give more - or let working people keep more. One constrains liberty, the other enhances liberty. Personally, all I want from the federal government are Constitutional guarantees, protection from external threats and good freeways. (U.S. Constitution, Tenth Amendment: The powers not delegated to the United States by the Constitution, nor prohibited by it to the states, are reserved to the states respectively, or to the people.)

=============================================

Yesterday I was trying to catch up on my correspondence and way, way down in the bottom of my mailbag I found this months-old email from Vern.

To: Tom From: Vern Subject: Finally Getting Healthy Tom, I'm thinking of starting to work out at the gym because I need to get into much better physical condition. Obviously I'm using you as my role model. I am in terrible shape now and I am hoping you can provide me with the incentive I need to reach my goal. Could you give me before and after photos that demonstrate your remarkable journey from a normal, ordinary, loser couch potato into the Adonis you are today? Thanks in advance, Vern From: Tom To: Vern Subject: RE:Finally Getting Healthy Vern, Turns out I don't have any pictures on my computer but since everything eventually ends up somewhere in 'The Cloud', I asked the Google A.I. to find a picture of me from before my intense training and another more recent one for comparison. I think this one was about three years ago in the middle of the Covid Panscamic.

And this one was a couple of weeks ago just after my morning workout.

Hope this helps Vern. Good Luck. Tom

[tombeane-blog]

The Smoking Lamp Is Lit

"So we bought a pack of cigarettes and Mrs. Wagner pies, And we walked off to look for America" Simon & Garfunkel - America

I was in Safeway the other morning and a guy in front of me was buying a pack of cigarettes. It cost $12.

Which got me thinking.

Dying from a lifetime of smoking is now financially out of reach.

And it dawned on me… The poorest and most vulnerable among us can no longer afford to die from smoking!

Only the rich can still die from lung cancer. (lucky bastards!)

"Yeah Vern, whatcha got?" "Jeez, that's sounds ominous Tom. How much DOES it cost?" "Vern, If you have to ask, you can't afford to die that way. So sit back, fire up that last Marlboro and listen while I pontificate."

Unless we get in front of this looming national tragedy the poor will only be able to die from smoking if we initiate massive government cigarette subsidies.

After all, if health care should be free, why not the cost to need health care? Two sides of the same coin. It only makes sense.

But, I'm afraid those heartless bums in Washington don't have the platypus eggs to get this sorted out.

So my advice to the poor and middle class is to sit down in a room with your physician and your financial advisor (new career path -Finician?).

Your LBTQ+3x*4y Finician will help you determine a cost effective way to die based on your life style choices and your projected economic status.

I know we all pine to smoke cheaply for 70 years and then kick off like John Wayne. But what used to be a sensible dying path is now out of reach for most.

Like many others, I smoked a pack and a half for many years.

You could buy a pack of smokes out of a vending machine located in every store, movie theater and strip club in America for a measly quarter .

So my habit was about 37 cents a day. (Probably less since I could get whole carton for $1 when I was in the Navy.)

My Anthropic/Chat/GPT/A.I. assistant calculated that the average age of dying from lung cancer is 70.

So let's do the cost-of-death-math for a typical smoker who began puffing at the age of 16 and ascended to that Golden Cloud at 70 screaming in agony.

70-16=54 years. 54*365*37 cents=$7,292.70

The average smoker could die from lung cancer for only $11.25 a month. Very very cost effective.

But what if a 16 year old started smoking today. 70-16. Still 54. But… 54*365*18 dollars equals a whopping $354,780! What the blazing blue bells of Hell is that?

My solution: Since the government ain't gonna' help, they should start teaching teens in high school about the relative costs of various ways of dying. (Give good info to the youngsters and I'm sure they'll reach the right conclusions. It worked for sex and abortions and drugs so it should work just as well here.)

Tell 'em: Elon Musk and Jeff Bezos can afford to die this way. You can't. Don't smoke. Not cost effective. Instead, when you reach 70 buy yourself a $99,000 Cartier watch and a 2024 $255,000 McLaren GTS. (626 Horsepower. 0-60 in 3.1 seconds.) Drive it around a year or two. Have fun. You saved for it and you deserve it. Head to U.S. 101 in California. Crank it up to 203 mph. Fly gloriously off a cliff - Thelma and Louise style.

You will still have $780 to leave to your ungrateful heirs. The future cost of a pack of Marlboro's.

Make Speech Free Again

[tombeane-blog]

We're Talking (CENSORED) Here

(If you are insulted by scatological references, delete this.) (YOU'VE BEEN WARNED LADIES!!)

"Tom, you are full of you know what." "Whoa Vern. Is that because I'm going to start talking about you know what?" "No, that's not the reason you are full of you know what Tom. But it is one of the reasons." "Maybe you should crawl back into your safe space Vern and sit this one out."

One of the things that make America great is that absolutely everything in America is constantly in flux and ever changing. It's called Freedom.

And the ever changing meaning within the American language is confusing and scary and colorful and wonderful. It's called Freedom Of Speech.

That is one of the main reasons America influences all other cultures on the planet.

Gotta' love American slang.

Yes. We're gonna talk about that word. That horrible, vulgar, universally used and universally useful word - SHIT.

I read long ago that the is the most used word in the English language. Maybe. But the F word and the word shit are close.

And no matter how many different ways the word shit is used, we always know exactly what it means in context.

The following idioms make absolutely no literal sense. But even when the phrases contradict themselves, the meaning is crystal clear. That's the shit. (Arguably the best) Shit! (After losing on another scratch off ticket) Hot shit! (She really was and I always wanted to date her) Cool shit. (Why isn't there a phrase for room temperature shit?) That's some good shit. (Here, take a hit) That's some bad shit. (Here, take a hit) I don't give a shit. (Much less two) Don't blame me when the shit hits the fan. (Musta' been some shitkicker who done it) A load of Horseshit. (Misinformation) Don't Bullshit me. (Lie) He/she (or preferred pronoun) is Chickenshit. (Coward) Up shit creek. (Paddle not provided) Shitty luck. (If you are winning) Shit out of luck. (If you are losing) A worthless piece of shit. (Some shit has value? And why is one piece of shit worse than a whole pile of shit?)

Even if shit is worthless, we are still required to occasionally retrieve all past shits. "Get your shit together!" "I need to get my shit together." Where is it? Somewhere around town? If you traveled a lot during your life it must be scattered all over the place, right? Plus, I'm 81 years old. That's a lot for me to retrieve. Physically and mechanically how in the heck do you go about finding and stealing all your shit back if they won't give it back willingly? Once your shit is in the system, does the government own it? How do you recognize shit as yours even after you locate it? How does it improve your situation if you get it all back? What are you supposed to do with it after you've stacked it all in one ginormous mountain? Who do you report to? What do you say to them? "OK Bob, I found all my shit and stacked it up in one big mound. Now what?"

Recently I overheard two guys at the gym speaking fluent Shitzu. "That's bullshit!". "No Jim. It very much is not bullshit." "No shit?" "Shit yeah! You know as well as I do shit happens." "Really? Are you shitting me?" "Why would I shit you?" "Because you're a shithead." "I wouldn't shit you. You're my favorite turd." (Using a contextually acceptable substitute) "Well….. SHIT!" "Yep. Got that right."

What a weird, worthless, useful, contradictory word.

So if you decide to pass this along, and especially if you happen to be disgusted by my language…..

…… at least don't shit all over it.

"You can come out now Vern."

[tombeane-blog]

Pretty Lies, Darn Lies And Damn Lies

"You'll wonder where the yellow went when you brush your teeth with Pepsodent" Ted Avery - (1956)Toothpaste Commercial

Did we believe that commercial? We wanted to. My mom bought the toothpaste and we just used it without questioning. Did it work? Did we sue when it didn't? (Growing up with lie after lie in TV commercials, I was so sure my electric toothbrush was lying to me that I timed the four 30 second intervals. I had to apologize to my toothbrush.)

We have always accepted all kinds of truth-stretching in commercials. Nobody really believes them but it doesn't stop us from giving the product a try just in case. All commercials lie to us but we accept that in a free society we have an individual responsibility for our own choices.

"Hanging on anyway Believing the things you say Being the fool…. LIAR!…… LIAR!" Three Dog Night - "Liar"

Everybody tells lies. I lie, you lie, they lie. We even lie to ourselves. "Here hold my beer and watch this." "I think I combed it so no one will notice the bald spot."

Even my dog Seeva lies. I say, "Hurry Up! Go Pee!" just before bedtime. If she doesn't really need to go she slow walks into the backyard and pretends to pee, staring at me over her left shoulder to see if I'm buying it. She trots in, head high, proud of herself for pulling it off.

"How do you know she's pretending Tom?" "Don't ask me that Vern. You don't want to know."

We lie when we don't need to. We lie for fun and we lie to protect ourselves. Sometimes others even demand that we tell them pretty lies.

Here's an experiment you can try: Next time you are asked how well you liked last night's Tofu Barbecued Chicken Piccata Casserole and Soy Tuna Stromboli - stand waay waay back and watch the reaction to the truth.

Politicians are the worst. Sometimes you wonder if the truth only comes out accidentally.

But there are different kinds of lies. Some lies are hyperbolic TV commercial kinds of lies.

And for those we just mumble to ourselves, "yeah… right".

"Your life will be wonderful if you buy our car insurance!" "This is the hugest crowd in the history of the world!"

Sometimes we even giggle and share in the fun.

"My hands are bigger than my opponents hands." (wink, wink, nudge, nudge)

Then there are the dangerous lies.

"If you disagree you are a racist/misogynist/genocidist." "They want to put ya'll back in chains." "If you don't vote for me, the world will burn and your children will die."

This is America. Free Speech includes hyperbole, misinformation and yeah, big horrible dangerous lies.

We will always be told pretty lies, fun lies, bragging lies, and dangerous lies.

Faced with dangerous lies, it is up to us to look at the data, look at the records, watch the actions - past and present - and then determine for ourselves what is true.

Long ago a perspicacious singer/songwriter told us how to find the truth.

"Like an echo down a canyon , Never coming back as clear , Lately I just judge the distance , Not the words I hear." Bob Seeger -"Till It Shines"

(No Need To Check. Just Trust Me)

[tombeane-blog]

Showering With Common Sense

"But then one day my Uncle Sam , He said (knock,knock,knock) Here I am, Uncle Sam needs you, boy" Bill Parsons - "The All American Boy"

We've waited a week.  So far, all the information about what really happened is anonymous or ad-hoc.  Nothing official.

We don't seem to be getting any real detail from any government agency and what dribs and drabs we do get we don't believe.

It may be months or years before we find out the complete truth.  

But we don't have time for that.  

So, while in the shower, I put to work a few of my precious brain cells towards solving the problem.  After 4 or 5 minutes of red neck thinking and using only common sense and a little of my high school algebra, I worked out the solution.

"You don't have to raise your hand Vern, just spit it out?" "It's more complicated than you think Tom." "Let's wait and let the government investigate."

"Vern, right off let's admit that the current Secret Service sucks and the current government is not gonna fix it.  We need a solution now before the next Anonymous Lunatic Piece Of Dog Shit Gets Lucky."

'This ain't your grandfather's Secret Service Vern so sit back down and listen up."

The Secret Service used to be one of the finest and most respected organizations in the world. 

(Link to https://tombeane-blog.tumblr.com/ and stroll back to the blog entry, That Time I Was Surrounded By The Secret Service.")

Since July 5th 1865 the Secret Service was part of the U.S. Treasury Department.  On March 1, 2003 it was transferred to Homeland Security.  Big mistake.  Homeland Security does not secure the homeland (I refer you to the U.S Southern border).

So here's my solution to fixing the Secret Service: 

First it should be transferred and report directly to the Secretary of Defense as a separate branch of the military. The Secretary of Defense has operational control over all branches of the U.S. Military.

Next, only active duty military personnel from Special Operations such as Navy Seals, Army Rangers and Marine Recon are eligible to become Secret Service agents with responsibility for the protection of the President of the U.S.

There should be no outside recruitment for the Secret Service.  It should be a natural career path for Spec Ops personnel who are reaching the end of their careers as Tier 1 Operators.  Maybe they are in their late thirties and no longer able to kick in doors and kill people.  Maybe they just want to take the next step to serve the country.  If so, instead of just taking a promotion up the ladder in Spec Ops, they can instead laterally transfer into the Secret Service.

Who is more highly trained, more willing to sacrifice their lives for a cause, or proven to be more patriotic than these point-of-the-spear warriors?

Ok, so this excludes 99.993% of women.  Sorry.  Is woke inclusion more important than protecting the President of the United States of America?

We take these already highly, highly trained Spec Ops warriors and train them to be highly, highly trained Secret Service warriors.

Finally, let's get a little more exclusionistic.  Any person assigned to the close protection detail of the President must be 6' 2" or taller.

World famous for my open mind I welcome cogent and common sense responses to my plan.

However, keep in mind that any and all disagreement would be contrariol of common sense and, by definition, not cogenital.

Make Common Sense Again